Chapter 18
Cleo
The artificial gravity kept my plate firmly on the table, but it couldn’t do anything about the weight pressing down on my chest.
I pushed a piece of synthesized protein around, watching it leave a trail in the sauce.
Not hungry. Hadn’t been hungry since we left the planet five days ago.
The ship’s galley hummed with the familiar sounds of a vessel in transit—the quiet whoosh of air recyclers, the subtle vibration of engines, the occasional beep from the navigation console in the adjacent room.
Home sounds. Sounds I’d lived with for years.
So why did they feel so wrong?
“You need to eat something.” Maya’s voice was gentle as she slid into the seat across from me. “You’re not eating well since we left.”
“Not hungry.” I set down my fork, giving up the pretense. “The artificial gravity is making everything feel weird.”
“It’s not the gravity.” Zara dropped into the chair beside Maya, her own plate piled high with food. At least someone had an appetite. “You’ve been on ships your whole adult life. You know what artificial gravity feels like.”
“Maybe I forgot.” The excuse sounded weak even to me.
“Or maybe you’re miserable,” Zara said bluntly. She took a bite of something that looked like it was supposed to be vegetables and made a face. “Why is ship food always so bland? I swear, after eating in that valley, this tastes like cardboard.”
“The valley had real food,” I said quietly. “Gardens. Actual growing things. You could taste the difference.”
Maya and Zara exchanged glances.
“So,” Maya said carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Don’t play dumb.” Zara pointed her fork at me. “You’ve been moping around this ship like someone stole your puppy. We got you out. You’re safe. You’re free. Yet clearly you are not experiencing the emotions you expected to feel upon leaving the planet we crashed on.”
“I’m fine.” The lie tasted like bullshit. Probably sounded like it, too.
“Cleo.” Maya’s voice held the patience of someone who’d known me for years. Who could see through every defense I tried to build. “We’ve spent the past two days hearing about everything that happened in that valley. The sabotage. The repairs. The prophecy. And Rezor.”
My chest tightened at his name. “What about him?”
“You’re in love with him,” Zara said matter-of-factly. “You are fooling exactly no one. You get this look on your face every time someone says his name. This mix of longing and pain that’s honestly excruciating to watch.”
“Then don’t—” I started, but Maya cut me off.
“You told us about the mate bond. About how his marks glow for you.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Cleo, you were lovers, and that’s a big deal for a Destran, so it is for a D’tran, also.”
“And then he kept us from seeing you,” Zara added. “And treated you like property instead of a partner.”
“Yes,” I said, grateful she understood. “Exactly.”
Zara rolled her eyes. “Did you not hear the sarcasm in my voice?” She frowned. “I thought I was getting better at those forms of humor.”
“You haven’t,” I said. “Also, what?”
She set down her fork. “From what you told us, and from empirical evidence based on our own observations, Rezor did not treat you like property, and he did let you go. Just not at exactly the moment you wanted him to. It sounds like he was scared and made a bad decision. But then when we came back, he let you go. No fight. No prophecy excuses. He stood there and watched you walk away.”
“Because he had to,” I said. “You brought an armada.”
“Two ships can hardly be classified as an armada,” Zara explained. “It’s defined as a large number of—”
“Okay, we got it, Zara.” Maya’s voice was firm now. “Cleo, he had every choice. He could have hidden you. Could have claimed you were somewhere else. Could have started a fight or negotiated or done any number of things to keep you there. But he didn’t. He let you go.”
“He told you to go,” Zara added. “Told you to take your time. Figure out what you want. That’s not taking away your choices. That’s giving them to you.”
I stared at my untouched food. “I hate it when you two do this.”
“Do what?” Zara leaned back in her chair. “Call you out when you’re not being rational because you’re scared?”
“I am not scared.”
“You’re terrified,” Maya said flatly. “You’re terrified that choosing him means losing yourself. That loving him means being trapped like you were with your father.”
My throat tightened. I’d told them about my childhood long ago, during one of our many long conversations. About my father’s control. About feeling suffocated in his house, in his vision of who I should be.
“Yup. You nailed it, Maya. But here’s the thing,” Zara continued.
