Movement at the vessel’s hatch caught her attention. A familiar figure appeared in the opening, and her heart lifted.
“Tomas!”
The elderly man hurried down the ramp with surprising speed for his age, his weathered face creased with relief and joy. He was dressed immaculately as always—dark suit, white shirt, every silver hair in place—but there was nothing formal about the way he grasped her hands when he reached her.
“Miss Ember. Thank the stars.” His voice trembled slightly. “When we received the distress signal from your ship, and then nothing for so long… we feared the worst.”
“I’m all right, Tomas.” She squeezed his hands, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Worried.” He let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. “I’ve aged ten years in the past month. But you’re here now. You’re safe.” His gaze flickered to Rykan, curious but not hostile. “And you have a story to tell, I suspect.”
“A long one.” She smiled at him, warmth spreading through her chest. Tomas had been part of her life for as long as she couldremember—more a father figure than a servant, especially after her own father’s death. Seeing him again made the strangeness of her return feel almost bearable.
“Miss Duvain.”
The new voice was crisp and efficient, carrying an undertone of authority that she recognized instantly. She turned to see Helena, one of her aunt’s personal assistants, descending the ramp, her dark hair pulled back in a severe knot, her tablet already in hand.
“We need to get you back to Port Cantor immediately,” Helena continued, not bothering with pleasantries. “Your aunt has been managing company affairs in your absence, but there are numerous decisions that require your personal attention. I’ve prepared a briefing on the current state of?—”
“Helena.” She cut her off gently but firmly. “I appreciate your dedication, but I’ve just spent weeks surviving in the wilderness. The briefing can wait until I’ve had a chance to rest and change.”
Helena’s expression tightened with barely concealed frustration. “Miss Duvain, with all due respect, the company’s situation is urgent. Your aunt specifically instructed me to?—”
“I’m sure she did.” She calmly held the other woman’s gaze, refusing to back down. “But I will address company matters when I’m ready, not before. Is that clear?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Helena’s face. The old Ember would have allowed herself to be managed and directed. The old Ember had been trained from childhood to defer to those who seemed more capable. But the old Ember had died in a burning ship and been reborn in mountain snow.
“Of course,” Helena said finally, her tone carefully neutral. “As you wish.”
“Good.” She turned back towards the vessel, reaching for Rykan’s hand without thinking. His fingers closed around hers, warm and solid. “Shall we?”
The interior of the transport was exactly what she remembered—polished surfaces, soft lighting, the faint hum of advanced technology. It felt foreign after weeks of rough-hewn wood and firelight, almost aggressively civilized.
Helena moved to intercept them as they walked down the main corridor. “Miss Duvain, I’ve prepared a seat for you in the main cabin. We can begin the briefing during transit?—”
“We’ll be in the private cabin at the rear.” She didn’t slow her pace. “Please see that we’re not disturbed.”
“The private cabin?” Helena’s voice rose slightly. “Miss Duvain, that space is reserved for?—”
“For the Duvain heir.” She glanced back over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Which is me. Thank you, Helena.”
She didn’t wait for a response, simply continued down the corridor with Rykan at her side. Behind them, she heard Helena’s sharp intake of breath, followed by Tomas’s quiet murmur—something that sounded like reassurance, or perhaps a gentle rebuke.
The private cabin was small but well-appointed—a cushioned bench that could fold out into a bed, a compact refresher unit, and storage compartments built into the walls. She closed the door behind them and let out a long sigh.
“You frightened that guard.” She turned to face him, a smile tugging at her lips. “I thought he might actually faint when your eyes changed.”
His expression remained serious. “Good. He should be frightened.”
“Rykan—”
“He was going to put his hands on you.” The words came out rough, edged with something darker. “I would never allow that. No one touches you without your permission. No one.”
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine—not of fear, but of something warmer. Something that made her mark pulse with recognition.
She crossed to the storage compartments, rapidly surveying the available clothing. The fabrics were fine and elegant, a far cry from the practical mountain garb she’d grown accustomed to. She briefly considered a soft blue gown, the kind of attire she’d previously worn. But instead she chose cream-colored blouse with delicate embroidery, dark trousers tailored to fit perfectly, and soft leather boots that had never seen mud. Heiress clothes, but with a harder edge.
She began to change, unselfconscious about undressing in front of him—they’d shared far more intimate moments than this. But as she fastened the blouse and smoothed the fabric over her hips, she caught his expression in the polished surface of the wall panel.
