“I’ve been thinking a lot,” I begin. “About what you said.”
He stays silent, which I suppose is fair enough—he already bared his heart to me. I wouldn’t volunteer for a second round either if I were him.
“I’m glad you told me,” I say. “It can’t have been easy.”
He’s quiet for a little after that, but I can tell he’s considering my words, rather than refusing to answer. Fin is long out of earshot when he finally speaks.
“It was not,” he says. “But I owed you the truth.”
As we approach the first skiff slowly, carefully, I look around at the ruins of the place that would’ve been my world. Kal raises his uniglass toward the engines, taking some kind of reading. After a moment, he sighs and shakes his head—no dice. The power core on the skiff is dead. We move on to the next.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything straightaway,” I offer. “It was … a surprise. I mean, for you too, I’m guessing. Back when it first happened, I mean.”
“It truly was.” He pauses. “You Terrans say that home is where the heart lies. When my world died, I thought perhaps my heart had died with it. I did not think I could ever feel this way. About anyone. Let alone a human.”
“But you do.”
“… I do,” he says.
“But you’re going to leave, when this is over.”
“Yes.” He walks on, weapon raised, me beside him. “I joined the Legion because I wished to escape. The war among my people. The war in my soul. But to reject my darker side only strengthens it. To lock it in a cage, to deny it is part of me … I cannot stop being what I am. Instead, I must muster the rage to master it.”
He shrugs and sighs.
“My mother’s people have a saying: ke’tma indayōna be’trai. It means … you do not walk alone when you walk your true path. I will be able to walk mine if I know you are pursuing your own. By honoring your wishes, I honor the Pull that has called me. And my path leads back to my people. To the war tearing us apart.”
I can see what the words cost him. What the idea of going away costs him. I can see it for the excuse that it is. He’s not a very good liar, now I know what I’m looking for.
I move up beside him to look down at the disruptor in his arms. The blood on his hands.
“Are you sure that’s your true path?”
He follows my gaze, tightens his grip on the rifle.
“A warrior is all I was raised to be, Aurora.”
I look up sidelong at him for a moment, wishing he’d meet my eyes, but he’s steadfastly concentrating on our surroundings. And as the silence stretches, and I consider his words, it strikes me that he’s not the only one who needs to find a way to walk his path.
Truth is, I’m afraid of what I’m becoming. I can feel it inside me now, if I look. There’s something so much bigger going on here. And even though I know I’m a part of it, I’m afraid I’ll lose myself inside it. But if I was in control of it, if I could have called up whatever this power of mine is, I could have stopped the fight before Cat was hurt.
And isn’t protecting my new friends worth the risk?
I’m beginning to think that my choice is between surfing this wave—barely in control, but at least trying to steer—or being dumped by it. Tumbled over and over until I drown.
Watching Kal, I realize how alike we are. Both alone. Both without a home. Both of us have had our paths chosen for us by forces outside our control. He said he’s never heard of a Syldrathi who felt the Pull with a human. Being at the mercy of that, of the warrior within him—must be so hard.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “That you don’t get to choose for yourself.”
He glances up to the sky briefly, sunlight glinting in those violet eyes. “Do moons choose the planets they orbit? Do planets choose their stars? Who am I to deny gravity, Aurora? When you shine brighter than any constellation in the sky?”
I look at this strange boy beside me. It would be so easy to simply see him as a weapon. A beautiful one, sure. But still, a boy made of violence, with his scabbed knuckles and his arrogant grace and his