Page 64 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

“It’s hardly begun. There’s a vast universe out there. Run away with me.” He sank to one knee, clasping her hand.

“Aral, what are you doing?”

“Because I didn’t ask the first time—Wren, will you be my wife?”

Tears stung her eyes—and even his looked suspiciously moist. “You finally decided to make this legal, eh?” They laughed, teary-eyed. “Yes, Aral,” she said. “Yes. Forever.”

In a palace long ago, a handsome young cadet seemed to say:We’ll find a way out.

In a palace ten years later, it seemed they finally did.

* * *

Aral met Kaz on the flight deck to bid her farewell for now. He walked with her as she did her last inspection of theResiliencebefore leaving for parts unknown. “You’ve seen better days.” Kaz ran a hand over the repaired sections of the dented, charred hull and the replacement thermal shield.

“Haven’t we all?” Aral said.

She smiled. “It’s almost as good as new. Of course, a share of fifty million queens goes a long way toward buying the services of skilled mechanics.” She shrugged, moving along the underside of the huge wing before inspecting the leading edge.

“Bolivarr said he spent some time alone with you.”

“Aye. He did.” Her gaze softened. “We’re good now. He’s quite in love with Hadley, and I’m happy for him. She’ll be good for him.”

She peeked under the fuselage, rapping a panel with her knuckles.

“This is what you really want to do, Kaz? Head out on your own?”

“Why not? Adventure, unexplored worlds. New people.”

“You don’t like people,” he said.

“Sometimes I do. Interesting ones.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Look, Mawndarr. When one doesn’t move on with life, it’s waiting. Those were my words, one of my many sayings, eh? It’s time I put them into practice. Besides, I always had you and Bolivarr to lean on. It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet. Time for me to grow up.”

He laughed. “You always were the most mature of all of us.”

“No, Aral. You were. And the bravest. You took the punches for us. You never once complained about it.”

He pressed his lips together, not wanting to think of dark times. “Admiral Bandar said the Triad Alliance will give you sub-admiral rank if you stay in the service. And a ship of your own to command.”

“I loved serving at your side, Aral. I’m proud of my career, and I’m grateful for the offer, but this is what I want to do for now.”

“It’s a worthy endeavor—and one very much needed.”

Kaz was off to hunt down stolen artifacts and return them to their rightful owners. Ara Ana was but one treasure left behind when the galaxy had split in two. Items of unimaginable value, both cultural and concrete, had been illegally sold into private collections, dribbled into the chaos of the postwar black market a little at a time. Sister Chara had complained of relics ending up in private collections, illegal museums, and even on one blasted arrogant loyalist’s yacht. The Triad had agreed to pay Kaz a percentage of any recovered items, but Aral knew she was in it for vengeance, not profit.

“Worthy, aye.” Straightening, she wiped her hands on a rag before neatly folding and stowing it in the calf pocket of her flight pants. “Best of all, it gives me the chance to get my hands dirty policing loyalist scum. Up close and personal.”

“I’m beginning to think they’ll have more to fear with you in this new role than on the bridge of theBlood Run.”

Her red lips curved. “Exactly.”

They walked to the gangway.

“Be sure to call us,” he said.

“I will, Aral. You and Wren do the same.”

“I’ll miss you. My annoying little sister.”

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