“It was killing you,” he says simply.
I’m already dead. The words hover on my tongue, but remain unsaid. Because now, here, for the first time, those words aren’t true. I draw a long breath, watching the way it steams the air when I exhale.
Tarver eases closer, reaching for my hand. I’m still weak from so long eating next to nothing and sleeping so little. But my muscles respond to my commands. My hand, as I twine my fingers through his, doesn’t tremble.
For the first time since I was brought back, something inside me flickers, warm and vital. Hope. Together we stagger to our feet and move away from the sinkhole that used to be the station.
Tarver starts to let go of my hand, but I tighten my fingers through his, and he watches me for a long moment. I don’t pull away. He lifts our joined hands and kisses my fingers, his eyes closing as his lips linger against my skin.
I can’t help but wonder which is worse: losing the girl you love suddenly or being unable to touch her while she wastes away.
“How do you feel?” he asks, watching me intently.
“Incredible. Alive. Tarver, how did you know?”
“I didn’t.” He’s still watching our joined hands. “But I just—I sensed they didn’t want us hurt. They just wanted to be free. I guessed.”
A little chill ripples through me, and at my shiver, Tarver hauls off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. “Pretty big guess,” I point out.
“I had to believe it.”
“You picked a hell of a time to start believing in hunches and feelings.” I pull the jacket more tightly around myself and flash him a smile.
His arm around me tightens, and for a little while we just listen to the breeze stirring the leaves overhead.
“What do we do now?” I let my head lean back, looking up at the sky.
“Hell if I know,” he replies cheerfully. “Start building a house, I guess.”
I laugh again, startling myself with how easy it is. I didn’t think I remembered how. “Can it have a garden?”
“A dozen gardens.”
“And a bathtub?”
“Big enough for both of us.”
“Can I help?”
“I’m certainly not doing it all on my own.”
I shift my weight and lean against him.
“We should get some rest first,” he says, turning his head to touch his lips to my temple. “We can start on the house tomorrow. Shall we go back to the cave? Some idiot destroyed your bedroom.”
“Some idiot,” I echo, with a smile. “I don’t want to sleep in that cave again. Can we just sleep out here, under the sky, the way we used to? Before all this?”
“Anything you like.” He kisses my cheek again, still gentle, still hesitant, and disentangles his arm from mine so he can stand. “I’ll get the blankets from the cave. Tomorrow we’ll start planning our life as castaways.”
“We’ve already been living a life as castaways,” I point out. “I think we’ll be fine.”
He’s merely a shadow through the starlit trees as he makes his way back toward the cave. It’s not until he’s out of sight that I let my eyes close, tipping my head against the tree at my back, imagining I can feel the gentle glow of the stars on my cheeks.
All is silent and still. The air is crisp, and as I draw in a deep breath it sears the inside of my nose, tingling and strong.
“Rest,” I murmur.
Though whether I’m talking to myself, or to our absent friends, I don’t think I’ll ever know.
“Is that what this is about?”
“This is about the truth of what happened on that planet.”
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“None of what you’ve told us has explained the anomalies in Miss LaRoux’s medical tests.”
“Sorry, I don’t do well with big words. What do you mean?”
“Major, you know to what I am referring.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t. Sir.”
FORTY
TARVER
I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO SLEEP YET, but I don’t mind. I yawn, holding Lilac a little tighter. She murmurs in her sleep—one of those stubborn little sounds that melt me—and nestles in closer.
I’ve been looking up at the stars, familiar constellations now, and naming them. I squint at what I’ve decided to call the Lyre, tracing the shape of a harp over again as I learn it. From the bright star at the base, to the next above it, and then…the next star moves. So does its neighbor. I blink again, and they slide into focus.
They’re landing lights.
“Lilac, quick, wake up.” I scramble to sit up, reaching automatically for the Gleidel, though I don’t know what use it could possibly be. I lift my other hand to shield my eyes as the huge ship eases down toward us, thrusters rising to a steady roar. She’ll be landing no more than a klick or two away.