Page 18

GUVAN

T he sun hangs low over Mirror Lake, painting the water in streaks of amber and violet.

I lean back against the hood of the Range Rover, the metal warm beneath me, and Reily sits next to me, her legs tucked up under her.

The air smells like pine and the faint tang of the lake, , the world feels still.

Peaceful. Something I haven’t felt in a long, long time.

“I’ll save this lake,” I say, my voice low but firm. “It’s a treasure. I’ve seen wonders across the galaxy, but this… this is unmatched. Well, almost.”

Reily tilts her head, her red hair catching the last rays of sunlight. “Almost? What’s more beautiful than this?”

I don’t hesitate. “You.”

She snorts, a little laugh escaping her, but there’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Smooth, alien boy. Real smooth.”

“I’m not trying to be smooth,” I say, my tone serious. “I’m stating a fact.”

She falls quiet, her fingers playing with the hem of her flannel shirt. I feel the tension in her body, the way she’s coiled tight like she’s bracing for something. Sshe finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guvan?”

“Hmm?”

“What did I break? That night, when we… you know. You were so angry. I’ve been too scared to ask, but… I need to know.”

The question hangs between us, heavy and raw.

I suck in a breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs before I exhale slowly.

The anger I’ve been carrying since she smashed that brick through my limo window feels distant now, like a storm that’s passed.

I’m done being mad at her. She didn’t know. How could she?

“It was a globe,” I say, my voice steady but soft.

“About this big.” I hold my hands apart, the size of a softball.

“My parents made it, using their own scales. It was called Sunrise on Vakuta . They crafted it together, a mosaic of red and orange. It was… it was the last thing I had left of them. The only thing.”

Reily’s breath catches, and her hands fly to her mouth. “Oh, God. Guvan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Her voice breaks, and she starts to cry, her shoulders shaking. I reach out, my large hand cupping her cheek, the warmth of her skin against my rough palm. “Hey. Look at me.”

She does, her blue eyes swimming with tears. “I didn’t mean to take that from you. I was just so angry, and I… I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”

I brush a tear away with my thumb, my voice soft but firm. “You didn’t take anything from me, Reily. Not really. I’ve gained so much more. You’ve given me something I haven’t had in centuries.”

Her breath hitches again, and she leans into my touch. “What’s that?”

“You,” I say simply. “You’re my sunrise now.”

She lets out a choked laugh, tears still streaming down her face. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s true,” I say, leaning in to kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, brushing away the tears. “I love you, Reily Dawson. My little spitfire.”

She buries her face in my chest, her arms wrapping around me. “I love you too, Guvan…my Master.”

I hold her close, the sound of the lake lapping at the shore blending with the rhythm of her breathing. For the first time in a long time, I feel whole.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting the lake in a golden glow. Reily shoves her phone into my hand and leans back, her arms spread wide like she’s trying to hug the entire view.

“Take it,” she says, grinning. “Make me look good.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You always look good.”

She rolls her eyes but keeps smiling. “Yeah, yeah, but this is for the grandkids, Guvan. We need proof we were young and hot once.”

I snort, holding the phone out with my long arm to get the best angle. She’s framed perfectly, the lake behind her shimmering with the last light of the day. I snap a few shots before handing it back. “Why the sudden urge for photos?”

She flips through the pictures, nodding approvingly. “We exchanged the L word, Guvan. My mom’s been hinting she knows something’s up, and so has everyone else. They’re not dumb.”

“What are you getting at?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

She steps closer, her blue eyes locking onto mine. “We’re together. We kind of already were, unofficially. But it’s official now, so that means I want pictures we can show our grandkids someday.”

I laugh, the sound low and rumbling. “You’re planning our future already?”

“Damn right,” she says, punching my arm playfully. “Someone’s got to keep you in line.”

The drive back to the cabin is quiet, my hand resting on her thigh as she hums along to the radio. When we pull up, I’m surprised to see Jareth sitting on the porch, his human holographic disguise flickering slightly.

“You,” I say, stepping out of the Range Rover. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since that maid’s uniform incident.”

Jareth holds up his hands in mock surrender. “How was I supposed to know about human cultural nuance? I’m a tech guy, not a fashion consultant.”

