Chapter 15
Cleo
Iwoke up in the guest quarters. The bed was too narrow. The room was too quiet. My body ached in places that had nothing to do with physical injury and everything to do with the shitshow going on in my head.
I rolled over and stared at the wall, forcing myself not to cry again. I’d done enough of that last night.
“You’re awake.” Mierva’s voice was gentle from her bed across the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I said honestly. “But functional.”
“That’s something, at least.”
Baleck stirred on his bed near the window. “What time is it?”
“Early.” I sat up, running my hands through my tangled hair. “Sun’s barely up.”
We’d stayed up late the night before, after I’d stormed back to the guest quarters with a shattered heart. They’d asked questions. I’d given short answers. Eventually, exhaustion had claimed us all.
But now, in the gray light of morning, I could feel them both watching me with concern.
“So,” Baleck said carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Too bad.” Mierva swung her legs out of bed, her healed arm moving easily now. “You came back here clearly upset and we both know that a convoy came that contained our crew. We’re your friends and we’re also upset. So we’re going to talk about it.”
I wanted to argue, but the truth was, I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t Rezor. Someone who might actually understand.
“Yeah, our crew was here,” I said, the words coming out flat. “Yesterday. Right outside the valley. And Rezor met them without telling us. He sent them away without letting us see them.”
Mierva’s eyes closed, briefly. “I’m glad they’re alive. That, at least, is positive.”
“Yes. We don’t know how, but it seems the weather towers that were causing the storms have been disabled.” I pulled my knees up to my chest. “I’d like to ask Zara about it, since she probably played a role.”
“Did Rezor say why he didn’t tell you until after they left?” Baleck asked.
“There seemed to be a lot of reasons.” The bitterness in my voice surprised even me. “Because the council decided we’re too valuable to let go. Because of that damn prophecy about sky people bringing renewal, and they think if we leave, the storms will come back.”
“Ah, that prophecy,” Mierva repeated slowly. “They’ve been stuck here so long, their prophecies have taken on an outsized role in their decision making.”
“Three people crash-land and suddenly we’re their saviors or destroyers.” I laughed without humor. “Congratulations to us. We’re hostages to a fucking prophecy.”
Baleck stood and moved to the small table where someone had left food from the night before. He picked at a piece of bread, his expression thoughtful. “What did Rezor say when you confronted him?”
“That he was trying to protect me. That he needed to verify their identities before letting strangers into the valley. That he couldn’t just overturn thousands of sun-cycles of isolation on faith alone.
” I pressed my palms against my eyes. “And maybe he’s not entirely wrong.
But he still made that choice for us. He still decided we didn’t get to know our own crew was here. ”
“Did he say if they’d come back?” Mierva asked.
“Yes. Zara apparently threatened to return with an armada. Rezor seemed to think that was funny.” I dropped my hands. “He told me when they come back with proof of who they are, we can do what we’d like. Leave. Stay. The choice will be ours.”
“Do you believe him?” Baleck asked.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” I stood and paced to the window, looking out at the valley bathed in early morning light. “I thought… I thought we had something real. But how can it be real if he sees me as something to protect rather than someone to stand beside?”
Mierva was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was measured. “I understand why you’re hurt. Why you feel betrayed. But I also see where Rezor is coming from.”
I turned to stare at her. “Seriously? You’re defending him?”
“I’m not defending his actions. I’m saying I understand his reasoning.” She gestured at the window, at the lush valley beyond. “This place is extraordinary, Cleo. Do you know how rare it is? How many species exist here that are extinct everywhere else on this planet?”
“What does that have to do with—”
“Everything.” She stood and joined me at the window.
“I’ve been studying the valley’s history.
The texts Zelana has been sharing with me.
This isn’t just a settlement. It’s a living museum.
A preservation of an ecosystem that the weather likely destroyed everywhere else.
The D’tran here aren’t just survivors. They’re guardians of something irreplaceable. ”
“So what? That gives them the right to keep us here?”
“No. But it explains why they’re terrified of opening their borders.
” Mierva’s expression was gentle. “For generations, they’ve watched their world outside these mountains die.
They’ve seen other clans wiped out by storms, by starvation, by desperation.
The only reason they survived was because they kept everyone out. Because they trusted no one.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” I said, but some of the heat had left my voice.
“No,” Baleck agreed, moving to join us. “But it makes it understandable. Rezor isn’t just some tyrant keeping us here for fun. He’s a leader trying to protect everything his people have built. Everything they’ve managed to save.”
“While completely ignoring what we want,” I pointed out.
“Is he?” Mierva asked. “Think about it, Cleo. If he really wanted to keep us here forever, what would he have done differently yesterday?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He could have told Zara we were dead. He could have said he didn’t know where we were.
He could have sent them away with no hope of ever finding us.
” She touched my arm. “But he didn’t. He confirmed we’re here.
He confirmed we’re alive and well. And he basically invited them to come back with proof.
That’s not the action of someone who wants to keep us prisoner forever. ”
The words hit me like cold water. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Hadn’t considered that Rezor could have lied, could have made it impossible for my crew to ever find us.
But he hadn’t.
“He still should have told me,” I said, but there was no heat behind my words.
“Yes,” Mierva agreed. “He absolutely should have. That was wrong. But I think he was trying to balance impossible choices. His duty to his people, his feelings for you, his fear of losing you. He might have made the wrong call, but I don’t think it came from a place of wanting to control you.”
