She did trust him. That was the terrifying part—she trusted this warrior she’d known for less than a month with not just her life but the lives of her children.
They stayed at the water’s edge until the sun began its descent toward the horizon. The two moons rose one by one, exactly as Anya had described—pale silver orbs climbing into the darkening sky.
“It’s beautiful here,” the girl said quietly. “I miss Earth, but this is… I don’t know. It feels like home could feel like this.”
“It does,” she agreed.
Selik said nothing, but his tail wrapped around her waist in that possessive gesture she’d come to love.
That evening, they ate dinner on their small deck—more grilled seafood from the market, fresh bread from a bakery run by a four-armed alien who’d given them extra loaves when she saw Mikoz. The baby sat in Selik’s lap, gnawing on a piece of soft fruit and getting juice everywhere.
“I met our neighbors today,” Anya announced between bites. “While you guys were shopping. The family next door has a son who’s like sixteen, and he works on a fishing boat. He said he could show me around if we wanted.”
“A sixteen-year-old boy wants to show you around?” She did her best to sound casual, but Anya rolled her eyes.
“Not like that. He was just being friendly.”
“Uh huh.”
Selik’s eyes narrowed. “What species?”
“I don’t know, but he has these cool little horns. His name is Jarrek and his family has been here for like five years. He’s really nice and he didn’t ask weird questions or anything.”
“I will meet this Jarrek before you spend time with him.”
“Seriously? You’re going to do the overprotective dad thing?”
“I am going to ensure your safety. If that requires meeting your potential friends, then yes.”
Anya rolled her eyes but looked secretly pleased, and she hid her smile behind her cup. Watching Selik navigate teenage drama was going to be entertaining.
After dinner, they sat on the deck and watched the moons climb higher. Mikoz fell asleep in her arms, his small body warm and heavy. Anya retreated to her room to read, leaving them alone under the alien sky.
“Are you happy?” he asked quietly.
She considered the question. A month ago, she’d been a prisoner on a Vedeckian ship, terrified and desperate and certain she’d never see home again. Now she sat on a deck overlooking an alien ocean with a baby in her arms and a warrior at her side.
“I am,” she said, surprised to realize it was true. “Scared and uncertain and worried about the future, but happy. Is that weird?”
“No. I feel the same.” He pulled her closer, careful not to disturb the sleeping infant. “This is not the life I imagined for myself. But it is good.”
“Your grandfather would be proud,” she said. “You’re following in his footsteps.”
His expression softened. “He taught me that honest work done well is its own reward. That providing for those you love brings more satisfaction than any amount of glory or recognition.” He looked out at the dark water. “I did not understand when I was young. I wanted adventure and purpose. I wanted to matter.”
“You do matter. To us.”
“I know. And that is enough.”
They sat in comfortable silence, listening to the waves and the distant sounds of the colony settling in for the night. Somewhere nearby, someone played music—something with strings and a rhythm that made her think of lullabies.
“I start looking for work tomorrow,” she said. “The processing facilities, like you mentioned.”
“You do not have to. The funds Tarak transferred will sustain us for?—”
“I want to contribute. I need to feel useful.” She shifted Mikoz to her other arm. “And we both know your funds won’t last forever. Better to start building income now while we have a buffer.”
He didn’t argue, which meant he agreed with her logic even if he didn’t like it.
