Page 115 of Alien Burn

SEREYA

Sereya had been smiling at a sleeve.

An empty sleeve, since Dhomhes had left her at the doors several minutes ago. She could still feel the soft fold of his cuff between her fingers, and the ridiculous pleasure of straightening something that hadn't needed straightening.

She shut her room door and leaned against it.

He had held her hand after breakfast with people walking past who could have looked and seen. And when she'd asked what he wanted, he'd answered her.

The room seemed less borrowed this morning. Her dress hung in the small wardrobe. The cup beside the bed was hers until someone came to wash it. She had left the shutters partly open because she could, and a band of warm light lay across the coverlet.

She walked through it, touching nothing, enjoying the absurd fact that there was nobody to ask why.

Her comm sounded.

For a moment she thought it might be him. She reached for it too quickly, and hated Roemary a little more for making her regret the hope.

Your things have been mixed with mine. Come to the common gallery and sort them. I cannot be expected to know what you want to keep.

Sereya looked at the wardrobe.

Everything she owned on this planet was already here.

The residence staff could bring anything belonging to me.

Then she put the comm down and waited for the familiar second message.

Roemary's next message arrived before she reached the window. Sereya left it unanswered.

The common gallery was on the way to the residence office. Sereya had agreed to meet a staff member there to confirm the last of her room paperwork. She had a guard walking with her and a perfectly ordinary reason to leave her room.

She repeated both facts to herself when she saw Roemary near the windows.

Two other volunteers were sitting with her. One held a length of blue fabric against her arm while Roemary considered it with the grave attention she gave matters that would never hurt her.

“There you are.” Her smile widened. “We were just talking about you.”

Of course they were.

“The color is lovely,” Sereya told the woman holding the fabric.

The woman looked faintly surprised. Then she smiled.

“Isn't it?” Roemary said. “I've been trying to persuade Sereya to wear something cheerful. But she gets these notions. Once she's decided to be miserable, there's no moving her.”

There was a small, uncertain laugh from the other chair.

Sereya could have sat down. She could have made the accustomed joke about her own lack of imagination, and the uncertainty would have gone out of the room. Everyone would have known what part to play.

“I've been quite comfortable,” she said.

Roemary's eyes met hers.

The guard remained near the gallery entrance. Close enough to reach her. Too far away to rescue her from a conversation that sounded pleasant.

“Good. Then perhaps you can spare a moment for someone other than your new friends.” Roemary rose and picked up a folded cloth from the table. “This was left in our rooms.”

She held it out.