“Dellian, you got attacked by a beast. That’s not fine.”
He grinned. “But I fought it and killed it. We won. That’s what matters.”
“I suppose so. Yes.” She came over to stand in front of him, and for the first time Dellian felt strangely resentful she was so tall. He didn’t want to have to tilt his head back just so he could look at her wide, enchanting face.
Her hand reached out and stroked his sleeve where the morox claws had sliced his arm. “Take your shirt off,” she said quietly. “I want to see.”
Dellian undid the buttons and slipped out of the shirt. He had no idea why, but standing in front of her bare-chested, he felt strangely vulnerable. His cohort were peering around their den door. He turned his hand, palm outward, banishing them.
Yirella’s fingertip stroked down the streaks of pale skin where the medical skin had been. “No freckles,” she said sadly.
“They’ll come back.” He paused, uncertain. “Did you say…?”
“Yes. I like your freckles.”
“I wasn’t sure if that was real,” he said. “Those sedatives they gave me when we got back were quite something.”
“That was real,” she said. “The second most real thing about it.”
“Second? What was the first?”
She smiled and tipped her head forward so their noses touched. Her wild hair tickled his cheeks. “The cougar.”
“Oh. Right. Saints, that thing frightened me!”
“You put yourself in front of me,” she said huskily. “To protect me.”
Fingers stroked his chest muscles. Dellian couldn’t believe how such a delicate touch could light lines of fire across his skin. “I had to,” he confessed. “I couldn’t let it hurt you. Not you.”
“That’s the second time you’ve done that.”
The side of his mouth lifted in a fond smile. “The arena match against the Ansaru team. Yeah! I remember. We were, what? Thirteen?”
“Twelve.”
“Saints, we’re old now, aren’t we?”
Yirella kissed him. “Which room is your bedroom?”
—
“About time” was the most common remark among their yearmates.
They didn’t quite move in with each other, not like Orellt and Mallot, and a few of the other boys who were finally pairing up. But they certainly spent each night together. Some meals were taken in the dining room with their friends—after spending their entire lifetime in the company of everyone, no one wanted to be isolated. But they did take breakfast and sometimes dinner with each other in the solitude of a bungalow.
Combat training was kept to a minimum while the booster program was implemented. No one was surprised when Janc volunteered to be first.
“I hate it,” Yirella exclaimed on their third night. They’d finished dinner and moved outside to sit on the terrace while the sun dropped out of the sky. The bungalow was playing some music recorded on Earth thousands of years ago. Yirella liked having music available. Back in the dorm it hadn’t been particularly popular—at least not the quieter, more melodic tracks she always chose.
“Hate what?” Dellian asked in surprise.
“Boosting. They’re changing us. We have no control.”
“We do. Alexandre said; we don’t have to do this.” He poured the last of the beer into their glasses.
“And if we don’t? If we don’t go out there and fight, what do we do? Stay on Juloss? Because there’s so much opportunity available here, isn’t there?”
“Not everyone is going to be part of the war effort.”
“Yeah, I can join the remotes scrubbing the decks on board our battleship.”
He reached out and gripped her hand. “I hate it when you’re this unhappy.”
“This is not me being miserable. This is me being angry.”
“Okay. Angry is scary.”
She grinned weakly and took another sip of the beer. “I just hate that we can’t control our lives, not really. I know we don’t have to go to war, but, come on, what is there for us here? Everyone on Juloss is going to leave when the youngest yeargroup finishes their training and gets boosted. I don’t know about you, but I can’t see myself staying behind and waiting for the enemy to arrive. And they always do, you know. They go through any star system we settle like a plague, destroying everything.”
“I know.” He stared out at the dark trees at the end of the garden, where colorful birds were settling for the night. “So you will come with us? The boys need you.
“Of course I’m coming with you. I’m no martyr, waiting out in the jungle by myself for the enemy to finally find Juloss—if they ever do. And I will not let you down. Remember? But we’re not a yeargroup anymore, are we? Not just a team playing tournaments against the other clans. You and the boys are becoming a proper military squad.”
“For now. After the war, we can live how we want.”
“If we win.”
Dellian gave her a shocked look, but she seemed very earnest. “We’ll win. We have the Saints on our side.”
For a moment it looked like she might argue. But in the end she raised her glass to him. “That we do.”
—