“What now, ah’blena?”

Amara looks out over the impossible expanse of stars and sky, and there are so many places to see, worlds to explore. Carmindor’s Prospero streaks across the sky, on its way to some other destination in the far-off regions of the Federation. With him, a little of her heart leaves, but it leaves room, too.

For new people.

For new loves.

For new impossibilities.

“The universe is wide,” she replies as she turns on her heel, and even in the darkness of the observation deck, Ambrose’s white-gold hair glows like a crown of starlight. “And I have a kingdom to rule.”

Then she snakes her fingers into the buttons between his uniform and pulls him close to her. He quirks a singular golden eyebrow. She reaches up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss against his strong jawline.

He asks, “Where to, Princess?”

“The stars.”

THE END