Page 38 of Fourth

Silence.

Except for the rapid beat of her pulse and the absolute quiet inside the ship as the command hung there, unanswered.

Maya stepped closer, drawn by necessity more than courage. Her shoulder brushed Riv’En’s arm, the heat of him escaping through therobe.

“What if they don’t answer?” she whispered.

“They will.”

His voice stayed quiet, unhurried. Not angry. Not afraid. Just... absolute.

But Maya was not reassured. The steady calm in Riv’En’s voice and posture should have been enough to settle her, but a cold knot twisted tighter in her stomach. Her robe’s muted orange hue—reflecting her own fear—made that fact impossible to ignore.

Her gaze flicked back to the viewport, watching that impossible ship hang in orbit. It shimmered so intensely now that parts of it flickered in and out of view, as if it didn’t exist in just one place. It made her stomach twist.

“How do you know they’ll answer?”

Riv’En did not look at her. “Because they know who I am. And what I am.” A pause. “They will not risk destroying one of their own.”

Her pulse stumbled. “Meaning... they won’t destroy you because you’re part Elaroin.”

“Affirmative.” His muscles tightened slightly, but his posture never wavered. “By blood. Which makes all the difference.”

“And me?”

He spared her a reassuring smile. “You are my mate,” he said, as though that explained everything.

“And that keeps me safe?”

“As safe as me,” he temporized.

Maya swallowed again, her mouth dry. Questions tangled behind her teeth, sharp and urgent, but she couldn’t force them out. Not with her pulse hammering in her ears. Not with the ship hanging outside like a living threat. The words stayed lodged in her throat, unspoken. Notyet.

Seconds—count-marks—ticked past, slow and relentless. Maya found herself counting them in her head, one after the other, as if keeping track, even after all this time, might somehow prevent a terrifying outcome. One. Two. Three. Her throat tightened with each silent number, her eyes never leaving the viewport.

Her ribs were caged, each inhale stretched thin and slow, like her lungs could not quite catch up to the air around her. Four. Five. Six. The count ran like a silent mantra in her head, steady as the pulse beneath her skin. Seven. Eight. Nine. Every mark tightening her ribs, straining her nerves until they stretched thin as wires. Ten. She could not stop. Could not let it go. Her mind clung to the numbers like they were the only thing holding her together.

Then—

The Elaroin ship pulsed.

Light flickered from its surface, bright enough to momentarily white out the viewport. Maya staggered back a step, blinking hard. Aquick surge of awareness slammed through her, sharp and disorienting.

Riv’En lifted his chin slightly. His robe shifted color from gold to a darker green. Maya’s gaze dropped to her own robe, and she caught the flicker of muted orange still clinging to thefabric. Riv’En followed her glance, his voice low and steady. “Fear,” he said simply. “That color reflects fear. It is not weakness. It is truth.”

“And yours?”

Riv’En’s gaze flicked briefly to the shifting color along his own robe. “Dark green symbolizes vigilance. Readiness.” His words remained calm. “I am prepared for what comes.”

A new voice filled the bridge: low and resonant, smooth and unbroken. It wasn’t filtered through the ship’s comms or layered with mechanical static. The sound pulsed directly into the air around them, almost as if the ship itself spoke. It reverberated low in her chest, steady as a heartbeat, impossible to ignore.

“Identification confirmed. Stand by. Emissary en route.”

Maya’s stomach dropped. “Emissary? What does that mean?”

Riv’En turned toward her now, his expression as unreadable as ever. “They will board.”

A chill ran through her limbs, sharp and grounding, holding her perfectly still. “Board here? Now?”

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