1
Erzo’s fingers hesitated over the communicator, the device pulsing with an incoming call. Breal’s face filled the screen, her sharp eyes piercing through the digital haze. Her expression was dark, and her eyes had circles under them. Her ordinarily bright skin looked sallow, but it could be the lighting.
“Erzo, we need to talk,” Breal’s voice was urgent, yet it carried an undercurrent of something deeper, reminiscent of their intertwined past.
The sight of her triggered a cascade of vivid memories. Erzo hadn’t talked to her in years. That happened, though, when one rejected their clan. He wasn’t a beloved figure, abandoning the family and all. Breal was the only one who could reach him if necessary because she was the only person he trusted on Charrovik. Still, those communications were few.
Neither of them wanted to attract attention to the fact that they still did know how to reach one another. His clan tried to get him back for several years, but Erzo resisted, sticking it out in the Miner’s Guild. The Charro’s way of life wasn’t for him. It didn’t have to be. He was the youngest. He didn’t need to remain, but it was as though he’d offended all the clan for leaving Charrovik.
His leaving, however, didn’t just hurt his family.
Breal hated it, too.
He couldn’t resist a jibe, their old rapport flickering to life as if time meant nothing. “Is this another one of our blaster battles, Breal? Dodging shots and witty comebacks?”
Her chuckle was brief, tinged with nostalgia. “I wish. Our shots are political, and there’s no escaping now.”
Erzo’s mind flashed back to those days aboard the ship. He could almost feel the heft of the blaster in his hand, the electric thrill of the chase. Breal was always a step ahead, her laughter echoing as she ducked behind bulkheads. Their playful banter was a dance. But it was more than a game—it was a bond forged in the fires of youth and competition.
Still, he knew that something wasn’t right. “You don’t contact me. Why now?”
Breal wouldn’t be calling him like this if something significant wasn’t happening.
“Has your family reached out to you yet?”
He shook his head. “Thanks for the notice that they’re going to be, though.”
“Sooner rather than later.”
“Why, what’s happened?”
Breal looked down and back up at him. “There’s been an accident. My mother died.”
“I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard. I honor her,” Erzo said, bowing his head and crossing his arms to honor her mother’s passing.
Grief washed over him. Her mother had been a kind Charro and very loving of Breal. Erzo’s mother died when he was young, and Breal’s mother always treated him with such kindness. Something he hadn’t gotten often in his father’s care.
Breal mimicked the maneuver back to him. “Thank you for the honor.” Her eyes glistened for a moment, but she blinked it away.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Later for grief. Now is more important.”
“You’re not reaching out because of that?”
“Not entirely because of that.” Her voice choked as she spoke.
He stared at the girl who he grew up with. The sister who hadn’t been born to his clan. “Charro, what is happening,” Erzo asked.
She wiped her eyes. “They’re coming for you, Erzo. Soon.”
He stared at her, and it came to him. Why else would his family come for him? After all this time?
“They want us mated.”
Breal nodded. “My clan needs a new leader. My father can’t do the job, and the clansmen don’t think I can lead my people.”
If there was anyone able to lead Breal’s clan in her father’s stead, it was her.
