Page 184 of Dustwalker

“Sunset is in less than an hour.” Ronin tilted his head with a grin. “And when have you ever passed up an opportunity for me to take you to bed, anyway?”

Lara chuckled. “We can go upstairs, as long as you promise not to rip my shirt this time.” Her smile was strained, her face too pale.

Ronin brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Come then, my wife.”

He pulled out her chair and lifted her into his arms. Lara’s weight had always been slight to him, but she was thinner now than ever before. She slid her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her up to the bedroom.

Ronin set her on her feet beside the bed, and she took his face between her hands, kissing him. He returned the kiss and undressed her. His hands brushed over her skin, which was so changed, yet so familiar, lingering on the stretch marks and scars. They were evidence of a hard-fought life made all the more precious by its struggles.

He touched his forehead to hers. “You remain the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“You’ve always made me feel that way.”

He helped her into her nightgown and pulled back the covers. Sheslipped into bed slowly. Ronin kicked off his boots and changed out of his dirty clothes, putting on a plain shirt and a pair of shorts. He climbed onto the bed and drew her into his arms, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. Her body still fit against his perfectly.

Lara’s light breath tickled the sensors on his skin. He took her braid in one hand, absently running his fingertips along it.

“I never thought I’d have this life,” she said softly.

“Neither did I. It is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

She reached up and brushed her fingers over his jaw. “Even after all these years, I haven’t had enough time to love you.”

Her words pierced him; they were too final, too true. He settled a hand on her cheek and stroked his thumbs over the fine wrinkles near her eye. Ten thousand years wouldn’t have been enough, but this…it was much, much too soon.

“We have years more to go, Lara.”

“Bots always say what they mean,” she said, “but that doesn’t make it the truth.”

“Lara, I?—”

“Shh.” She placed a finger over his lips as she met his gaze. Her smile was warm, though her eyes were tired. “Will you stay with me while I sleep?”

“You know I always do.”

“And you know I always ask.”

She relaxed, her weight settling against him, and soon her breathing evened out. He measured time by the slow, faint beat of her heart, pulling up memories from their life together.

Her sunburn after her first day working in the fields despite the lengths to which she’d gone to cover herself. The joyous smile she’d worn the first time she held Tabitha and the tears that had followed. Her patience with the townsfolk when they came to her—the mother of the revolution that had set them free—for advice. The life glowing in her eyes when she danced, just for him.

And every time she’d told him she loved him.

Two hours and eleven minutes after midnight, she released her final breath. It flowed over Ronin’s skin gently, the last caress from the woman he loved with all the power in his processors. He held her close and shut his eyes, pressing his lips to her hair.

“I will love you even after darkness takes me,” he whispered.

“Mom? Dad?” Tabitha called as she stepped through the front door of her parents’ home. Silence greeted her. She checked the kitchen, where a plate with a partly eaten slice of jellied bread was upon the table along with the flowers she’d picked yesterday.

“Mom?” she called again, unable to keep the worry from her voice. It was early, and her mother had been more tired than usual lately…though shouldn’t her father have answered?

She hurried upstairs. The door to their bedroom was ajar, and her heart pounded as she approached it.

She knocked. There was no reply.

“You guys in here?” Tabitha pushed the door open all the way.

Tabitha knew the moment she saw them. Tears blurred her eyes as she staggered to the bed, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as though she could hold in the sound of her own heartbroken silence.