Reily laughs, leaning against the car. “Nice to see you, Jareth.”

He nods, tossing her a small vial filled with a clear liquid. “Veritas finally developed a cure for the sickness. It’s tasteless and colorless, so it’s being added to the town’s water supply. But I brought a concentrated dose for your mom. It’ll work almost instantly.”

Reily’s eyes widen, and she clutches the vial like it’s made of gold. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

Jareth shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t let it go to your head, Irons.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “It sort of makes us even.”

Reily hops into her POS, waving as she speeds off to deliver the cure.

Jareth turns to me, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “So, got any beer?”

I glance at him, then at the cabin. “Yeah. Come on, let’s crack a few.”

He follows me inside, and I feel like maybe, just maybe, things are falling into place.

I lean back in the armchair, the fire crackling in the hearth, and take a long swig of beer. The taste is bitter, earthy, and it reminds me of the cheap swill we used to drink on Vakuta during the war. Jareth sits cross-legged on the rug, his own bottle resting on his knee.

“Remember the Battle of Krixus Ridge?” he asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “When you charged that Grolgath artillery line with nothing but a plasma glaive and a death wish?”

I grunt, tipping the bottle toward him. “And you were supposed to cover me, but you were too busy arguing with Command about whether the cloaking tech on your ship was faulty.”

Jareth laughs, the sound light and sharp. “It was faulty. You nearly got turned into a smear on that ridge.”

“But I didn’t.” I take another drink, the memory of the fight still fresh in my mind. The smell of burning fuel, the roar of plasma cannons, the way my glaive had sung as it sliced through the enemy. “We won that day.”

“Barely.” Jareth rolls his eyes, but there’s a glint of respect in his gaze. “You’re a maniac, Guvan. Always have been.”

I shrug, not disagreeing. “It worked, didn’t it?”

The fire pops, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of shared history. After a moment, Jareth breaks it.

“So,” he says, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Reily Dawson. You’re serious about her, aren’t you?”

I stiffen, my grip tightening on the bottle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, big guy. You’re not exactly subtle.

” Jareth gestures at the cabin. “You’ve got her photo on your compad, which, by the way, I saw when you handed it to me earlier.

You’ve been smiling more in the last two weeks than in the last two centuries.

And don’t even get me started on the way you look at her. ”

I glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. “She’s… different.”

“Different?” He snorts. “Guvan, I think she might be your jalshagar.”

The word hits me like a punch to the chest. My jalshagar. My soulmate. It’s a concept I’ve never given much thought to, not since the war. Not since I became what I am—a weapon, a soldier, a monster. But now, sitting here with Jareth’s words hanging in the air, it feels… right.

“Maybe,” I admit, my voice low.

Jareth just nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Speaking of Grolgath…”

“Ah, here we go.” Jareth leans back, crossing his arms. “What’s on your mind?”

“Is there a way to force them into their true forms? Something that works over a wide area? If I can expose Cold Slither as Grolgath, I can act against them openly.”

Jareth frowns, tapping his chin. “Chemical agents can do it, but you’d have to get close. Like, really close. A wide-area solution…” He trails off, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I’ll have to look into it. I might be able to rig something up, but it’ll take time.”

“Do it,” I say, leaning forward. “I need options.”

“I’ll see what I can cook up.” He raises his bottle in a mock toast. “For you, big guy, anything.”

I chuckle, clinking my bottle against his. “Thanks, Jareth.”

My compad buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the moment. I reach for it, the screen lighting up with a message from Pyke. I open it, and his holographic face materializes above the device.

“Guvan,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “Do not use your fortune to block Hoag from finding new investors for the dam. This is a human matter, not a Veritas matter. Do you understand?”

I grit my teeth, frustration bubbling up inside me. “What am I supposed to do, then? Just let it happen?”

Pyke’s expression doesn’t change. “Act within human means. Use your influence, your connections, your reputation—but no alien technology, no Veritas resources. I don’t know the solution, Guvan, but you’re free to find one. Just keep it… conventional.”

The hologram flickers out, leaving me staring at the empty space where Pyke’s face had been. I set the compad down, my mind racing. I promised Reily I’d save Mirror Lake, but how am I supposed to do that without the tools at my disposal?