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“Oh, am I running too fast for you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes,” he told her, winking.
“Last one back to the meadow has to tell Slaite I’m not carrying a blaster,” she said, then took off like she was a sprinter in the Intergalactic Games.
Some ancient predator instinct had him thundering after her with a burst of energy he hadn’t known he had.
Trees flashed past, but he kept his eyes on her dark ponytail and those flimsy pink sneakers.
He had almost caught her when they burst out into the meadow, dew sparkling like diamonds in the pink light of dawn.
Yasmine laughed and leaned over with her hands on her knees, panting.
Ba’sh would have stood there laughing with her all day, if his comms hadn’t gone off the minute he reached her.
“I’ll talk to Slaite,” he told her, giving a little wave as he headed back toward the palace, swiping his bracelet to pick up the first call of the day.
His mind was feeling just a little clearer, and he was pretty sure it was from more than just the run.
