Page 67 of Storm of Stars
Because if I looked too closely, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know. And if I acknowledged it, it became real. And real meant risk. Real meant danger.
And I was terrified for her.
So I looked past it, played blind. Convinced myself that protecting her meant not speaking it aloud, not calling attention to it. But all I was really doing was keeping myself safe from the fear. From the truth.
Thorne knew her in a way I didn’t. He saw that part of her fully, fought beside it, believed in it. He understood what she was building long before I did.
I regret that now.
I regret not sitting beside her in the dark, asking why she was willing to risk everything. I regret not hearing the full story of the rebellion she was trying to start, or how she held onto hope like it was armor. I regret not letting her see that I could’ve been brave, too.
It’s too late to know her like that, now.
But it’s not too late to finish what she started. To carry the torch she lit, even if I was too scared to touch it back then.
“I just don’t want these people to fight and die for nothing,” Bex replied, tears stinging her eyes.
From across the tent, Devrin spoke up. “They know the risks,” he said, voice low but firm.
Bex and I turned toward him.
“You don’t want to feel responsible for them. I get it,” he continued, standing straighter. “No one wants to be the reason someone doesn’t make it home. But these people showed up anyway. They chose this.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“They know there’s a chance they won’t walk out of here. That we might fail. That Praxis might erase this rebellion and spin it into some bedtime cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the Archon,” he said, his eyes locking on mine then hers. “But they also know there’s a chance we win. That we finally get to breathe air that isn’t rationed by a government who doesn’t protect us.”
He stepped closer.
“They’re not looking for guarantees. They’re looking for leaders. People willing to stand up and say, ‘We’ll give everything for the chance to live free.’” Edgar spoke up. He looked between Bex and me.
Devrin finished by meeting Bex’s gaze. “So don’t mourn them before the fight. Honor them by leading like they deserve.”
Bex stared at him for a moment, then let out a slow breath. She stood, walked toward him, and offered her hand. Devrin took it.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry about almost killing you in the Trials,” he replied, that familiar glint of cockiness softening at the edges. But it sounded real this time.
Bex gave a small laugh. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to.”
Just then, the tent flaps opened and the rest of the Wildguard stepped inside, freshly cleaned and dressed thanks to Edgar’s foresight, faces set with resolve. Ezra was walking under his own power, still pale, but upright. Zaffir and Thorne flanked him, silent sentinels.
Thorne strode up to Bex without warning and scooped her up around the waist. She let out a surprised yelp that quickly turned into a breathless laugh, her arms flailing before she gave in to the moment.
“I’m cool with sharing you with these idiots,” he said, nodding toward the rest of us, “but I draw the line atthatone.” He pointed dramatically at Devrin.
Devrin sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, a tired smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.
“Put me down, Thorne,” Bex giggled. “I’m not looking to add to my little harem.”
“Good,” he murmured against her skin, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before spinning her in his arms and settling her against his chest, arms wrapped protectively around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, content.
I turned from their affection to face Ezra and Zaffir. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, united in that quiet way trauma often binds people. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t struggled to trust Zaffir at first. Maybe because he was born in Praxis.Maybe because he got to sit out the trials while the rest of us bled for our survival.
But when we stepped off that bus and I saw Zaffir in a new light, arms wrapped tightly around Bex and Ezra as if he could somehow hold all their broken pieces together with sheer will alone…Isawit.
The pain.
