“And you?”
The truth aches in my chest. “I couldn’t protect my parents. So I try to protect everyone else. My brothers. Their Brides. The children.” I pause. “And now you.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” she whispers.
I grunt in response. “Sleep.”
She exhales and rolls onto her side. “I’ll try.”
Many hours later,gray light seeps through the window.
I’m already on my feet, folding the blanket. My body is stiff from the hard floor, but I’ve had worse nights, trying to nap in the caves. At least no one came through that door.
Ines sits up in bed. Her hair is wild, her eyes tired. She didn’t sleep much either. “The transport to the station leaves in three hours,” she says.
I nod. I don’t trust my voice.
Three hours and then she’s gone. Back to New Earth and Singapore, returning to a life that has nothing to do with me, my family or this mine.
I should be relieved. She was originally a complication I never wanted. But I’m not relieved. I’m hollow.
“Thank you. For staying. For...” She trails off. Ines sits on the edge of the bed, small, rumpled and beautiful. The morning lightcatches the gold in her hazel eyes. Her lips are parted slightly, searching for words.
I want to tell her that I wish she was compatible. That I want nothing more than to offer to clasp hands with her and become enflamed with the claiming. I want her to stay here on Timbur and become my bride and the mother of my offspring, if she will have me.
But this is impossible.
“Safe travels, Ines,” I respond with a rough voice.
Something flickers across her face. Pain, maybe. Or disappointment.
Then noise erupts from the common room. Deep adult voices and the shriek of a child’s voice. Movement. The compound waking up around us.
The moment shatters.
I turn, open the bedroom door and walk out of her room before I can do something stupid, like beg her to stay.
