Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(42)

And we are safe.

For now.

“They’re hailing us again,” Aurora murmurs.

I glance to my father. He is watching Aurora like a hawk now as she focuses her gaze and shifts her fingers. The image projected in the room’s heart shimmers, and again, I see the war-worn face of Tyler Jones.

My chest might normally ache at the sight of him—the marks the cruel hands of time have left on my friend’s skin. But I am more interested in my father now, studying Aurora like a drakkan with its prey. She is learning the workings of the ship quickly—she was made for this task, just as he was. Both Triggers of the Eshvaren. Both able to wield this Weapon, for good or ill. And looking into his eyes, one of them now softly aglow, I know she is in danger.

Caersan will tolerate no rival for this throne.

“You two all right?” Tyler asks.

“We are well, Brother,” I tell him, my eyes not shifting from my father. “We thank you for your aid.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tyler growls. “Every member of my command staff is telling me I need my head examined. You’d better get your asses over here and bring a damn good explanation with you. Because in all honesty, I’m about halfway convinced to leave you for the Weeds.” He leans forward, glowering. “By the way, the invitation doesn’t extend to that mass-murdering psychopath sitting behind you. Because if I lay eyes on him in the flesh, I’m gonna blow his fucking brains all over the floor.”

My father raises one eyebrow, and yawns.

“Vindicator, out.”

? ? ? ? ?

We walk down to the docking bay together, and on the way Aurora pauses at the place she left her boots when she first entered the Neridaa. She is still for a moment, toes curling and flexing against the crystal as though she is loath to break contact with it, and then with a sigh, she sits down to pull on her socks and lace up her boots.

“Probably impractical to go to a war council barefoot,” she says, with a small, rueful smile that tugs at my heart.

This moment is such a small one, so simple, so domestic. But it summons a thousand others we spent together in our half year inside the Echo. It reminds me of all the ways in which we learned to fit together, day by day. And so I am reminded that although she is impossibly powerful, and although we are in a galaxy made of nothing but death, she is still the girl I know. I still have riches beyond counting, because I have her.

Tyler will not, of course, dock with the Eshvaren ship, and so Aurora takes us to meet the Vindicator, carrying us out into the void.

I am not wearing a suit or helmet, just the black armor of an Unbroken warrior—I would normally freeze and suffocate out here. But a warm nimbus of light plays over Aurora’s skin, engulfing me as she takes my hand, carrying us through the empty dark with only the power of her mind.

Her right eye is aglow, and I find myself in awe of how far she has journeyed. How strong she has become. Her face is almost ecstatic as we traverse the Void together, her lips gently curled. But still, I see that faint webwork of scars about her eye, picture the same cracks in my father’s face, deeper, darker. I wonder at the toll all this is taking on her.

The price she might pay in the end.

“You are beautiful,” I tell her, as we soar together through the black.

My heart aches at her smile. “Not so bad yourself.”

“I am … sorry, Aurora. For lying to you. About who I am.”

Her smile fades a breath, and she glances back toward the Neridaa. The ship hangs in the dark behind us—colossal and beautiful, all the colors of the spectrum. But I can see scars torn down its flanks from the Ra’haam attack now. And I can feel the shadow lurking in its heart.

“It hurt that you couldn’t tell me the truth, Kal.” She squeezes my hand. “But now I’ve met him, I understand why you’d rather your father be dead.”

“He gave me life,” I say, looking down at our entwined fingers. “And I sought to take his in return. I tried to put a knife in his back.”

“He’s a monster, Kal. He murdered a whole world.”

“I know it.” I shake my head and sigh. “But it should not be this way.”

She holds my hand tighter, looks me in the eyes.

“I understand. I’m with you. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

She kisses me, brief and soft, and out in this infinity, we are totally alone, and totally complete. And despite everything, the struggle, the hurt, the loss, a part of me still cannot believe this girl is mine.

Aurora brings us across the span of nothing between the Neridaa and Tyler’s ship. Drawing close, I can see the Vindicator has been through many battles, held together with spotwelds and prayers. We glide into the fighter launch bays, and Aurora brings us through the secondary airlock. The aura she has thrown around us fades as the chamber pressurizes, oxygen hissing into the compartment. Gravity slowly returns, Aurora’s hair drifting downward, the white streak settling over the dying glow in her eye.

The hatchway cycles open, and we see the gremp from Tyler’s bridge crew waiting, one clawed hand on the pistol at her waist. She wears a battered spacesuit, and through the plexiglass of her sealed helmet, I can see her black fur and the spot of white over her left eye. A toothpick of what might be humanoid bone hangs from one corner of her mouth.

Beside her stands the Rikerite—another female, by the look. She is taller even than I, horns sweeping back from a heavy brow. Her arms are thick as my thighs, her shoulders impressively broad. The heavy pulse rifle she carries is aimed vaguely in our direction, and she wears an old sealed combat suit.