Page 19 of Willow and the Wraith

“Here,” she said gently. “Just in case you get thirsty.”

His eyes flickered to the mug, then back to her face, tilting his head as he studied her.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding strangely hesitant.

A strand of his dark purple hair had fallen across his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. Impulsively she reached out and tucked it behind his ear, the errant lock cool and silky beneath her fingers.

He stiffened at her touch, his head snapping up to look at her, his eyes burning with that purple fire again. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t back away.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “It was in your eyes.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded and turned back to his studies. She turned and left on unexpectedly shaky legs.

He spent the next day tucked away in the cockpit as well. After a long debate with herself, she made him another mug of tea and took it to him. She put it down next to him, then hesitated.

“Mind if I join you?”

He glanced up, his expression unreadable. “If you wish.”

She settled into the co-pilot’s chair, her heart racing at their proximity.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” she asked gently. “I’d like to know more about you.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said flatly.

“I don’t believe that. Everyone has a story.”

His jaw tightened and she thought she’d pushed him too far, but then he sighed.

“I told you, I don’t remember my past. My first clear memory is waking up in a cell on one of the trading stations where they auction slaves. I was ten - perhaps eleven.”

Ten? She was momentarily speechless, horror washing over her.

“Oh my god,” she finally said. “I don’t even know what to say. That’s… horrible.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but she saw his fist clench on the controls.

“That was the start of my education,” he added in a deliberately casual voice. “Learning how to fight, how to survive. By the time I escaped, I was old enough to begin my own trade.”

“And you became a bounty hunter. But if you were a slave, how did you learn to pilot a ship?”

“My last master was a pilot. I paid attention.” He looked at her, his face hard. “I took the ship when I killed him.”

There was a note of defiance in his voice, as if he expected her to criticize him, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to do so.

“Was it… this ship?”

“Gods, no. That was a very long time ago and it wasn’t much of a ship. But it allowed me to track down something that had been stolen - and that was the start.”

“I’m sorry for being nosy. I know it must be painful for you to talk about your past.”

“It doesn’t matter. As I said, it was a long time ago and I don’t remember much anyway.”

“Still,” she murmured. She reached out instinctively, then hesitated before lightly touching his arm. “It must have been hard.”

He stiffened at her touch, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, Willow thought she saw a flicker of vulnerability in those purple depths.

“It was a long time ago,” he repeated, but her heart ached for him.

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