A sawing—metal against metal—jerks me from my thoughts. Emery wakes from her nap and stares at me with confusion in her eyes.
“I need more time,” I grumble, running my fingers through my short, unruly hair and tugging.
“You don’t have much of it,” Sayer tells me out of thin air, making Emery jolt in surprise.
“It is just Sayer,” I assure her. “He is trying to…actually, I am unsure what it is he is trying to do aside from annoy me out of my rekking nog.”
“Good solar, Emery,” Sayer greets her.
“Eh, hello,” she whispers back.
“Are you well?” he inquires. “Calix isn’t hurting you?”
“Mortarekk—”
She cuts me off as she replies sharply. “I am fine. Leave us be.”
“Very well,” he says with a sigh and then says no more.
She reaches out her hand and I abandon my chair to prowl over to her. I kneel beside her and hold her cold, weak hand in mine. Tears well in her pretty blue eyes—tears I want to lick away. Instead, I watch them cascade down her pale cheeks. I pull her palm to my cheek to warm it against my flesh.
“I don’t want them to get in,” she rasps through her mask.
I turn and inhale her scent from her hand. “I will do everything in my power to keep them out until I can heal you.”
More tears roll from her eyes. “This isn’t something that can be healed in a few hours, Calix. I’m not sure it can ever be healed.” She makes a sad, choked sound. “I can feel it. I’m going to die here.”
A growl rumbles through me and I shake my nog. “You will not die,” I assure her even though my words sound like lies. “I will not let you.”
Her fingertips flutter against my cheekbone. “It’s not your choice. There was a design—by a higher being—and I’m being erased from it.”
I do not understand her words, but I feel them in my bones. I do not like them. So final and sure. As though she does not think she belongs breathing the same air as everyone else. As though her time was always limited.
I’ll give her all the time I can, even if it is the last thing I do.
I can hear Breccan calling to me over Oz’s work, but I ignore him. My focus is on healing her and keeping her comfortable. Releasing her, I make my way over to the refrigeration unit. Often, when immersed in work, I will stay locked away and never make it to the nutrition bay. I keep some rations here for those times. Pulling out a bowl of dried vin-fruit—a sweet delicacy we were rewarded on one of Galen’s most recent successful harvests—I make my way back over to Emery. The morsels are round and wrinkly. The vin-fruit was fascinating to watch grow in the lab. Vines overgrew the containers they were planted in and tiny balls filled with orange-colored juice grew all over. They are bitter eaten right from the vine, but when you pluck them and let them dry out, they wrinkle up and become sweet. Galen claims they are packed with important nutrients, but they taste too lovely to be good for you. His bitter green bunches certainly are not tasty and they are incredibly nutritious.
“Eat,” I instruct, resting the bowl beside Emery. I pull away the oxygen mask to let it hang around her neck and pluck a vin-fruit from the bowl. Obediently, she parts her bluish plump lips and accepts the nutrients I’m offering.
“I like these,” she says, a smile ghosting her lips. “Great idea for a last meal.”
I scowl at her. “It is the first of many.”
Her eyes grow soft at my words. “Thank you for trying.”
I nod my nog at her and offer her more morsels. She eats them all and then eyes the bowl with longing.
“I will procure more later. For now, get some rest,” I say as I pull the mask back over her mouth and nose.
She frowns. “What will you eat?”
“I am not hungry. My studies await me.”
I start to pull away, but she takes my hand. Her hand squeezes mine tightly. We share a long stare before I reluctantly pull away from her. The sawing outside the door has intensified. I rise to my feet and stalk over to where they’re working.
“Go away,” I bark at them.
Commander bares his double fangs at me. “Open the rekking door, Calix.”
“Let me work in peace. I am trying to help her,” I bite out.
With a door between us, it is easy to not cower under his domineering glare. Perhaps the desire to protect my mate overshadows all senses.
“We can help her together. Locking her away solves nothing,” he says, his voice not as harsh.
“She is frightened of you all.”
“That is why she belongs with Aria for the time being.” His eyes drift past me. “Have you…touched her?”