Chapter 2 #2
"I'll arrange for a phantom-class ship," Sahikas interjected. "It's small but fast, capable of making the journey to Calpa in half the time of a standard transport. There would be room for only three—you, Admiral Blackwood, and the pilot."
"That's acceptable," Serna said, not looking at me. "Who will be piloting?"
"Kalipuk," Sahikas replied. "One of your best."
"Good." Serna turned her attention back to Ako. "We'll be there in a few days. Hold the council together until then."
"I will." Ako's expression softened slightly. "And Serna? I'm sorry about Chavon. He was a good male." His use of her given name spoke to their friendship.
"He was," Serna agreed quietly. "Thank you, Ako."
The comm ended, and silence fell over the room. Sahikas excused himself to finalize departure arrangements, leaving me alone with Serna.
She stood by the window, her back to me, and I could see the tension in her shoulders. The weight settling back onto them now that the call was over.
"Serna—"
"I'm fine," she said, cutting me off.
I waited, but she didn't elaborate. After a moment, she turned slightly, her voice dropping. "I know what you're going to say, Cullen. That I need to rest. That I'm pushing too hard. But I can't. Not yet."
I moved closer, careful not to crowd her. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say that Ako's right. You need to get back to Calpa. But I also think you need to eat something before we leave tomorrow, and maybe sleep for more than two hours."
She turned to look at me then, and I saw the exhaustion she'd been hiding. The grief. The vulnerability she'd never admit to feeling.
"I don't know how to do this," she said quietly. "How to be the Prime and also be... How to grieve and lead at the same time."
"You don't have to choose," I said. "You can do both. You are both."
"Am I?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Sometimes I think I've been the Prime for so long, I've forgotten how to be anything else."
I should have stepped back then. I didn't.
Instead, I said, "Let me order you some food. And then you're going to sleep, even if I have to stand guard outside your door to make sure you do."
She smiled then, just a little. "Is that an order, Cullen?"
"It's a strongly worded suggestion from a friend who cares about you."
The words hung between us, heavier than I'd intended. Serna's eyes widened slightly, and I saw something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe. Or hope.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For caring. For seeing me."
"Always," I said, and meant it.
She held my gaze for a long moment, and something inside me shifted with the force of tectonic plates sliding against each other.
I'd worked with Serna for months now. Months of watching her navigate impossible political situations with grace.
Months of seeing her carry the weight of entire worlds on her shoulders without complaint.
Months of professional respect that I'd carefully maintained, keeping my distance, keeping things appropriate.
But then she reached up and pulled the ornamental pins from her hair.
It was such a simple gesture—tired, unguarded. The elaborate braids she wore came undone, and dark waves tumbled past her shoulders, longer than I'd realized. She ran her fingers through it with a soft sigh of relief, and the transformation was complete. Not the Prime. Just Serna.
Just a woman who was exhausted and vulnerable and trusting me to see her this way.
The intimacy of that moment—of being allowed to witness this private ritual, this shedding of armor—hit me like a nuke.
I'd seen her in formal robes addressing the Council.
I'd seen her in tactical gear making battlefield decisions.
But this? This undoing, this quiet revelation of the person beneath all those roles?
It destroyed me.
The discipline I'd maintained for months, the professional boundaries I'd built brick by brick—they crumbled in an instant.
I could barely breathe. My hands wanted to move toward her.
Every nerve in my body screamed at me to touch her, to kiss her, to stop pretending I could be near her without wanting this.
The force of it terrified me.
So I stepped back, breaking the moment with an effort that cost me more than I wanted to admit, and went to order her food. And tried not to think about how the next few days on the ship were going to test every ounce of self-control I had left.
Later, alone in my quarters, I sat on the narrow bunk and tried to make sense of what was happening to me.
Catherine.