Page 18 of Stars in Nova

Kisan knelt before the boy, his towering frame folding with surprising gentleness. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, his eyes raking the young child.

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on Kisan.

He didn’t speak, but the bundle in his arms rustled. The Rider reached out, peeling back the fabric to reveal a small, injured animal—a desert hopper, its delicate wings trembling.

Its feathers, lined with pure silver, purple, and gold strands, shimmered under the bright twin sun rays.

‘You risked your life for this?’ Kisan rasped, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The lad nodded. ‘It was alone, fell from a roofline. I picked it up, but they wanted to take it away and sell it, but I think it’s hurt.’

The Rider assessed the boy and creature. ‘It does look like it’s broken a wing, young one. Good pick up.’

‘Sante,for helping us,’ came a husky whisper behind him.

He turned, his luminous green eyes landing on the woman who’d protected the child.

Kisan’s breath hitched.

It washer—the dancer from the water show.

She was breathtaking.

Her dark hair shimmered in the artificial sunlight filtering through the dome above, cascading over her shoulders like waves of night.

She wore a flowing garment and a shawl over her tresses.

Her dress clung to her lithe frame. It was elegant, and its fabric shimmered with light.

He sucked his teeth, recalling how she’d snatched his oxygen away, stolen his attention with each fluid motion, every enchanting leap over the glowing lake.

‘You,’ he growled, his usual composure faltering.

She arched a brow, her lips curling into a smile. ‘You remember me.’

Kisan blinked, lost for words.

‘I didn’t expect to find you here,’ he managed, his rasp steadier now. ‘You’re Samira.’

Her beam widened. ‘You’re Kisan.’

He threw his head back, surprised. ‘You know my name.’

‘Everyone knows who you are.’

The statement jolted him more than he expected.

Naam, most did know who he was—Ankis, the plunderer, the pillager.

He wondered if that was her assessment if she regarded him as the others did—a reformed monster.

He searched her expression for judgment, but her silver and gold eyes possessed only warmth.

A pang lurched deep in his chest, a swirl of need. Wanting, craving, to be seen for more than his sins.

She stepped past him, crouching beside the boy, who clutched the injured creature.

‘Shall we find someplace to keep the hopper safe?’ she asked, her dulcet alto soothing, touching the bundle the child held.

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