S.J.Kincaid

“From within stars! Think of it.” She stretched her arm up above us, marveling at it. “Every single bit of us comes from this process called nuclear fusion that only happens inside stars.” She stifled a yawn. “Strange to even think of it. We are all of us but stardust shaped into a conscious being. The Helionics and the old scientists really do agree, even if no one realizes it.”

“What manner of person are you? I don’t know you.”

“Nemesis, you are absolutely extraordinary. I had braced myself for imminent death, and there you exploded upon us like some avenging angel . . .” His voice caught. “I have grown used to the idea that human beings die or they betray and I could only rely on myself, but that’s not true anymore. I feel I can trust you. That may seem so small an admission”—his eyes grew shadowed, his voice hoarse—“but from me, it is the greatest compliment I can ever give.”

“And now, I’ve agreed to yoke myself to the wife of my grandmother’s choosing. I have made many sacrifices. This one, I will not make. I will not sacrifice your life, and neither will you!” He stepped into my path, then reached up and clasped my cheeks, his eyes desperate. “You gave up your life for me. I can’t let you do that again. I couldn’t bear it if you did that!”

“Sacrifices?” Tyrus cried. “I’ve already made sacrifices. Don’t tell me I don’t understand making sacrifices.” He raked his hands through his hair over and over. “I sacrificed years to pretend madness. I sacrificed my need for vengeance in order to survive long enough to make changes that mattered in the greater scheme of things. I know sacrifice!”

“You speak to me as though I’m a person, and then you turn around and assume I’m utterly devoid of feeling! Which is it to be, Tyrus? Is it so incomprehensible to you that I could care about your well-being? That I could—”

I caught myself, horrified.

His fingers dug into my skin. “That you could what? That you could what, Nemesis?”

My throat felt like a knot. I couldn’t speak. Those treacherous syllables wanted to escape my lips.

That I could love you.

The words felt dragged out of me. “I spoke . . . wrongly on the ship.”

His thumb stroked over my lip, his eyes glowing. “So you do feel. Can it be possible you care for me the way I care for you?”

My eyes shot up to his, the memory of his lips on mine in the decompression closet searing through my mind.

“You still do?” I whispered.

“I never stopped. I will never stop.”

Fear coiled up within me, but I would not be a coward. Not this time

He’d said they dissolved. They never had. They’d been there all along.

He’d never trusted me.

“I did this for you. This was all for you. The universe may deliver itself into my possession, and I’ll still feel as though I’ve lost everything without you by my side. I am madly in love with you, and I hope to all the stars you still feel something for me.”

Tyrus was a finicky eater.