“Unlikely,” Selik said. “If they are easily scared, they are not worthy friends.”
“That’s not how it works!”
She hid her smile and went to start dinner. Through the window, she could see the two moons rising again, painting the water in silver light. In the distance, fishing boats headed out for the night runs, their lights bobbing on the dark water.
This was her life now. Processing fish and raising children and falling asleep to the sound of waves. No tenure track, no academic publications, no carefully curated professional reputation.
Just this. Just family and work and the slow building of something new.
And somehow, impossibly, it was exactly what she wanted.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The nets came up heavy with the morning catch, silver scales flashing in the pale dawn light. Selik braced himself against the roll of the deck and hauled, muscles burning with the familiar ache of honest labor. Beside him, Jarrek worked the winch with ease of long practice, calling out warnings when the load shifted.
“Good haul,” the boy said, grinning. “My father will be pleased.”
He grunted an acknowledgment and helped guide the net over the side. Fish spilled onto the deck in a writhing mass—long-bodied creatures with fins that reminded him of Ciresian sand eels, mixed with rounder specimens that Jarrek called rock-backs. The smell of brine and scales filled his nostrils, sharp and clean.
Three months on Tillich Two’s waters had taught him to read the currents, to anticipate the tidal shifts, to recognize the subtle signs that meant a good fishing ground versus a waste of time and fuel. Velik had been right—everything he’d learned as a child on Ciresia needed translation here, but the fundamentals remained the same. Work efficiently and respect the water.
He’d spent the first two months working on Captain Drov’s boat before purchasing his own. Drov had arranged for him to purchase it at a discount, and Selik had agreed to provide part of his catch in return, an arrangement that worked for both of them. He’d also agreed to take on Jarrek as an assistant, another decision that had worked out well. The boy already had a considerable amount of knowledge, he worked without complaint, and he asked intelligent questions.
He sorted the catch with Jarrek, throwing back the juveniles and the protected species while keeping everything else. His hands moved automatically, leaving his mind free to wander to more pleasant thoughts.
Corinne would be at the processing facility by now, her small hands working with surprising speed as she cleaned and packaged fish for transport to the core worlds. She hated the smell and the monotony, but she never complained. Every evening she returned home exhausted, and every morning she rose before dawn to do it again.
My fierce mate, he thought proudly.So much stronger than she believes herself to be.
Anya would be finishing her morning studies—mathematics and literature that Corinne assigned, supplemented by the practical lessons he’d added about navigation and engineering. The girl had a quick mind when she chose to apply it, though he suspected she spent more time thinking about Jarrek than her equations.
He was not blind. He saw the way the boy looked at Anya, the way she preened when Jarrek complimented her. But Jarrek was respectful and hardworking, and his mother Rissan had welcomed their family with genuine warmth. As long as the boycontinued to behave with honor, he would allow the friendship to develop naturally.
And Mikoz… Mikoz would be with the neighbor’s daughter who minded him during the day. The infant had grown so much in three months—walking steadily now, attempting words in both Standard and Ciresian, displaying a personality that combined curiosity with stubborn determination.
My son, he thought, still amazed by the certainty of that claim. Not by blood, but by choice. By the bond that formed when he held the tiny life in his arms and promised to protect him.
“You’re smiling,” Jarrek observed. “Thinking about your family?”
“I am.”
“My dad says you’re lucky. Not many males get a second chance after losing their first mate.”
His hands stilled on the fish he was sorting. “Why does your father think that?”
“Everyone knows what happened to the Cire, sir. Well, everyone who pays attention.” Jarrek hauled another section of the net aboard.
Logical. And yet he could not shake the unease that had settled between his shoulders. Three months of peace was longer than he’d expected, but he was afraid that it was only temporary. The Council would not forget about Mikoz. They would keep searching, keep asking questions, keep pressing their network of informants.
Eventually, someone would talk.
The rest of the shift passed in companionable silence. He had come to appreciate Jarrek’s steady presence. When Captain Drov had suggested taking him on, he had initially refused. But Jarrek had worn down his resistance through persistence and genuine interest. And having the boy aboard meant he could take on more challenging work, which meant more income for his family.
Family.The word still felt strange in his mind, weighted with joy and terror in equal measure.
They returned to port as the sun climbed toward its zenith, unloading their catch at the processing facility where Corinne worked. He caught glimpses of her through the open bay doors—dark hair tucked under a cap, hands moving deftly as she gutted and cleaned.
She looked up as if sensing his presence and offered a small wave. The smile she gave him was tired but genuine, and it warmed something deep in his chest.
