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I huff if only to hide a smile. Inara invites Numair to stay for dinner, but with a kiss on both of our cheeks, he’s off to see someone who’s expecting him.
“Lara,” Inara and I say in unison, sharing a conspiratorial look.
“It’s not Lara,” Numair says at the same time.
Shaking his head, he dashes out of the house, the door swinging shut behind his back. Our laughter fills the small kitchen, followed by bits of gossip, until we have to light candles to battle the night creeping in through the opened door. Before Inara chases me to bed, I dare to ask the question that has been nagging on me since I’ve come back and found his presence missing. “Where is Valdus?”
“At the factory. Governor Warren is coming for a visit.” Inara sighs. “He’ll be working double shifts for a while.”
I chew on my lip, feeling guilt spread through me until it’s an itch on my skin. I’ve done this to Valdus. Everything. The bullet wound. Double-shifts.
As if feeling my unease, Inara offers me a smile. “Every victory has its price.” She brushes my short bangs away from my eyes and adds, “This will pass. Every wrong will be set right. For no matter how hard we fall, we always rise stronger.”
Hours later, as I lie in my bed while desert cold and curling shadows reign in my room, I mull over what Inara has said. She might not be aware of all that happened, but she knows I’ve been hurt, betrayed, used as a pawn, and discarded when the game was over.
No matter how hard we fall, we always rise stronger. Inara’s words echo in my mind as my nightmares drag me to face my father, but the sound of breaking glass makes my eyes flutter open. The muffled curse that follows has me sitting up in the bed and straining my ears.
Someone is in the kitchen. A desert bandit. A marauder in search of loot. My mind conjures up images of The Wanderer, an outlaw of the empire, with his flock of dustwalkers, rummaging through our cupboards, and my heart only quickens its tempo. No matter who’s there, I won’t let them get away.
Draping a shirt over my shoulders to ward off the night’s chill, I slip out of the room. I take one step at a time, hold my breath, grip the wall until I can’t feel my fingertips. My hands itch for the reassuring grip of a sword I no longer own. I’m not sure I’ll win this fight, but as sure as eternity, I’ll make it a struggle for them to get away. Maybe it’ll be enough to make Inara wake up and get help.
Taking one last deep breath, I peer around the corner. All the tension leaves my body when I see Valdus hunched over a bowl of porridge, devouring his dinner as if a man starved for weeks. A shattered glass lies on the counter next to a kettle billowing steam.
I’m ready to climb the stairs back to my room when I trip on the uneven bottom step and topple backwards onto the kitchen floor. Valdus has missed a few smaller shards of glass, and they draw angry lines on my palms.
With a scrape of metal on stone, Valdus gets to my side and helps me to my feet. The cold seeping from his fingers calms the stinging pain.
“I heard a noise…I thought it might be a bandit,” I stutter, my gaze cast on my feet.
“And you came down armed only with your unyielding resolve and sharp words?”
His answer stings, and I don’t dare to look at him. “I’m sorry I’ve intruded. Again. I won’t bother you.”
“You misunderstand,” he says in a deep voice filled with gravel. “I’m happy to see you awake and recovered.”
“Right.”
I turn back to the stairs. Even though I had to dig a bullet from his abdomen as he lay bleeding out in a room of an abandoned building, nothing has changed. Now that I’ve seen for myself that he’s safe, I’ll have to work on giving him all the privacy he so gently demanded.
He catches the sleeve of my shirt before I can take a step. “Would you stay for some tea?”
I don’t dare to look at him, but I don’t leave either. Maybe I haven’t shattered his trust completely. Maybe I can still have a friend in this desert. I offer him a nod and walk to the table. Taking a seat and tugging a thick shawl over my shoulders, I twirl the tassels between my fingers while Valdus fills two glasses with steaming-hot tea.
“I heard Mylena has been as friendly as the sun in the middle of the day,” Valdus says, and I shrug, turning the burning-hot glass between my fingers. “What horrible thing has she told about me that you won’t even look at me now?”
I glance up and gasp. “What happened to you?”
“Sands,” he mutters. “I forgot about that.”
“You forgot you have a black eye and a cut on your lip deep enough to spill blood?”
Valdus motions for me to lower my voice, glancing toward the stairs. “There is no reason to wake Inara up.”
“No reason other than the fact you’re bleeding on the new tablecloth, you mean?”
“I’ll ask her to stitch it up in the morning, all right? Can you lower your voice now?”
I lean back in the chair, not agreeing to anything yet. “Tell me what happened.”
