“I am on the side of your education.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.”
They’d had this argument before. Anya resisted structure and discipline, preferring to learn through experience rather than formal study. He understood the impulse—he’d been similar at her age—but he also knew that knowledge saved lives. The more she learned now, the better equipped she’d be to handle whatever challenges the future held.
And if the Council found them, she would need every advantage she could get.
“Jarrek said you’re going to take us out on the boat tomorrow,” she said, changing the subject. “Is that true?”
“If the weather holds, yes.”
“That’s so exciting! I’ve never been on a real fishing boat before.” She sat up, eyes bright. “Can I help with the nets? Jarrek has been teaching me how they work.”
“We shall see.”
“That means no.”
“It means we shall see. If you demonstrate competence in basic safety protocols, you may assist with simple tasks.”
She grinned, recognizing the compromise for what it was—as close to permission as he was willing to give without more information.
Corinne arrived as the sun touched the horizon, bringing with her the smell of fish and cleaning chemicals. She kissed Mikoz, ruffled Anya’s hair, and pressed her face against Selik’s chest for a long moment before pulling away.
“Rough day?” he asked.
“Long day. We had a massive shipment come in and Chanda wanted it processed before the transport arrived.” She kicked off her boots and flexed her feet with a groan. “I’m seriously considering amputating everything below the ankle.”
“That seems extreme.”
“You’re not the one who’s been standing on concrete for ten hours.”
He guided her to the couch and sat her down, then lifted her feet into his lap and began massaging them with careful pressure. She melted against the cushions with a sound that made improper thoughts flood his mind.
“You’re amazing,” she murmured. “Have I mentioned that recently?”
“Not in the past several hours.”
“Well, you are. Amazing and perfect and I’m keeping you forever.”
Anya made gagging noises from the kitchen where she’d started preparing dinner. “You two are disgusting.”
“You’re just jealous,” Corinne said without opening her eyes.
“I absolutely am not.”
“Jarrek thinks we’re romantic.”
“Jarrek is weird.”
Selik continued working the tension from Corinne’s feet and calves, feeling her gradually relax under his hands. This had become their routine—she came home exhausted, he helped her recover, and together they created something that felt remarkably like peace.
Dinner was simple but satisfying. They ate together at the small table, Mikoz in his high chair attempting to feed himself with messy enthusiasm. Anya dominated the conversation with stories about her day, and Corinne interjected with amusing observations about the facility workers.
He mostly listened, content to absorb their voices and presence. His family. His purpose. His reason for continuing to draw breath.
After the children went to bed, he and Corinne sat on the deck under the two moons. She’d changed into comfortable clothing and her hair hung loose around her shoulders, still damp from washing.