“Yes,” Baleck said. “And from where I’m standing, his feelings are obvious.” He gave me a pointed look. “The male is completely gone for you, Cleo. Anyone with eyes can see it. Those marks of his glow like a beacon every time you’re in the same room.”
“So?” I turned away from the window, from the view of the valley I’d started to think of as home. “Feelings don’t matter if they come with chains.”
“But do they?” Baleck pressed. “I’ve not yet felt the mate bond myself, but I know Destrans who have, and the D’tran are close relatives with similar traits.
It’s not a casual thing. It’s overwhelming.
All-consuming. It makes people do stupid things because suddenly their brain is screaming that this one person is the most important thing in the universe and they have to keep them safe at all costs. ”
“That’s not an excuse—”
“No, but it’s an explanation.” He moved closer, his expression serious. “And I’m saying that a male in the grip of a brand-new mate bond who managed not to attack a convoy full of strangers trying to take his mate away showed incredible restraint. Some males would have started a war.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that Rezor’s feelings didn’t excuse his actions. But looking at Baleck’s earnest expression, at Mierva’s gentle understanding, I felt my anger begin to crack.
“Do you love him?” Baleck asked quietly. “Do you feel the bond too?”
The question hung in the air between us. I could have denied it. Could have insisted it was just sex, just proximity, just the circumstances of being stranded here together.
But I’d never been good at lying to myself.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I love him. And I hate that I love him, because loving him feels like giving up everything else I am.”
“Why?” Mierva asked.
“Because…” I pressed my hands against my face, feeling tears threaten again.
“Because my whole childhood, my father controlled everything. Where I went, what I studied, who I talked to. He said it was for my own good. Said he was protecting me. But really, he was just keeping me small. Keeping me contained in his idea of who I should be.”
I dropped my hands, looking at my friends through blurred vision.
“When I finally got away, got to university, got out into the galaxy, I swore I’d never let anyone make me feel that way again.
That I’d never let anyone trap me in their world.
And then I met Rezor, and he makes me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.
But yesterday, when he kept the crew from me, when he made that choice without even asking me.
I felt like I was right back in my father’s house. Powerless. Trapped.”
Mierva moved closer and pulled me into a gentle hug. “That must have been terrifying.”
“It was.” I let myself lean into her embrace. “Because I realized I’d done exactly what I swore I’d never do. I’d fallen for someone who wanted to keep me in a box. Who saw protecting me as more important than letting me choose.”
“I wonder if that’s really what Rezor wants.” Mierva pulled back to look at me. “Or is he making mistakes because he’s terrified of losing you? There’s a difference between someone who wants to control you and someone who’s scared and making bad decisions.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know anymore.”
Baleck sat on the edge of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I’m thinking about staying for a while. Even after the crew comes back. This valley… There’s something special here. And it’s changing. Opening up. It’ll never be as isolated as it was. The storms ending changed everything.”
“You want to stay?” I asked, surprised.
“Maybe. For half a sun-cycle, at least. Learn more about the D’tran culture. Help facilitate communication between the valley and the outside world. This is the Destran home world, after all.” He smiled. “Someone needs to be a bridge. Might as well be me.”
“I need to see Derrin,” Mierva said quietly.
“My mate. I need to know he’s okay, that he knows I’m alive.
But after that…” She looked around the guest quarters.
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to return to finish documenting this culture.
To help them integrate with the larger world. That will not be easy for them.”
“We can’t do that if we’re prisoners,” I said.
“No,” Mierva agreed. “We can’t. But I don’t think we are prisoners, Cleo. Not really. I think we’re caught in the middle of a culture learning to open its borders for the first time in generations. And yes, Rezor made an error. A big one. But he’s also learning.”
“Learning at my expense,” I grumbled, but there was no denying it—they had strong points. Maybe I was the one who was failing to change.
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But consider this. You love the valley, don’t you?
You’ve said so yourself. You love the work you’re doing, the peace of it, the challenge of maintaining these ancient systems. You’ve told me more than once that it’s been good for you.
That you needed this break from the constant pressure of ship life. ”
That was true, too. The slower pace here had been healing in ways I hadn’t expected.
No constant crises. No emergency protocols.
Just steady, methodical work that let me actually think instead of just react.
And time to just…be. Time to linger in the grow facility with the plants.
Time to enjoy a slow meal and gaze at the valley. Time to…love and be loved.
“Zara and Maya are great friends,” Mierva continued.
“But Maya has a family of her own, and from what I hear, Zara and Captain Korvath are comfortable together.” She paused there with furrowed brows.
“That’s a match I didn’t see coming. Anyway, you love life on the Sola, the travel, the exploration.
You’re curious about the galaxy and you don’t want to give that up. ”
“Correct,” I said. “I don’t.”
“Then maybe your choice isn’t as black and white as you think it is.” She touched my hand. “Maybe there’s a way to have both. To split your time, to travel but always come back here. To be with Rezor without giving up who you are.”
“You think he’d accept that?” I asked. “A mate who leaves half the year?”
“I think he’d accept anything that meant you chose him,” Baleck said.
“And as his people learn about the greater galaxy, they will start exploring, too. He may surprise you and come with you. More importantly, I think you need to figure out what you actually want. Not what you’re running from.
Not what you’re afraid of. What do you actually want your life to look like? ”
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it. Because I didn’t know. I’d been so focused on not feeling trapped that I hadn’t thought about what I was trying to build instead.
“I don’t have an answer,” I admitted.
“Then maybe that’s what you need to figure out,” Mierva said gently. “What do you want, Cleo? Not what you don’t want.”