41

Since Elenya had no idea where she was headed, Sean transited with her. He was concerned about her on many levels. Her hand had the limpness of wax. Her eyes were not blank, just hollow. Like she had lost some ability to hide the void she now carried inside.

And it was all his fault.

As soon as they arrived, Elenya took a long look around and declared, “This is the central station on Cyrius.”

“You’ve been here?”

“Never. But the station is famous.” Her tone was as hollow as her gaze. “They use it as a selling point for their gravity modulators.”

“The doctor’s name is Sandrine. Tell her as little or—”

“I know what to do.” She started away.

Sean watched as the crowd swallowed her, until not even the white-blonde hair was visible. Then he transited back to the loft.

Sean spent the next hour and a half pacing. Dillon’s company was about as welcoming as a Taser. He sat at the dining room table. Every time Sean came into view, Dillon zapped him again. Doing what Elenya wouldn’t.

Sean wanted to be there when she returned. But if he stayed around, he and his brother risked another battle, only this time they’d tear apart their only home. So he tumbled down the stairs and out the door and onto the front lawn.

The day was summertime close, hot and so humid the temperature was just a theoretical number. Clouds blanketed the sky and pressed down hard. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, a deeply discontented growl. Even the weather was angry with him.

He came around the edge of the garage, then drew back before he was spotted. John Havilland sat alone at the patio table. Which probably meant it was either Saturday or Sunday, Sean had no idea. He risked another glance. The professor’s face was creased with such agony, the sight reached across the distance and squeezed Sean’s heart. Carey was nowhere to be seen. John clearly thought he was alone and could release his sorrow, just for an instant. Breathe the loss in and out. The professor’s gaze came to rest on one of the cast-iron pots that anchored the patio’s corners and held miniature fruit trees. His gasping, shuddering breath was audible across the distance.

Sean did not need to dialogue with the older man. He knew exactly what he was seeing.

Here before him was the price of love.

The risk of getting it wrong was so huge. Sean was definitely too young. The timing was just awful. Events and risks crowded in from every side. He had every reason to do as he had and put her off.

Sean turned and looked down the drive, out to where it connected with the road. And the road to the highway that would take him to the alternative.

His parents moving into separate apartments had not really changed anything. They had been alone for years. That was what scared him the most. How he had been surrounded all his life by wrong moves.

Sean started back up the stairs. He was pressured on all sides by a thousand choices.

But only one of them was right.

As soon as he came into view, Dillon seemed unable to hold it in any longer. He lashed out, “You’re crazy. She’s beautiful. She’s smarter than you, and you’re the smartest guy I’ve ever known. How could you be such an idiot?”

Sean shuddered his own way through a hard breath. Nodded to the floor at his feet.

“How could . . . You let her down! I don’t know what you said and I don’t want to know.”

Sean just stood and nodded. Took it because he deserved it.

Dillon sent his chair crashing back. “Are you so desperate you can’t wait to wind up like Mom and Dad?”

Sean shook his head. No.

“She’s come into your life now. You need to act now.”

Sean remained as he was. Beaten into submission by the truth.

The absence of a foe must have defeated Dillon. He headed for the stairs, knocking Sean hard with his shoulder as he passed. He was midway down the stairs when he stopped and said, “You make it up to her. I mean it, Sean. Either you square it with Elenya or . . .”

The truth in his words lingered long after Dillon left. Smoldering hot as guilt.

An hour later, Elenya appeared in silence. Her emotions formed a luminescence around her. Perhaps it was just his own internal response, Sean seeing her through the lens of an open heart. But he didn’t think so. The aura was too powerful for that. This was part of her, a hint of the same strength that granted her the ability to tell her family no. To declare her affections and intentions. Even when it cost her . . .

Everything.

He stepped in front of her and stood without reaching, though he wanted to. He felt his tone was as formal as a courtier’s bow. It was what she deserved. “I was wrong, Elenya. I should have said what you needed to hear. I should have done it without hesitation. I’m sorry.”

Elenya released a tear. Another. She wiped her face. “I never cry.”

“And I’ve made you do it twice in one day. My heart is wrenched by the sight. And by the beauty. I am filled with a regret as strong as pain.” He was normally not so eloquent. It would be wrong to say Serenese was made for poetic remorse. But it definitely came easier. “If you will let me, I would like to do now what I should have done this morning. I want to commit, Elenya.”

Another tear slipped out and fell, sparkling like a gemstone. “Why didn’t you before?”

“I have any number of reasons. But none of them matter. Or rather, none of them matter enough.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I’m under intense pressure to save the Examiner from a punishment he doesn’t deserve. His trial is starting in a couple of days.”

“That is one.”

“I have no experience at love. Failed love, yes. A hopeless and empty home life, years of that. Dillon and I were raised around two people living unhappy lives together. That’s all I knew growing up.”

“We can study.”

“No, Elenya. You will have to teach me.”

She reached one hand out, then retreated. She walked over and seated herself at their little table. Sean hesitated, then joined her. She sat there a moment, looking deep into his gaze. Another tear spilled down her right cheek. Sean feared his heart would break.

Then she set one hand upon the tabletop, palm up. He settled his hand upon hers and found the strength to breathe again. She looked down, and the shift in her gaze released one more tear. “You have small hands.”

“Do I?”

“For such a big man. Yes. And a delicate touch.” She linked her fingers through his. “Your hands are a trace smaller than your brother’s.”

“That’s right. They are.”

She looked up, though it was hard for him to meet her gaze and see the unshed tears gathered along the rims. “There’s a faint hint of gold to your green eyes. Dillon doesn’t have that either. His eyes are a shade darker.”

“No one has noticed that before.”

“Your features are slightly sharper. More carefully defined. His are . . .”

“Stronger.”

“Physically, yes.”

“He is the warrior.”

“The officer,” she corrected. “He will never be the common soldier. Not even among the Praetorians.”

“He’ll love hearing you say that.”

She reached out with her free hand and traced a finger along the edge of his chin. “Your face holds a keener intelligence.” She moved upward. “Your hair does not grow as far down your temples and forehead. You may go bald.”

“I’d hate that.”

“Then we will find a way to stop it.” She continued her inspection. “You have two lines across your forehead, very faint, but they run the breadth of your eyebrows. They are marks of concentration. And worry. Dillon has none.” She touched his lips. “Your smile is slightly canted, pulled to one side just a trace by all you carry.”

She let her hand fall to the table. He reached over and took hold of this one as well. He breathed in and out. She breathed with him. They sat there for a few minutes, an eon of healing quiet.

Then Dillon thumped up the stairs and came into view. He inspected them a moment, then said, “So you’re good.”

Elenya answered quietly, “Yes, Dillon. We are good.”

“Did he apologize?”

“He did, yes.”

“Because if you want him to say something more, just give me the word. I’ll . . .” Dillon stopped as Elenya rose from the table and walked over.

She reached around him and held him tightly. Just for an instant. But long enough for Dillon’s face to change. Sean saw the flicker come and go, swift as Carver’s smile. Dillon looked across the room at him, the anger gone now. Totally vanished.

Sean said, “I guess we better get to work.”