“I’m always careful.”
“You’re never careful. You’re fucking lucky, which is entirely different and considerably less reliable.” Athtar held his gaze for a long moment. “Good hunting, Doren va Karr. Try not to die.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And then Athtar was gone, his heavy footsteps fading up the corridor towards the docking bay exit.
He stood alone in the cargo hold, surrounded by supplies and trade goods and all the accumulated evidence of his wandering life, as the conversation played back through his mind.
What happens when you have to choose?
He didn’t know. That was the truth of it. He’d spent so long defining himself by the hunt, by the search for the Vault, by the desperate need to prove he was worth something. The idea of giving that up and being content with ordinary happiness, with a family, with a life that didn’t constantly push forward towards some distant goal felt foreign and unnatural.
But so did the idea of losing Emma. Of watching her walk away because he’d chosen his obsession over her. Of explaining to Ari someday that he’d missed her childhood because he was too busy chasing legends.
“Damn you, Athtar,” he muttered, and went to finish the pre-flight checks.
Emma was in the captain’s cabin when he found her, settling Ari into the makeshift crib they’d assembled from cushions and cargo straps. The baby was already half-asleep, her silver skin faintly luminescent in the dim light.
“Everything okay?” Emma looked up as he entered, her brow creased with concern. “You were down there a long time.”
“Just saying goodbye. You know how Athtar is—he can’t let anyone leave without a lecture.”
“About what?”
He hesitated, then crossed to stand beside her, looking down at the sleeping infant. “About choices. About what matters. The usual philosophical nonsense.”
She was quiet for a moment, her hand resting lightly on Ari’s chest. “He’s worried about us.”
“He’s worried about you and Ari. I’m fairly certain he’d be happy to see me fly into a sun.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” She straightened, turning to face him. “He loves you. In that grumpy, never-admits-it kind of way.”
“He has a terrible way of showing it.”
“Most people do.” She reached up, smoothing a wrinkle in his collar that didn’t exist. It was a gesture she’d started doing recently, a casual intimacy that never failed to make his heart stutter. “What did he say? Really?”
He caught her hand, holding it against his chest. “He asked me what I’d do if I had to choose between the Vault and... other things.”
“Other things being us.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes searched his face. “And what did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know.” The honesty felt like swallowing glass. “I’ve never been good at choosing, Emma. I’ve spent my whole life running from decisions, keeping my options open, and making sure I always had an exit route.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. I’m not blind.” Her smile was sad but understanding. “You flinch every time I talk about the future. You change the subject when things get too serious. You’ve built your entire life around the freedom to leave whenever you want.”
“And that doesn’t... bother you?”
“It terrifies me.” She laughed softly. “But I’ve decided to trust you anyway. Maybe that makes me stupid.”
“It makes you braver than I am.”
