Chapter 28
“This seat taken?”
Torian squeaked, startled, and it sent Amelia into a fit of laughter. It had only been a day—Torian wasn’t expecting Amelia to be up yet. She leapt to her feet, hovering awkwardly, suddenly forgetting what she normally did with her hands.
“Ames! Are you feeling okay? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, your sister got fed up with me.” Amelia sank onto the bench where Torian had previously been sitting.
It was a curved shape, expertly carved from thick pine, set in a massive clearing at the base of the kerrac tree.
This deep in the forest, everything was quiet except for the chirping of insects and the occasional scuttle of those fluffy alien squirrels.
Torian took a tentative seat beside Amelia, gauging how she looked. “That sounds fake.” Celise had an abrasive bedside manner, but she’d threaten a patient into bed before she’d kick them out of one.
Then again, Celise had never particularly liked Amelia. Maybe she shouldn’t put it past her sister.
Amelia’s skin had returned to its normal copper color, her lips no longer blue. She may be moving slower, but was clearly on a path to recovery. She waved a hand. “Fine, I might have left without her permission. I’m not meant to be a patient, and I’m definitely not patient enough to stay in bed.”
“You should still be resting.” Torian raised a disapproving eyebrow.
Amelia scoffed. “I was a little cold. I’m fine now.”
“A little cold?”
“Yes.” She held up her arms for proof, still wearing that faux-leather jacket—which was, admittedly, a good argument. In the consistent, comfortable temperature of Vaesa, Amelia might even be too warm.
Torian snorted. “You endured a traumatic experience.”
Amelia waved her off. “Every experience with you is traumatic.” Her tone was teasing, though.
“Gee, thanks,” Torian drawled. “A wonder you even stick around.”
“It really is.” Amelia winked, then heaved a satisfied sigh and tilted her head upward. Her short, spiky hair was mussed, likely from lying on a bed swathed in pillows. It made her look ever so slightly disheveled, which was a rarity for Amelia.
Torian couldn’t look away.
Amelia didn’t notice. “This is a big tree.”
“Yeah, it is.” Focus, Torian. Fumbling to avert her gaze, she pointed at one of the nearby pine trees. “See the moss? That’s—”
“Let me guess. Moss?”
“All right, smarty-pants.” Torian had forgotten, briefly, that they’d already met before she could facilitate introductions. “Sorry it snuck onto your starship.”
Amelia’s lips quirked. “Well, I can’t exactly complain about that after yesterday. But I will say, it’s … pretty impressive. Not sure how you found the one starship with an ultra-advanced life support, but … I like it.”
Torian rested her hand beside Amelia, bracing herself on the bench. Her fingers were close enough to lightly brush Amelia’s thigh, if she wanted. “I don’t know. I feel really, really lucky.”
“Me, too.” Amelia hesitated. “And a little stupid insulting your starship the first time I saw it.”
If Moss was listening, that would have been the perfect time to chime in. But Peat was busying itself with the rest of the smugglers, and Dutch and Moss had spent hours conversing with the keels, drawing up a new alliance. Torian had watched some of it, and then retreated to the forest.
After so much travel, it was nice to just … sit in stillness for a bit.
She couldn’t believe how different her life was now.
Torian admired the kerrac tree’s canopy. Her voice was soft. “I’m really glad we got to talk on Colony 4, Ames. And I’m sorry for pushing you toward Rhymarra all that time.”
Overhead, Kerracia’s leaves glimmered like sparkling stars. Or like the lights at the tips of the keels’ tails. Or like the strands that flowed down Dutch’s hair when he got excited. There was undoubtedly a scientific explanation for the similarities, but Torian’s weary mind labeled it simply:
Magic.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to go back.” Amelia broke the silence, still avoiding her gaze.
“You’re the bravest person I know.”
Amelia laughed roughly. “No, Torian. I take the easy path. You’re the one who’s actually brave.”
Oh.
Torian faced her fully, and for a moment it felt like even the trees held their breaths. Amelia’s eyes flicked to Torian’s lips, and Torian’s heart stuttered. Her next words were quiet: “If you take the easy path, and I take the hard one, I guess I should be glad they realigned so fast.”
It seemed to take Amelia a moment to remember that a proper conversation was a statement and response. Her mouth opened, clearly searching for words. Her body leaned closer to Torian’s, their foreheads an inch apart.
“Sometimes, I feel like my path is your path,” Amelia finally said.
Torian inhaled slightly, eyes widening.
Amelia didn’t move forward, but she also didn’t pull back.
It was the closest they’d been since the kiss six months ago.
And then, because the galaxy was a cruel, unforgiving beast, Celise stomped into the clearing.
It wasn’t a subtle entrance, either. Her sister cursed loudly as she fought past the unruly underbrush, coughing from the exertion. “Perrosk!” Celise bellowed hoarsely. “What in the fuck are you doing out here? I didn’t say you could get out of bed, much less tromp around in the wilderness—”
They recoiled faster than a kid playing with live wires. Amelia leapt to her feet, bracing on the bench as she composed herself. It was unfair how fast she recovered, considering Torian’s heart still pounded and her brain seemed foggy.
Amelia offered a dry smile. “Doctor, what a surprise. I heard you say that exercise is the path to a healthy—”
“Don’t.” Celise narrowed her eyes, first at Amelia, then at Torian. She waggled her finger. “And you, Torian. You brought me here to run a clinic. You should know better than to steal my patients.”
Torian spluttered. “Wait. I was just sitting here—”
“Save it. I don’t know what relationship you two have, and frankly, I don’t care. But you need rest, Perrosk. Get your ass back to my clinic.”
When Celise had said she was going to earn her medical license, their mother laughed and laughed. At the time, it felt rude, and Celise was righteously indignant. Now, Torian was starting to see her mother’s humor.
Amelia didn’t move. “I told you before, I’m fine.”
“There is no way that’s medically true.” Celise narrowed her eyes.
Torian tried to insert herself, raising her hands to calm everyone. “I’ll make sure she gets back, Lise—”
“You don’t want my ire either, Torian. Moss shared the report of your heart rate today, and its analysis from yesterday. You’re equally exhausted.” Celise crossed her arms, a malicious glint in her eyes. “You wanted me on this space station? Congratulations. You got me. All of me.”
“I have regrets,” Torian grumbled.
“Your sister is scary,” Amelia agreed.
“Tough shit. Get back to the clinic. Both of you.”
But with little else to do, they trudged after Celise.
Inside the clinic, Torian lay on one bed and Amelia lay on the other, and they both closed their eyes.
Celise read a book in the corner long enough that Torian almost did fall asleep, and then finally seemed satisfied that her patients weren’t escaping again.
She retired upstairs with threats and promises, which left Amelia laughing and Torian vaguely scared.
After she was gone, Torian rolled on her side and faced Amelia, who mirrored her position. Their cots were close enough. In the quiet hours of Vaesa’s morning, surrounded by moss and aliens and hope, Torian’s hand brushed Amelia’s—and the two shared a private smile.