Page 59 of Bonds of Starfall

The cool, reserved man used it for something trivial—to craft a flower, which he pressed into her hands with a gentle kiss to her brow. She stroked her finger over the tiny blue petals, like silk. "What are they?" she murmured.

"Forget-me-nots."

She looked up at that, finding thick emotion swirling in the depths of his green eyes; she swore, behind the lens of his glasses, that there was the slightest sheen to them.

Her throat closed up. "I’ll cherish them."

Lucien held a hand over hers, green tendrils snaking down from his fingers and rustling through the petals of the forget-me-nots. His Stella was a cool brush of feeling, warm and earthy.

"There," he murmured, "now they will never die."

Her lips parted, a thousand words lingering on the tip of her tongue, but a stern voice shattered the soft innocence cloaking them both.

"Five minutes, Blackfall. Say your goodbyes."

Hearing that last name made her stomach flip. She had more than just one thing keeping her going now—she had someone to come back to.

"I’ll see you in two weeks." She tried to keep her tone light, holding up the flowers in her hand. "I won’t forget you."

Something unreadable flashed over Lucien’s face. "Don’t make promises you cannot keep, Vesperin." His fingers brushed over the petals in her palm. "Take good care of them—and yourself. If you need me, find a phone that connects off-planet. The cost does not matter. I put Sibeth coin in your bag. Call me, and I will come for you."

She nodded, knowing she wouldn’t, even if she did need him. She had to do this alone. "Thank you… for all of it. Everything."

"You never have to thank me," Lucien replied.

It was quick after that.

Plin called for her to board. She held the flowers in her hand as she walked into the ship, watching through the tinted window as Lucien descended the stairs and stood by the others near the control panel.

It was quiet inside.

"Buckle up," Plin said from his spot at the pilot’s chair, fingers expertly pressing buttons and flipping switches.

She did, going to one of the chairs at the back, folding her arms into the harness and strapping them onto her legs. The buckle at her chest clicked with a resounding noise—she was trapped.

"Here." A simple headset was thrown onto her lap, and she caught it, looking up at the pilot who wore a matching one. It fit around the back of her head, a thin black wire, with a circular piece that pressed to her brow and one earbud that folded over her ear.

The seat she had chosen faced right out at the window, and she pressed the forget-me-nots into her lap, covering them with a hand as Plin began to call through the take-off procedures, his voice crackling through her headset.

The ship began to rumble below her as Plin directed it out of the hangar, onto the track. He was wholly focused on the panels of buttons before him.

She watched through the tinted window as the long stretch of the track flashed by, golden dawn sunlight making the tar sparkle.

"Going up!" Plin’s voice carried through the speaker, laced with excitement. The ship tilted, making Rin’s back press into the seat. A loud mechanical noise whirred under them, and without her permission, her hands started to shake.

Her lids drifted shut, unable to muster more than a soft sound as they took off from the ground. Minutes passed, her ears popped, and the ship trembled as air rushed around them.

Rin didn’t open her eyes, body tense, yet hands achingly delicate as they cradled the flowers.

After some time, her breaths shallow, shoulders and spine aching from how they pressed against the seat back, the rough rattle of the ship smoothed out, the air grew still, the rushing wind ceased, and energy crackled around her, like small bolts of lightning zipping across her skin, even under the thick fabric of her suit.

"Leveling out," Plin said. "I would say, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to space, but…" He trailed off, settling on, "Lady, welcome to space. Where no one can hear you scream, and the Stars are closer than ever." Mirth infused the pilot’s tone, and the adventurous, playful lilt of it reminded her so much ofhimthat tears burned the back of her eyes.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted by darkness, speckled, dappled bits of swirling lights, mingling with dots of Stars out the sleek, tinted window.

It was glorious.

She hadn’t been in space in years. And the commercial ships were nothing like a Fleet model. This one was made for swift elegance, built small and compact, unlike the large ships that could carry hundreds off-planet for vacations or work trips.