“You’re not trapped here any more than you were back in that valley.
You can choose him, or not. There’s a difference between being held somewhere and choosing to stay.
Between being controlled and being loved by someone who’s scared of losing you. ”
“He made a mistake,” Maya said gently. “But people make mistakes, Cleo. Especially when they’re in love and terrified and dealing with cultures and prophecies and a thousand cycles of tradition telling them to protect what’s theirs.
You are his mate, and mate bonds don’t work like human relationships.
They’re deeper. More primal. The instinct to protect can be overwhelming. ”
“So I’m just supposed to accept that?” I mused. “Accept being protected whether I want it or not?”
“If you want to actually eat a meal, maybe,” Zara said.
“It’s painful to watch you do that with your food, honestly.
At least try not to mix them up so much.
That brown color you’ve made is…” She shook her head as I tried not to grin.
“Anyway, you could talk to him about it. Set boundaries. Figure out how to make it work. You know, like adults in a relationship.”
“We don’t have a relationship,” I said. “We had six cycles of amazing sex and then he destroyed any trust between us.”
“And you’ve been miserable ever since.” Zara gestured at my plate without looking at it.
“You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping.
You’re sitting on this ship staring at nothing and looking like you had a frontal lobotomy.
That doesn’t sound like someone who’s happy to be free.
That sounds like someone who left part of themselves behind. ”
The words hit too close. I pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. “I need some air.”
“We’re on a ship,” Zara pointed out, brows arching at the obvious. “The air in here is the same being recycled throughout the ship.”
“Fine. Then I need recycled air somewhere else.” I turned to leave.
I left the galley and headed for the observation deck. The small room had a viewport that looked out at the stars streaming past as we traveled. I pressed my palm against the cool surface, watching darkness stretch as we moved through space. Frontal lobotomy. Not a good look.
This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? The stars. The freedom to travel. The ability to chart my own course without anyone telling me where I could or couldn’t go.
So why did it feel so fucking empty?
I closed my eyes and saw Rezor’s face. The way he’d looked at me in the plaza as I prepared to leave. Pain and love and acceptance all mixed together. The way his marks had blazed through his shirt, calling to me even as he told me to go.
He’d let me leave, even though it was destroying him. Even though his marks were burning for me. Even though every instinct probably screamed at him to keep me there.
He’d let me go because he loved me.
Ah, I didn’t like that. I didn’t like how that thought settled over me, making me feel like no matter how many layers of clothes I put on, I’d never be warm again.
Rezor wasn’t like my father. My father had controlled me because he didn’t trust me to make the right choices.
Because he wanted to shape me into what he thought I should be.
Rezor had made a mistake out of some soup of fear and duty and cultural precedence.
And then when faced with the same choice again, he’d done the opposite.
He’d given me freedom. Given me time. Given me space to decide what I wanted without pressure or prophecy or anything else clouding the decision.
That was love.
Messy, imperfect, terrified love. But love nonetheless.
The door behind me hissed open. I didn’t turn around.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Torven’s deep voice was calm. “Zara said you needed air.”
“She sent you to check on me?”
“No, but she can be a little intense when she and Maya are worried, and they are. I thought I’d check and see if you wanted company that wasn’t them.” I heard him move closer. “May I?”
I nodded, and he came to stand beside me at the viewport. We watched the stars in silence for a moment.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“Everyone keeps asking me that.”
“Because you look like you’re about to shatter.
” He said it kindly. “I thought this mission was a success. We established full communication with the D’tran.
They’re keenly interested in re-terraforming efforts for the planet, which wouldn’t be possible if they hadn’t preserved as much of the plant and animal species as they had, to be honest. They want to build relationships with their Destran cousins.
Lord Rykar reports the valley is opening its borders for the first time in thousands of cycles. That’s huge.”
“It is,” I agreed.
“But you, Zara, and Maya all look like someone died.” He turned to face me. “What am I missing?”
I kept my eyes on the stars. “I fell in love with Rezor,” I said finally. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Ah.” Understanding colored his tone. “Yes, I knew that part.”
“Zara—”