“She’sscared.For herself. For the boy.”
My jaw tightens.
“She has a right to be,” I say.
“And yet… you’re here.”
“I didn’t come to drag them into anything.”
“Then whydidyou come, Garokk?” Reflector leans in, his voice dipping to a whisper. “Because you missed her? Because you missed the life you burned? Or because that boy looked up at you and you finally saw the truth you buried under wreckage?”
I stare at him for a long time.
Then I look past him.
Back to the window.
Back to the stars.
“To fix what I broke.”
Reflector stills.
He studies me. Really studies. For a flicker of a moment, the sarcasm slips. The mask cracks. What’s behind it isn’t trust. But maybe... maybe it’s comprehension.
“You think that’s still possible?”
I don’t answer.
Because I’m not sure.
But the silence speaks for me.
CHAPTER 23
ISOLDE
The Holonet won’t shut up.
It’s in the walls. The mirrors. The glow panels above the sink. Flickering headlines like graffiti scrawled across every polished surface in this too-bright hotel suite: CRIMSON RAIDER RETURNS. PIRATE KING PAROLED. LOVE, LIES, AND LASERS.
Somewhere, a gossip feed's looping a clip of me mid-blast panic, mouth parted, gown scorched, eyes wild.
The caption reads: ISOLDE’S SECOND CHANCE?
I mute it with a flick of my wrist.
The silence that follows feels just as loud.
I lean against the glass partition between me and the view of the city-ring below. Lights glitter across the Orbimall like someone spilled a box of baubles and let them stay where they fell. Pretty. Distracting. Empty.
There’s a bowl of untouched fruit on the tray beside me. Everything in this room smells too fresh. Citrus, linen, sterilizer. It clashes with the taste in my mouth—bitter, sour, old.
Pyramus is curled up on the sofa, his face pressed into the crook of his arm, pretending to read one of his holobooks. Thebacklight of the tablet flickers across his cheek like a pulse. He’s not really reading. I know that posture. I invented it.
“You want to talk?” I ask, voice soft.
He doesn’t look up. “No.”
