Chapter 18
TROKA
The datascreen glows with soft blue light, the linework of the jungle gym flickering with each adjustment I make.
“You sketching again?” Alaina’s voice crackles through the comm at the door before I even knock.
She’s psychic, I swear.
“Yeah,” I admit. “Brought you... somethin’.”
“Is it another busted fridge motor? Because I swear, Troka, I’ll kick your scaled ass if you keep using my kitchen as a test lab.”
“It’s not busted,” I grumble. “Just loud.”
She buzzes me in anyway.
Inside smells like cinnamon and child.
Caelix is on the floor, buried in a pile of plushies that look like they’ve seen battle. He lights up when he sees me.
“Tokra!”
I grin, correcting him for the millionth time. “Troka.”
“Tokra!”
“Close enough.”
He hands me a ragged stuffed war beast with only one horn. I pretend to bite it and growl, making him laugh so hard he falls over.
Alaina watches from the couch, arms crossed, but there’s a smile playing on her lips.
She tries to hide it.
Fails.
“What’s in the folder?” she asks, nodding to the flexscreen I’ve got tucked under my arm.
I hesitate.
Because showing her means admitting I’ve been thinking about this.
A lot.
“Plans,” I say.
“For what?”
“A backyard play area. Fully enclosed. Anti-grav field. Adjustable equipment for mixed-species use. Safety foam—because you humans are squishy.”
She raises a brow. “You designing a playground?”
“Not just any playground. The playground.”
She stares at me.
“You’re serious.”
“Dead.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserves it.”
There’s a pause.
A long one.
The kid babbles in the background, humming some made-up song about a hoverpup and a sky biscuit.
Alaina’s voice drops.
“You keep doing stuff like this, Troka.”
“Like what?”
“Being... good.”
I blink. “That a problem?”
“It makes it harder to be mad at you.”
I set the flexscreen down on the table, gentle, like it’s breakable.
“I’m not leavin’, Alaina. Not again.”
Her breath hitches.
I hear it. Feel it.
“Even if you tell me to. Even if you throw that busted motor at my head. I’m stayin’.”
She laughs—tight, nervous.
“Why?”
“You ask a lot of whys.”
“You dodge a lot of answers.”
I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. The scales on my cheek rasp against my palm.
“Because I care. Because... I want to.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
“No,” she says softly. “It’s not. You’ve got a thousand chances to walk away and you haven’t. That means something.”
“Then say it.”
She flinches.
Damn it.
Too hard, too fast.
I ease back.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I say, voice low. “Not about what happened. But I need you to know... I’m here. That’s it. No strings.”
She chews on her bottom lip like it’s giving her answers.
“You really think it’s that simple?”
“No. I think it’s messy as hell. But I’ve seen messier. I’ve fought in cities reduced to ash and bone. I can handle one stubborn human woman and our Vakutan kid.”
That made her smile, a smile worth a hundred victories.