“Ember.”
She only gave him her first name, although even that was a risk. The Duvain family wasn’t exactly obscure. Her father had built one of the largest trading companies on Cresca, and her face had appeared in enough society coverage to be recognizable in certain circles.
But there was nothing. No spark of awareness, no sudden change in his demeanor.
He doesn’t know who I am,she realized with a rush of relief.
“I’m Rykan,” he said after a long pause.
“Rykan.” She tested the name on her tongue, enjoying the way it felt in her mouth. “Thank you for saving me, Rykan.”
“You already said that.”
“It bears repeating.”
He grunted in what could have been acknowledgment or dismissal. It was hard to tell with that stoic face, and she returned to the stew.
“This is good,” she said between bites. Tender meat, root vegetables, and herbs she didn’t recognize.
“Part of a brace of cottma I caught three days ago. I smoked one and used the other in the stew.”
“Cottma?”
“Humans call them rabbits.”
Her lips quirked at the disdain in his voice. The human colonists had a habit of associating Earth terms with anything on Cresca that vaguely resembled something on their home planet.
“You said the southern pass would be blocked for days?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Maybe longer. The storm came early, but if there’s another…” He shrugged. “No way down the mountain until the pass clears.”
“And there’s no other way to contact the outside world? No emergency beacons, no?—”
“Nothing.” His jaw tightened. “I came up here to be alone. Communications weren’t a priority.”
There was a weight behind those words, a story she wanted to unravel but knew better than to ask about. Not yet anyway. But the implications were clear—he’d chosen this isolation deliberately. He’d built a life in these mountains specifically to avoid contact with others.
And now he was stuck with her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know I’m intruding on your privacy.”
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp, almost angry. “Don’t apologize for surviving.”
She closed her mouth, startled by the vehemence in his voice. He seemed to realize he’d spoken too harshly. He looked away, towards the fire, and some of the tension drained from his shoulders. “You didn’t ask to crash in my territory. You didn’tchoose to nearly freeze to death. You survived. That’s nothing to apologize for.”
She studied his profile in the firelight—the strong line of his jaw, the slight downturn of his mouth, the shadows that gathered beneath his eyes. There were ghosts there, she realized. Wounds that hadn’t fully healed. Whatever had driven him to this solitary existence, it was more than simple preference for quiet.
What happened to you?she wondered.Who hurt you enough to make you hide from the world?
But she didn’t ask.
“All right,” she said instead. “I won’t apologize.”
He glanced back at her, and something that might have been approval flickered in those golden eyes.
“Good. Now finish eating and rest. Your body’s been through trauma. It needs time to recover.”
“And then?”
