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CHAPTER TWENTY

T hraxar sat across from Elrin, the familiar scent of the Treveloran’s spiced tea filling the room. Outside the window, Kara watched over the children as they explored the garden.

“You seem happier than I’ve ever seen you, my friend,” Elrin observed, his orange and gold crest ruffling slightly as he tilted his head.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and the chair creaked beneath his weight. “I do not know what you mean.”

Elrin’s beak-like nose twitched—a sign of amusement Thraxar recognized from their long acquaintance. “No? The Thraxar I’ve known these past years would never have brought a female and two children to my home. The Thraxar I knew kept everyone at arm’s length.”

“Circumstances required my intervention,” he muttered, his tail twitching.

“Of course.” Elrin took a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Thraxar’s face. “And now that you’ve intervened?”

His gaze drifted back to the window. Kara knelt beside Rory, examining something in his palm. The sunlight caught in her hair, turning it to fire. His chest tightened at the sight.

“I do not know,” he finally admitted. “I had not planned beyond getting them somewhere safe.”

“And yet you haven’t left them at a Patrol station.”

His tail lashed again, betraying his agitation. “The situation became more complex.”

“With the addition of the second child,” Elrin nodded. “Tell me about her.”

Grateful for the change in subject, he described how they’d found Talia. “The trader claimed to have received her in payment for a debt.”

Elrin’s expression darkened. “There are those who traffic in exotic beings. The rarer, the more valuable. And the Lumiri are very rare. I have only seen images, but they are from a system far from established trade routes. Isolationists, from what little is known.”

“Then how did she end up in a cage on a border world?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Elrin tapped his long fingers against the table. “I have contacts who might know more. I’ll need time to research.”

“How much time?”

“A few weeks, perhaps. These matters require discretion.”

He nodded. “Thank you, my friend.”

Elrin’s nose twitched again. “What will you do while I investigate?”

“I had not thought that far ahead.”

“Perhaps you should.” Elrin gestured toward the window. “Look at them, Thraxar.”

Outside, the children had created some sort of game. Rory arranged stones in a pattern while Talia placed flowers between them. Their faces were intent, focused on their shared creation. Kara sat nearby, watching them with a soft smile.

“They look happy,” he said quietly.

“They do.” Elrin’s voice held a gentle wisdom. “When was the last time you allowed yourself that simple pleasure?”

The question struck deeper than Elrin could know. Happiness had been a distant memory for so long. Something he had convinced himself he didn’t deserve.

“I was happy once,” he admitted. “On my father’s ship, but I wanted more—it was why we returned to Ciresia.”

The admission hung between them. He had never spoken of his reasons for returning home before the plague struck.

“And now?” Elrin asked softly.

His gaze remained fixed on the tableau outside. “I do not know what I want anymore.”

But that wasn’t entirely true. Looking at Kara and the children, he knew exactly what he wanted. He just didn’t know if he deserved it—or if they would choose to stay with him once they had other options.

“Don’t wait too long to decide,” Elrin advised. “Some opportunities come only once in a lifetime.”

He nodded, then quickly changed the subject, asking about the local economy, the availability of housing, the job market for someone with his skills. Practical questions that probably revealed more than he intended.

Elrin answered each query patiently, his eyes knowing.

When they finally joined Kara and the children in the garden, he felt a strange lightness. Possibilities he hadn’t considered before now seemed within reach.

Rory immediately came to him, taking his hand and leading him to see the creation he and Talia had made. A spiral of stones with flowers placed in precise intervals. The pattern reminded him of the navigation charts he’d studied as a young male.

“It’s very good,” he told the boy, and was rewarded with a beaming smile.

Talia hung back, watching him with her large dark eyes. When he extended his hand to her, she approached cautiously.

“Did you help make this?” he asked her.

She nodded, ears shifting to a pleased lavender. “I added the flowers.”

“They are perfect,” he told her, and meant it.

Kara came to stand beside him, close enough that her arm brushed against his. His tail automatically curled around her waist.

“What did you and Elrin discuss?” she asked quietly.

“Many things.” He kept his voice equally low. “He thinks he knows where Talia is from, but he needs time to research.”

Her expression grew concerned. “Will we need to give her up?”

The “we” in her question warmed something deep inside him. “I do not know. But we will not make any decisions without considering what is best for her.”

She nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “And what do we do while he researches?”

He looked around the peaceful garden, at the children playing together, at the woman beside him. An idea took shape.

“I thought perhaps we might stay planetside for a while,” he said carefully. “I could find work as a mechanic. There’s a shipyard in the main settlement.”

