She glares at me, but the anger from behind her eyes is barely there anymore. Her resolve is dwindling. “You already know it,” is her vague reply.
I stare at her, my mind reeling. How could I already know her name?
Then it hits me out of nowhere, breaking free from a locked-away box in the back of my skull.
I see that brilliant green and her smile and fragments of our lives together. I hear her voice and her wordless songs and the rush of wind howling past my ears. I smell the ocean spray and the damp springtime earth after heavy rains.
When I look at her, I swear I can hear my own voice—older and rougher somehow—calling out her name.
“Jyn,” I say without meaning to.
She nods but doesn’t seem nearly as elated as I am. Instead, she begins to cry.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. If I’ve offended you in some way—”
She wipes at her eyes, her deep-seated anguish magically seeping through our connection. “Enough,” she snaps, trudging off toward the shade of the rocky overhang. “Leave me be.”
I have no plans to do such a thing. If I can convince Jyn to let me stay—just for a little while longer—perhaps she’ll open up, even a little. Looking around, I formulate a loose plan.
“Very well,” I say with my best feigned huff. “If you wish me gone, then say no more. Have a pleasant rest of your day.”
I set off due… east? The sun is blazing hot, and I have no water or other necessary supplies. There’s a good chance that I’ll be fried to a crisp within an hour or two, should I continue in this direction. I push past the last of the leafy green oasis and step out onto the hot sand, scorching the bottoms of my feet.
“Not that way!” Jyn shouts after me.
“This way, then?” I head in the opposite direction and try again. This time, she lets me get half a li out before stomping after me.
“No, you idiot!” she exclaims, grabbing me by the wrist.
“You know, you could just fly me out of here.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need time to rest—argh!Stop talking. I’ll draw you a bloody map. You can stay the night and leave in the morning.”
I beam, pleased with my efforts. It’s not as long as I would like, but it’s a start. Being in Jyn’s presence is a much-needed relief after all the death and carnage I’ve witnessed since crossing the border.
“As you command, my lady.”
14
This place, I quickly realize,is more than a desert sanctuary.
This is her home.
Traces of domesticity, albeit simple ones, are everywhere. Handwoven baskets made of dried leaves sit out by the water, a collection of ripe mangoes and red berries that I can’t name sitting inside. There’s a thick line made of spun grass tied between two large palm trees, clothes hung over the top to dry. It’s what is beneath the low rock overhang that impresses me most.
Arranged against the back is a nest of blankets and soft pillows. It’s a comfortable heap of colorful silks and soft cotton and woven yarn—big enough for a dragon to curl up in, bigger still for a woman to spread out comfortably in the lazy desert heat. Not too far off is a fire pit, the earth beneath baked into a hard clay from constant use. Stacked up in the far back corner of the overhang is a pile of wooden crates, their contents unknown to me.
Jyn hasn’t said a word to me in hours. I hate it more than anything.
Here I am, a normally enthusiastic—and dare I say, sparkling—conversationalist, with a Fated One who prefers grunting in responserather than speaking. The lunar gods who matched us must have an ironic sense of humor.
“How did you find me that first time?” I ask her. “When I was being attacked by the fei?”
Jyn doesn’t answer. Instead, she sits by the water, dipping her toes in as the sun slowly sinks in the distance. I’m seated a stone’s throw away on the other side of the fire. Given her obvious coldness, I fear trying to get any closer might not bode well for me and our tenuous acquaintance.
