Kallum
Iwoke to warmth.
Not the fever-heat of the wound. Something else. A weight against my side, a presence I recognized before I opened my eyes.
Anhara.
She was curled in a chair beside my bed, her head resting on the mattress near my hip. Her hand was wrapped around mine. Even in sleep, she held on.
I didn’t move. Didn’t want to wake her. Just watched the rise and fall of her breathing, the way her dark hair fell across her face, the exhaustion written in every line of her body.
She’d stayed. The whole time I’d been under, she’d stayed.
The medical bay was quiet. Monitors beeped softly.
My body felt strange. Weak but healing. The wound in my side was a dull ache instead of a screaming fire. The one in my thigh barely registered. Whatever they’d done, whatever they’d filtered out of my blood, it was working.
Anhara stirred. Her fingers tightened on mine, and her eyes opened slowly. Green. Sharp. Finding me immediately.
“You’re awake.” Her voice was rough with sleep.
“How long?”
“Three days.” She sat up, wincing. The chair couldn’t have been comfortable. “Tamsin said the toxin took time to filter. Your body had to catch up.”
Three days. I’d lost three days.
“Turnip?”
“Fine. Better than fine.” A smile flickered across her face. “Bronwen’s been spoiling him. She says he’s the most beautiful murder pig she’s ever seen.”
I blinked. “Murder pig.”
“Her words. She’s... interesting.”
“That’s one way to describe her.”
Anhara laughed. The sound loosened something in my chest. She was here. She was safe. We’d made it.
“The Regalia piece?” I asked.
“Rylos has it. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Something about combining all five.”
I tried to sit up. My body protested. Anhara’s hand pressed against my chest, holding me down.
“Not yet. Tamsin said you need another day at least.”
“I’ve had three days.”
“And you need one more.” Her eyes met mine. Steady. Stubborn. “You almost died, Kallum. Multiple times. You can wait one more day to save the galaxy.”
I could have argued. Could have pushed past her and gone to find Rylos, demanded answers, insisted on being part of whatever came next.
Instead, I lay back against the pillow and let her win.
“One day,” I said.
“One day.”
Her hand was still on my chest. I covered it with mine.
Rylos came that afternoon.
He stood in the doorway of the medical bay, arms crossed, violet sigils dark against his gray skin. His expression was unreadable. It usually was.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“I’ve heard.”
“Tamsin says you’ll live.”
“She’s usually right.”
Rylos nodded. His eyes moved to Anhara, who had refused to leave my side. “You’re Torek’s student.”
“Yes.”
“You kept him alive long enough to get here.”
Anhara’s hand tightened on mine. “He kept me alive first.”
Something shifted in Rylos’s face. Not warmth. But recognition. Respect.
“The Regalia piece is secure,” he said, turning back to me. “We’ll combine them when you’re able.”
“And then?”
“Then we figure out what comes next.” He paused at the door. “Rest. Both of you. You’ve earned it.”
He left without waiting for a response. That was Rylos. Say what needed saying, then go.
Anhara let out a breath. “He’s...”
“Intense.”
“I was going to say terrifying.”
“That too.” I pulled her hand to my lips. Kissed her knuckles. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Will I?”
“You got used to me.”
Her laugh was soft. “That’s different.”
“How?”
She looked at me, the way she had that first day in the farmhouse when she’d decided whether to shoot me or let me speak.
“You’re not terrifying,” she said. “You’re just lonely.”
The same words she’d used before. Before the siege. Before everything.
“Not anymore,” I said.
Bronwen visited next.
She came in like a storm, grin sharp enough to cut. Zarek followed behind her, massive and silent, watching his mate with the same bewildered affection I’d seen on his face ever since he brought her back.
“The silent one lives!” Bronwen threw herself into the chair Anhara had vacated. “I told Zarek you were too stubborn to die.” She turned back to her mate. “Pay up.”
Zarek grunted, reached into his pocket. Dropped a credit chip into her waiting hand.
“You bet on whether I’d survive?” I asked.
“I bet on you surviving. He bet on you being dramatic about it.” She pocketed the chip. “We were both right.”
Anhara stood near the viewport, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Bronwen’s attention swung to her immediately.
“You must be the farmer.” She bounced up from the chair. Crossed the room. Stood too close, the way she always did. “I’ve been taking care of your pig.”
“I heard. Thank you.”
“He’s magnificent. The way he gored that training dummy...” Bronwen sighed dreamily. “I think I’m in love.”
“He’s not usually that aggressive.”
“Oh, I bring it out in people.” Bronwen grinned. “Animals too. We understand each other, Turnip and I. We both appreciate the poetry of violence.”
Zarek put a hand on Bronwen’s shoulder. “We should let them rest.”
“Fine, fine.” Bronwen waved a hand. “But I’m keeping the pig. You can visit him whenever you want, but he’s mine now.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Anhara said.
“It’s how it works when I say it works.” Bronwen paused at the door. “I like her. She’s got spine. Don’t fuck it up.”
They left. The silence they left behind was almost deafening.
“That was...” Anhara started.
“Bronwen.”
“Is she always like that?”
“Usually worse.” I held out my hand. “Come here.”
She came. Sat on the edge of the bed. Let me pull her closer to where I could smell her hair. Soap and recycled air and beneath it all, just her.
“I should be terrified,” she said quietly. “New place. New people. Everything I knew is gone.”
“But?”
“But I’m not.” She turned her head. Looked at me. “I don’t know what that means.”
I knew. I’d known since she’d kissed me in the farmhouse kitchen. Since she’d held my hand through hyperspace. Since she’d refused to leave my side for three days while I healed.
“Anhara.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
The words came out easier than I’d expected. I’d been carrying them for days. Since the vault. Since the fire. Since she’d told me I had her and I’d realized I wanted that to be permanent.
She went still. Her eyes searched my face.
“You don’t have to say it back,” I said. “I just needed you to know.”
“Kallum.”
“I’ve spent my life being invisible. Disappearing. Not letting anyone close enough to matter.” I touched her face. Traced the line of her cheekbone. “You saw me anyway. You saw through all of it. And I don’t want to be invisible anymore. Not to you.”
She kissed me.
Soft at first. Then deeper. Her hands in my hair, her body pressed against mine, her mouth saying everything words couldn’t. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet.
“I love you too,” she said. “I think I have since you turned your back on me that first day. Since you trusted me not to shoot you.”
“That was either trust or stupidity.”
“Maybe both.” She smiled. “Ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“You know what.” Her hand found mine. Squeezed. “I’ve seen the others. Tamsin. Bronwen. Sabine. I know what comes next.”
My heart was pounding. Loud enough that she had to hear it.
“The claiming,” I said.
“Yes.”
“It’s permanent. It will change you. My sigils on your skin. My DNA in your blood. You won’t be fully human anymore.”
“I know.”
“You’d be bound to me. Forever. There’s no undoing it.”
“I know.” She leaned closer. Her forehead touched mine. “Ask me, Kallum.”
I’d been trained to disappear. To leave no trace. To pass through the world like a ghost, touching nothing, being touched by nothing.
This was the opposite of everything I’d ever learned.
“Will you let me claim you?” My voice was rough. Barely recognizable. “Will you be mine?”
Her smile was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Yes.”