Page 126 of Shadows of Stardust

It’s everything, all of it, and though I’ve never thought myself a sentimental creature, I find myself now desperately trying to remember every little detail. Even the details of these last few days, as difficult as they’ve been.

Roslyn has been doing an admirable job of pretending.

For the cameras, she performs. For Sella, she’s ready to take instruction and hit her marks. For the rest of the contestants on the beach—save Juni, perhaps—she’s flawless in her portrayal of a woman in love, caught up in a whirlwind romance.

For me, she doesn’t have to keep up the act.

It’s unspoken, this agreement between us, this understanding that as soon as the door to the bungalow closes, whatever she needs to be, she can be.

Whether that means retreating to bed for some silence and solitude, or lounging with me in the hammock on the frontporch. Whether she’s putting on a brave face or trusting me with the tears that fall freely when she talks more about Savannah, about their life on Earth and their days on Severin, I’m here to give her what she needs.

And despite the hollow, broken ache in my chest knowing I’m powerless to change how she’s feeling, I’m also honored.

I’m honored to be the one she trusts to hold her sadness, to sit with her in each quiet moment when she can’t perform, can’t pretend, can’t escape the truths she learned.

But tonight there’s something different in the air.

I can’t put my finger on it, can’t quite understand it, but something between us shifted today on the beach. A heavy pall lifting, a bit of levity and life for our last night in paradise.

Playing with her in the ocean, seeing her shed her defenses, hearing her laugh and basking in the warmth of her smile was a glimpse of an entirely different Roslyn. One more layer to the woman I’ve come to know and admire, a layer I suspect I’d never cease to enjoy exploring.

She’s turned on some music over the sound system in the bungalow—some up-tempo human tunes that make her sway her hips and sing along—and I commit that to memory, too. A small window into the woman she might always be in a different life. The woman I hope she’ll be when she gets where she’s going, when she leaves here and starts her life anew.

My chest twists again. I don’t know where that life will be. She’s mentioned going back to Severin to wrap up her affairs there, and though I hate the idea of it, I can’t exactly express that to her.

I’ll be off on my own next mission, after all, and we’ve been clear from the beginning about when we’d be parting ways.

So this is what we have. One last night here, together.

Time is ticking down, the Choosing waiting for us tomorrow, and fates help me, I can’t say a word to spoil it.

I can’t find it in myself to ask any of the questions that need asking, can’t make myself do anything to rob us of these few final happy hours.

If it’s denial, then I’ll live in this pretty lie for as long as I can.

At least one more night.

“There,” Roslyn says, setting down her makeup brush and meeting my eye in the mirror. “Perfect.”

I’m sure she means the smoky, shimmery cosmetic she’s applied to her eyes, the black coating that makes her lashes even thicker and lusher than usual, the berry-ripe stain on her lips, but that’s not what I’m thinking of at all as I take a step closer to lean down and kiss my reply into the warm, fragrant skin of her neck.

“Yes. Absolutely perfect.”

38

Roslyn

Zan wins the bet.

All throughout the evening, couples have been crumbling. Some amicable, some with tears and dramatics, all of it entirely expected as the producers nudge and winnow down their contestants until only those who will make for the most dramatic Choosings are left.

Those who remain are gathered in and around the pavilion. Drinks flowing, torches burning, an undeniable sense of camaraderie in the air.

For all the squabbles and all the backstabbing, all the flirting and all the broken hearts, there’s also a deep, deep sense of how unserious this all is. How, at the end of the day, we’re all just here to be reality vidcomm stars, and maybe we’ve all done our fair share of acting.

Hatchets are buried, and I even get a brief nod from Ansalla. A silentgood gameas she disappears into the night with the Aventri she ended up with after all her own drama. I can’t say I have any warm and fuzzy feelings after what an ass she’s been to me, but I’m not petty enough to hold on to that grudge.

After tonight, I’ll never see her again.

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