Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(83)

Any refreshment you require can be yours, the Eshvaren replies.

“Oh great,” my be’shmai says. “And … maybe some furniture or something? It’d be nice to sleep on a blanket and some pillows?”

Any comfort you require can be yours.

“Brilliant,” Aurora smiles.

The Eshvaren remains hovering in silence before us. Long moments tick by with no food or blankets making themselves known. Aurora peers at the apparition, her smooth brow slowly creasing into a frown.

“… Well?” she asks.

All you require can be yours, it says. You need only will it into being.

“… Will it?” Aurora’s frown grows darker.

Yes.

“I can’t even keep myself upright in a basic training exercise,” she says, temper flaring. “You want me to start conjuring things out of thin air?”

I am only a collection of memories, it replies. I do not want anything.

And without another word, the Eshvaren shimmers out of existence.

Aurora glances at me, clearly uncertain. I can see how exhausted she is. How much our brief time here has already cost her. But then I see determination flaring in the depths of her mismatched eyes. She breathes deep, sits up straighter in my arms. Leaning into me like I am a rock in a storm.

And, eyes narrowed in concentration, she holds out her hand.

I feel the faintest tingling on my skin. I sense something vast moving beneath her surface. The air around us feels charged with current, and for the tiniest moment, I think perhaps the air before us ripples. Shimmers. Twists.

But only for a moment.

The current fades. The steel in Aurora’s muscles wilts, her back bows. I can feel her pulse hammering beneath her skin, hear the strain in her voice as she gasps.

“I c-can’t… .”

Breathless, she sinks back into my arms, frustrated and angry. I know what it is to train beyond all limit of endurance, to suffer under a relentless taskmaster. I do not know if I can make it easier. But I try, in some small way, to make it better.

“Take courage, be’shmai,” I tell her. “All is well.”

I kiss her brow.

“We have time.”

Hold her tight.

“And we have each other.”


Aurora

I’m beginning to hate this rock.

No, scratch that. I do hate this rock. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hate it worse than Mr. Parker from fifth grade, who put me in detention for punching Kassandra Lim, even though she was the one who cut off a piece of my hair.

I hate it worse than Kassandra Lim.

The rock and I have been in a standoff for seven days now, and by every available measure, the inanimate object is winning. It sits in the middle of a gorgeous blue-green meadow, sprinkled with tiny pink flowers that give the whole scene a rosy hue. The sky is that same rosy color, and there’s a perfect little stream to the east, shaded by low-hanging trees with purple leaves.

The task I’ve been set should be simple for someone with power like mine. All I have to do is pick up the rock and move it to the other side of the meadow.

But of course I can’t.

My power still doesn’t show up on command like that. And I’ve never really used it to manipulate objects before. I’ve just smashed them around and broken them apart.

Are you ready for another attempt? Esh asks.

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, from between gritted teeth. “It’s definitely going to be the seven millionth time that’s the charm.”

Self-discipline comes slowly, it replies. You continue to make small gains.

I jab a finger in the rock’s direction. “That smug son of a biscuit is sitting exactly where it was a week ago. I haven’t made any gains, large or small.”

You have not kicked it in five days, Esh points out.

“This is getting us nowhere, Esh,” I snap. “At this rate, I’m going to be an old lady, the entire galaxy will be one giant Ra’haam colony, and I still won’t have moved the boulder.”

Time is not in short supply, Esh replies. Though weeks have passed here, little more than an hour has passed from the perception of your crew. Are you ready to begin again?

I draw breath for another retort, then pause. My crew. They’re the reason I’m doing this. Saving the entire galaxy and everyone in it sounds ridiculous. It’s not the sort of thing you can really get your head around. But saving just a few people …

I think of Cat as she slipped away into the Ra’haam. I think of Tyler, dragged off by the TDF. I think of Scarlett, watching her brother get left behind. Of Zila, of Fin, risking everything to protect me. They all have something or someone to lose.

And I think of Kal, of course. Constant, patient, faithful.

When I first understood what the Pull meant, I panicked. Who wouldn’t? But he’s never expected me to feel what he does. In fact, he’s never expected anything of me. He’s only ever offered.

And that’s definitely something worth fighting for.

“All right, Esh,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s move this thing.”

Your optimism is laudable, it replies, flickering out of the way.

I stride up to the rock and clear my mind. Push aside thought and emotion like it told me, keeping only the sense of purpose I feel when I think about protecting the ones I love. I breathe in. I breathe out.