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I bite the spoon, wondering if I channeled too much ethera into him. As Lara appears with another bowl of soup and a dish with dried fruit, all my thoughts turn to food. By the end of the meal, Kyle and Lara have taken out metal containers of seeds and spread them around the table.

Avoiding Lara’s worried gaze, I prop one open and pick up a pouch. Kyle, Lara, and I work on the first part of ten sections where plants and shrubs are to overtake the greenhouse. When we stop for a break, the light is dimming, and I’m not fast enough to hide a yawn.

“That’s it,” Lara whispers. “I’m taking you to bed.”

Unsure I want to argue about this, I take her offered hand, but the rev of an engine stops us in our tracks.

“Five more minutes won’t hurt,” she says with a tentative smile.

I chuckle, leaning on the table and picking up a sticky date. I’m not sure if it’s the exercise or my recovery, but I’m still ravenous.

Numair doesn’t make himself wait for long. He drops off bags with provisions as soon as he sees Lara and crosses the greenhouse in a few strides. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he gives Lara a soft kiss on the lips despite her half-hearted protests and a deep blush on her freckled cheeks. He pulls away but weaves his fingers through hers as he takes in the changes in the greenhouse.

“Well, hello there, Rebel Princess.” He ruffles my hair as he once did to Lara. I must have taken the open position for a friend. “I didn’t see you there.”

“An army of automatons could have marched by your side, and you wouldn’t have seen it,” Kyle mutters under his breath.

I snort, picking up a few dried apricots to calm my rumbling stomach. Numair is about to answer when a young woman walks into the garden. Her petite face is framed by thick waves of black hair so dark it glints with blue. Her eyes are shaped like almonds, just like the boy’s who trails behind her.

“Thank you for waiting for me, Numair,” she says in a melodious voice, and every word drips with sarcasm.

“Good evening to you too, Mylena,” Kyle says, closing the crates and stacking them in a neat pile.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her hand. Her eyes find me, and she tilts her head. “I thought there would be…just more, I guess.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mylena,” I say, pulling away from the table and drying my hand on my trousers.

I stretch it toward her, and she looks at it as if it was a vestige of the world before The Cataclysm, too alien for her to understand.

“Guess not,” I mutter.

“I have things to do. Lara, I need your help.”

She’s out of the door before Lara can even answer.

“I’ll go,” I say.

“Do you want to die today?” Lara asks.

She presses Numair’s hand and is off to the kitchen. Numair looks at the swinging doors as if giving the idea of following her a good thought.

“Could you please erase that stupid look from your face and help me?” Kyle asks.

Numair startles, looking at us as if he has forgotten about our existence.

“By the Maker, you’re smitten with her,” I say.

“I’m thinking of asking her to marry me.”

Kyle drops his crate. “Did you get hit on the head?”

“What?”

“You’ve been with her for a little over a week.”

“I’ve known her my whole life, and I’ve been a fool for too long for not to notice what a wonderful person she is.”

Kyle sighs. “Like father, like son. Did you know Erik asked my cousin to marry him the day he saw her? Couldn’t have met a happier couple.”