Page 97 of Shadows of Stardust

He’ll know I’m coming for him again, and he’ll know I’ll be smarter about it next time. Wherever he is, I hope he’s burning with it—that dread, that terrible anticipation.

I hope he’s ready for me, because when I get my next chance to expose him and everything he’s done, to dismantle the powerhe’s built on the suffering of innocents, I won’t show him any mercy.

Those happy thoughts carry me through the rest of the afternoon. They keep me company as the sun sinks low behind the distant mountains, until the faint chime of the comms screen by the door announces the incoming hover that will take us to our date.

Dressed in all black evening attire—still fancier than anything I own, but closer to something I might voluntarily choose to wear—I step out onto the porch.

I’m about to head over to Juni’s to fetch my date, when I catch sight of her on the beach.

My heart stutters a beat, and the breath I’ve just taken catches in my chest.

Roslyn’s wearing a dress that looks like starlight. Shifting and shimmering and perfectly tailored to her frame, it plunges deep in the front to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage while still including a pair of loose, flowing sleeves that keep her scars covered.

She carries the hem of the gown in one hand to keep it from dragging in the sand as she approaches, but when she reaches the foot of the stairs, she lets it drop and strikes a pose. She props one hip to the side and rests a hand on it, raises an eyebrow and smirks, like she’s waiting for me to offer some bit of snark.

There couldn’t be anything further from my mind.

I clear my throat to buy myself a few seconds, but it’s a losing effort. All it does is give me more time to admire her.

Roslyn’s hair hangs loose and wavy, save for two braided sections pulled away from her face and fastened at the back of her head so she wears them like a crown. Her eyes are lined with something soft and slightly shimmery, emphasizingtheir emerald sparkle. Her full lips are painted red, lush and delectable.

“You look…” Roslyn starts, some of the bravado in her expression fading as she takes in my attire. “You, uh, clean up good.”

Color creeps up her cheeks and down her neck. Unfortunately, before I can press her to elaborate on exactly how well I clean up, Sella arrives, bright and chipper and beaming at her contestants.

“Alright, you two,” she says. “We’re sending you on a leisure cruise over the jungle. Nice and easy, with some sparkling wine to enjoy and a bit of time for yourselves.”

“That’s it?” Roslyn asks, looking at me like she needs to double-check she heard Sella correctly. “What’s the catch?”

Her suspicion isn’t unfounded. Mate Match is well-known for the outlandish situations they put their contestants in—all in the name of romance, of course.

Scenic hikes that turn into all-day treks through muggy jungle. Up-close encounters with the gigantic insects that call this planet home. Some fatesforsaken activity calledbungee-jumpingthat they swiped from the humans with the rest of the inspiration they took for the show.

In comparison, a peaceful nighttime cruise over the lush Eritin rainforest seems too good to be true.

“No catch,” Sella says brightly. “We’d just like more footage of the two of you interacting. Talking. Letting the audience get to know you better.”

Oh.

There’s the catch.

Conversation for the cameras isn’t exactly our strong suit.

And maybe it’s not a surprise we’ve given production so little to work with, considering we’re only just starting to open up to each other privately. We’re certainly not being saved by myinterviews, and as highly as I think of Roslyn, I doubt she’s doing much better.

“Perfect,” Roslyn mutters. “Sounds great.”

I share the sentiment completely.

With a few last words of encouragement, Sella leaves, no doubt off to monitor the date from wherever production will be stationed tonight. Just a few seconds later, a small autonomous hover appears from up the beach, drifting our way until it glides to a smooth stop in front of the bungalow.

A trio of hovercams descend and I reach for Roslyn’s elbow, giving her a steadying hand as she steps up to the hover’s platform. In the last few seconds of privacy we have for the evening, I lean in to murmur into her ear.

“You don’t have to share any more than you want to.” I slide my hand from her elbow, down her arm, and give her fingers a quick squeeze. “Lie, if you have to, I don’t mind.”

Steady on the hover, Roslyn turns to face me. With the step up from the beach, it puts her almost level to my face. I would only need to lean in a couple of inches to kiss the small, wry smile that turns up the corners of her lips.

She raises a hand and runs it through the tamed length of my hair, fingers brushing gently over a few of the beads I wove into it.

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