Page 66 of Trove’s Purpose

“Go ahead and do it then,” he said, almost happily. This didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like relief.

One of the shadows melted out of the others. An intimidating figure that almost seemed to materialize out of nothing.

The Bloody Shadow was a s’skree male, all gray skinned with a head of quills sticking straight up, sharp and dangerous. His expression was stoic and unmoving. Uncaring.

“So it’s to be torture first then?” Kirvan asked, unconcerned. “Do your worst.”

The Shadow tilted his head. “You’re awfully eager for death.”

“I’m certainly not going to miss this life,” Kirvan chuckled.

“What if I could give you more to live for?” He offered his hand. “I need a weapon’s expert. Someone I can trust not to point them at my back.”

Kirvan snorted. “And you came to me? Bold choice, friend. I’ve betrayed everyone I’ve ever worked with.”

“That’s because they didn’t have your loyalty. That’s what I want.”

Kirvan just grinned. Because they both knew he could swear his loyalty to him right now and it would be about as meaningful as the shit filled streets down below.

“What if I promised that no one would ever again touch you without your permission?” He asked. “If I promised that your body is your own, no one else’s, and that anyone who violated that would meet their deaths by my hands?”

Kirvan made a sound of understanding. “Ah. I see what this is. Look, I’m flattered, but I’m a females only kind of male. There’s nothing I could do for you. Wouldn’t know how to stroke a cock if you put one in my hands and gave instructions.”

“I don’t want you. They don’t want you either.” He gestured with his head at the others. “I need your expertise. No one else could have built that blaster, or those weapons on your hips. It’s your skills I require. Your weapon skills.”

Kirvan stared at him then, surprised. “My weapon…? That’s not really anything worth… What?”

“You’re good. No, you’re more than good. You’re incredible. I want that. Not you. Your skills. I’m willing to pay you for them. And as it happens, I do have a ship to sell you.”

This male, this Bloody Shadow of nightmares, then outlined his plan for escaping Rik-Vane. No one escaped Rik-Vane. But he had a whole plan. More than that, he had a crew he was gathering. And the only thing he wanted Kirvan for was his weapons specialty.

That was it. Nothing else.

No one had ever admired Kirvan’s other skills before, much less sought them out. It made it very hard to resist the call.

No, it made it impossible.

***

It was the first time in a long time that Trove woke from a dream of his past without screams ringing in his ears. Sure, they were there, a constant feature in the back of his head, but that memory of Tanin recruiting him was a pleasant one. Despite everything, he looked back on that moment fondly, though he had never really dreamed of it before.

Maybe talking with Chee about it had brought those times back to the forefront of his mind. He liked it. He wished all his dreams were this nice.

Though it was still early, he got up and got dressed.

They were going back to see Rinnicks today to give her their answer. Though they knew what it would be almost immediately afterwards, they’d waited a couple days before making the appointment to give their response. Partially to let the females enjoy Heava Yu more without the impending thought that they needed to leave on the next part of their job, but also to just keep her waiting.

Coming back too quickly might make her think they weren’t sure of their answer. Or that her offer had scared them off. By taking their time, by stringing her out, they proved that her show of power hadn’t motivated them in either direction.

They moved on their own time, and, for them, letting Chee and the others enjoy the beaches and the restaurants and the dancing had been more important.

Trove just wanted this to be over with now, though. Because these last couple of days with Chee had been incredibly, wonderfully, normal.

There was nothing romantic between them. He didn’t know if he’d call them super friendly. But they had normal conversations. Simple, surface level, but peaceful and without pain. She didn’t walk away from him crying; he wasn’t kept awake from guilt.

There was an obvious weight between them. One that neither of them was addressing. It was like a heavy box that they were hauling around, never talking about but unable to leave behind. A topic, a past, a knowing they weren’t acknowledging.

They would have to, he knew. It wasn’t a box that they were going to have the benefit of ignoring forever. Eventually, unfortunately, this vacation would end, and they would have to unpack everything stowed away inside.