“And living arrangements?”

“I could inquire about housing. Something with a garden, perhaps.”

The hope that bloomed in her eyes made his chest ache. “You’d do that? For us?”

“For all of us,” he corrected gently. “If that’s what you want.”

Her hand found his, their fingers intertwining. “It is.”

The journey back to his ship was filled with a strange anticipation. Not the adrenaline of danger or the wariness of unfamiliar territory, but something brighter. More hopeful.

After settling Kara and the children aboard, he made his way to the shipyard at the edge of the settlement. The place was busy but orderly, with various vessels in different stages of repair. The scent of metal and engine oil filled the air, familiar and oddly comforting.

He asked directions to the supervisor’s office and was pointed toward a small prefabricated building near the center of the yard. A sign on the door read “Jerra Varn, Chief Mechanic” in three different languages.

He knocked once, firmly.

“It’s open,” called a gruff voice from inside.

He entered to find a small, stocky Veskari female bent over a schematic. Her scaled skin gleamed under the office lights, and her vertical-pupiled yellow eyes narrowed when she looked up at him.

“Captain Thraxar,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Jerra.” He inclined his head in greeting. They’d known each other for several years, and she’d done repairs on his ship before.

“Your ship need work?” She wiped her hands on her already grease-stained coveralls.

“No. I am looking for work.”

That got her full attention. She straightened, looking him up and down. “You’re a ship captain.”

“I am also a skilled mechanic.”

“Since when?”

“Since always. How do you think I kept my ship running all these years?”

She snorted. “Fair point. But you’ve never struck me as the settling-down type.”

His tail twitched. “Circumstances change.”

“Hmm.” Jerra tapped a claw against the desk. “I am short-handed. Lost two mechanics last month to better offers on the central worlds.”

“I believe I could be of assistance. I know drive systems, life support, navigation. Basic weapons systems.”

“And how long are you planning to stay?”

The question gave him pause. He hadn’t thought beyond the immediate future. “I do not know,” he admitted. “But I’m not looking to leave anytime soon.”

Jerra’s eyes narrowed further. “This have anything to do with that female I heard about?”

He immediately stiffened. “My personal affairs are not relevant.”

“They are if they affect your reliability.” She crossed her arms. “I need someone who’s going to stick around, not cut and run when things get complicated.”

“I do not run from complications.”

“No? Then why have you run a solitary trading route for all these years?”

The barb hit closer to home than he cared to admit. He’d spent years avoiding entanglements, moving from port to port, never staying long enough to form connections.

“That was different,” he said finally.

“Was it?” Jerra studied him for a long moment. “Look, I’ve got nothing against you finding whatever passes for happiness in that cold-blooded heart of yours. But I need to know if I hire you, you’re not going to disappear the moment things get tough.”

He thought of Kara’s face when he’d suggested staying planetside. Of Rory’s hand in his. Of Talia’s cautious trust.

“I am not going anywhere,” he said, and was surprised by how certain he felt.

Jerra sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you a trial period. Two weeks. If you work out, we’ll talk about something more permanent.”

“Acceptable.”

“Pay’s standard rate for skilled mechanics. Hours can be long when we’ve got a rush job.”

“Understood.”

She pushed a data pad across the desk. “Fill this out. You can start tomorrow.”

As he entered his information, Jerra watched him with undisguised curiosity.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” she muttered. “The great solitary warrior, settling down.”

He ignored her, focusing on the form.

“She must be something special, this female of yours.”

His hand paused over the pad. “She is.”

“And there are children?”

He looked up sharply. “How did you?—”

“This is a small port. Word gets around.” Jerra’s expression softened slightly. “Kids need stability.”

“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “They do.”

When he finished the form and slid it back across the desk, Jerra picked it up and glanced over it.

“Looks in order.” She stood and extended her hand. “Welcome aboard, Thraxar.”

He clasped her hand briefly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned, but there was a hint of humor in her voice. “You might hate it here.”

As Thraxar left the shipyard, he considered her words. Hate it here? With Kara and the children? The thought seemed absurd.

For the first time in years, he was moving towards something instead of away from it. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

He stopped by the settlement’s housing office before returning to his ship. The options were limited but adequate—a small dwelling on the outskirts of town with a modest garden plot. Available immediately.

He put down a deposit without hesitation.

As he walked back to his ship, he found himself noticing details he’d overlooked before. The quality of the light on this world. The temperate climate. The safety of a settled planet with regular Patrol presence.

A good place for children to grow.

A good place to build a life.

The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it filled him with a quiet determination.

He’d failed his family once before. He wouldn’t fail this one.