“She is trusting you, above all others, with this important task. You should feel honored.”
“Iamhonored.”
“Then allow me to do my job,” said Erlyn pointedly, crossing his arms.
“I have been.”
Guilt ate at him.
Erlyn had stood by his side since the beginning, trained to be Idris’ personal assistant since he could walk. Idris knew now what rising through the ranks entailed—it was a cutthroat process, especially during these times of war. A royal’s assistant already held a dangerous position during times of peace, and the currently hostile galactic relations placed a bigger target on Erlyn’s head. The purple-scaled male had stood by his side for thirty-five years. They were practically brothers, of the same age of forty-five. It was common for assistants to grow with their liege, and the two of them had grown close. However, every time Idris flew his starstorm out to fight, Erlyn was left behind in the starbase—or, in a long-distance battle, the carrier—to wait, hoping to catch glimpses of the battle from afar.
If an assistant’s liege dismisses them—or worse, died—they were placed in a pool to be assigned to another. If anything were to happen to Idris, Erlyn would be assigned to someone of lower standing, as there was no other person with similar status who currently needed an assistant. It wasn’t just Idris’s life that was affected by his actions; it was Erlyn’s as well—and the rest of his people.
Idris grabbed Erlyn’s shoulder and met his guarded, pale green gaze. “I know that my most recent performance in battle wasn’t ideal—”
“‘Ideal’ doesn’t cover it,” Erlyn snorted. “You allowed your cockiness to cloud your judgment and got yourself stranded. Who knows if the humans were going to hold off? You just cared about trying to be the best and look what that got you.”
“I was surprised to see a female pilot. All the others that I’ve attempted to communicate with have been male.” He sighed and let his hand fall. “She faced me without fear and something about her—”
“Don’t tell me you acted like some lovesick male, and that is what almost got you killed.”
“No! Of course not!” He hissed.
“I know you love to try and make my hair fall out with worry.”
Idris glanced at Erlyn’s long silver hair that flowed back between his large, curved, tan-colored horns and fell past his shoulders. Nothing seemed amiss.
“Don’t worry about your hair falling out. We have many years to come, working together,” Idris assured, sending him a quick smile. “We will grow old together and watch our offspring make fools of themselves. Let them turn your hair white and make it fall out with stress.”
Erlyn shot him a tired smile. “We have to end this war first.”
“And you are going to help me.”
