Page 23 of Cerban
The corner of his mouth twitched, quickly suppressed. “Very well. We will plan. Carefully. No one must know.”
Relief loosened something tight in my chest. “Thank you.”
He leaned closer, voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the connection. “But if anything happens, Maelis… I will not forgive myself.”
I swallowed hard, pulse racing. “Then we’ll make sure nothing does.”
We stared at each other, the air between us charged even through a screen. The cave, the bubbles, the rules – all of it waited beneath the surface. But for the first time, it felt like something we’d face together.
“I’ll bring spare cylinders this time,” I said quickly when he didn't reply. “Backup lights, reels, everything. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“You should not have made it once,” he countered, but there was no real anger in his voice – only the rasp of fear still lingering in him.
I lifted my chin. “That’s why you’ll be with me. We do this carefully. No risks we don’t account for.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, weighing me the way a commander weighs the readiness of a warrior. At last, he nodded. “Dawn. Fewer eyes watching then. Rainse can cover for us.”
Silence stretched between us again, heavy but not uncomfortable. My fingers itched to reach for him, though all I had was a screen.
“Maelis.” His voice was low, hesitant in a way I hadn’t heard before. “When you are with me under the water… stay close. Always. Promise me this.”
“I promise,” I whispered.
His shoulders lowered as though a weight had lifted, though his gaze was still fierce, still protective. “Then we will see what the sea is hiding.”
The line clicked softly, the call ending before I could say anything more.
I stared at my reflection on the darkened screen, heart pounding, gear still spread across the bed. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like the woman who had almost died in the dark deep.
I felt like someone about to discover something extraordinary.
14
Cerban
Sneaking out of the accommodation block had been easier than I could have hoped for. And it had totally been worth the look on Maelis’ face when she’d spotted me waiting outside her diving shack.
The planet’s sun had barely breached the horizon as we waded into the water, a sea so calm it looked like an entirely different ocean. The chaos of the storm had scrubbed the shore clean, leaving behind sand as smooth as glass and a silence broken only by the rhythm of the waves.
Maelis adjusted the straps of her gear with brisk efficiency, her movements sharp but steady. She’d doubled her tanks this time, checked every gauge twice. Her determination glowed brighter than the rising light.
Still, my chest tightened. I remembered her limp body in my arms, the way her breath had faltered, and every instinct in me screamed that bringing her back here was madness.
Yet when she caught me watching, her lips curved in a small, wry smile. “Don’t look at me like I’m about to break. I’m fine.”
“You nearly died.” My voice was low, rougher than I meant.
She tugged her mask into place, her eyes never leaving mine. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
I swallowed hard. She wasn’t wrong. I was here because I couldn’t let her out of my sight. Because the thought of her facing the sea without me was unbearable.
She hesitated, then reached for my hand. “Wait. Before we go under, you need to know this.”
I raised a brow. “I know how to swim.”
She gave me a look sharp enough to slice kelp. “Not swim. Communicate. I know you can talk underwater, but I can't.” She lifted her hand, fingers curled into a fist. “This means low on air.” Then she pressed the heel of her palm flat against her throat. “Out of air. Emergency.”
I watched carefully, committing each movement to memory.
