Page 93 of Storm of Stars
Briar held me a little tighter. “I think she does,” she said simply, lifting her gaze to the sky.
I followed her eyes, looking up through the soft fading light. I used to stare at the stars and wonder if my mother could see the same ones, if maybe, somehow, through all the distance and time and absence, we were connected by the same pieces of sky.
Now, that same sky stretched wide and whole above us. And I didn’t have to wonder anymore. I knew.
“She’s there, you know,” Briar said. “She’s in every step we take forward. Every law we rewrite. Every kid who grows up not afraid of the dark. Every person who gets the resources they deserve without dying for the privilege.”
The lump in my throat swelled, but this time it was paired with a strange, quiet peace.
“She always said the stars could tell the future,” I whispered. “Maybe this was what she saw.”
Briar smiled gently. “Then she knew we’d win. Even when we didn’t believe it ourselves.”
The stars blinked into view one by one. I leaned into Briar and let the silence speak for us.
“There you two are,” Bex’s voice rang out across the balcony, warm and rich and so achingly familiar it still made my heart stutter. Briar and I turned at the same time, instinctively parting just enough for her to slide between us. She always fit there. Like that space had waited for her all along.
She nestled in, one arm around each of us. I pressed a kiss to her lips, soft and slow, while Briar leaned in to kiss her cheek. Bex laughed, a little breathless from the double affection, and I felt it vibrate through her chest into mine.
“Hey, love,” I whispered, still close enough that my lips brushed hers.
“Hi,” she murmured back, her voice smiling.
“Did you hear anything yet?” Briar asked, her voice low but tense as she stepped into the room.
Bex looked up from the screen in her hands, worry etched into the lines around her eyes. “Nothing,” she said softly. As soon as we could, we sent a message to Ava. Told her to bring Jax here. “Still no reply.”
“Bex,” Briar whispered. Pressing a kiss to her lips.
“I know,” Bex whispered, and the sound of her voice twisted something in my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “Don’t worry, love,” I murmured against her temple, brushing a kiss there. “I’m sure they’re okay. Things are… strange right now. Even with the railway open, there’s barely any infrastructure. No real schedules. No idea who’s actually running things. And who knows how far they had run to stay safe during the Reclamation. It’s not exactly an easy trek.”
She leaned into me, just enough that I could feel some of the tension ease from her shoulders. “They’re probably already on their way,” I added gently. “Probably stuck at some brokencheckpoint or waiting on a repurposed cargo train that hasn’t run on time in twenty years.”
I believed it. I really did. But I still couldn’t stop checking the door every time I passed it. Just in case.
“Thanks,” she said after a long moment. She turned in my arms and kissed me softly, slow and grateful. “For always knowing what to say.”
“I don’t always,” I admitted against her lips. “But I mean it. They’ll be here. He’ll be here.”
Her eyes closed. Just for a moment. And I held her tighter, because we both needed to believe it.
“I came to tell you both that dinner’s ready,” she added, glancing at Briar.
I raised an eyebrow. “Did Edgar cook again?” I asked, already grimacing. “No offense, but the man’s better with battle strategy than he is with garlic.”
Briar laughed, and Bex smacked my shoulder with a huff of fake outrage.
“He tries,” she said, but her tone betrayed her agreement.
“Tries to assassinate us with flavorless stew,” I teased, and Briar snorted.
“I don’t care if it’s charcoal soup,” Briar said, pushing off from the railing. “I’m starving.”
She turned toward the door, leaving me and Bex in the glow of the fading sunlight. Bex made to follow, but I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her back against me.
“Me too,” I whispered into her ear, letting the words drip with a different kind of hunger.
