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“Part of the ship. That’s a shuttle. It functions as a carriage, transporting small groups. The ship was still in orbit,” he explained.
“I guess that’s a silly question.”
“The only silly question is the one you don’t ask.”
The recording’s perspective shifted, pulling back from the people to sweep over the landscape. Except for the river, the terrain was unrecognizable from the present day. This was untamed with open meadows and tall grasses.
“It looks so wild,” she said.
He placed a hand on her back, rubbing it in a circle. “Sweetness, watch the recording. It’s not very long. You can ask your questions later.”
She leaned against him, sharing the blanket. The holographic images were fascinating, but she kept replaying the words no one else. He had this wonder, a literal treasure from another world, and shared it with her. Only her.
Glancing up, she caught him watching her. She smiled. His expression was as neutral as always, but his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. Satisfaction settled over her, warming her as efficiently as the blanket.
Chapter Sixteen
Draven
The Aerie
Mess Hall
“Stringer!”
The man jolted, dropping his spoon into his bowl with a splash. Brown droplets sprayed his shirt. His face screwed up in rage, but all expression vanished when he saw Draven approaching.
The constant noise of the commissary had fallen to an unnatural quiet.
“Lord Draven?” he asked, sounding perfectly bland and pleasant as he mopped up the spilled soup.
Draven might have believed the act, but he saw Stringer’s expression. That was loathing. Well, he didn’t need Stringer to be his friend and he didn’t need another devotee. Lemoine was more than enough in that regard.
“Do you have a list for me, or shall I pull the roster myself?”
“Yes, my apologies.” Stringer set the napkin down and rose, his chair scraping along the floor.
“With me,” Draven barked, turning on his heels.
Conversation resumed in the commissary.
Stringer scurried up alongside him and pulled a folded paper from his inner coat pocket. “My apologies, Lord Draven. I have the list here.”
Draven took the offered page and scanned it. None of the names appeared familiar. “Tell me about the latest recruits. How is their training coming along?”
“Good. Some instances of hoarding food but nothing too concerning.”
That happened. Food was plentiful in the Aerie, but newcomers had difficulty believing that they could eat as much as they pleased, whenever they pleased. They hoarded food as a perfectly rational response to having experienced hunger. Draven was not overly concerned by the behavior. It assured him the recruits were genuine and not military spies.
“Madame Lemoine is asking about your wishes for the winter solstice.”
“Lemoine is more than capable of asking me herself,” Draven replied.
“I am also curious. Should we plan for the same as last year, or would Lady Charlotte want something more elaborate?”
Draven’s top lip curled back when the man said Charlotte’s name. There was no hint of impropriety in his voice. Nothing to take offense at. Draven simply disliked how anyone could speak her name.
“What is wrong with how we mark the winter solstice?” he asked. The people of Nexus still celebrate Earth holidays, particularly the winter ones. Draven could remember when they were separate events—Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and so on—but time had blurred them together into one day held on the winter solstice.
