20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Uncomfortable truths.

Fyn was finishing up his breakfast at the table, and I stared at him like the creeper I was. It truly didn’t matter what he was doing, I enjoyed watching him.

“What shall we do today?” my Sunshine asked, his tail sliding near my leg.

He’d asked this every day since we started dating. Usually, we remained in the palace. We would spend time with Kal and Seth or see Wyn and NAID. I still hadn’t been introduced to Urgg, but they were never with Seth when I saw him; it was annoying as hell.

NAID and Wyn had made no meaningful progress on the sensors being able to perceive me. They’d mentioned some techno-babble I didn’t understand, but the bottom line was—the sensors didn’t perceive me yet besides the phase variance I caused. Wyn, and several of the other scientists studying NAID, had gotten super into it, though. Apparently, it was a fascinating thing to study, or, more accurately, I was an interesting problem for them to puzzle through.

And we hadn’t heard if the Luxnisian Assembly would allow us access to their technology or not. Our request was still waiting for review from the emperor before being presented to the Cohort, if it even was going to. Fyn didn’t know if his father would or not, because not everyone on the Cohort believed Fyn about his gift. Asses.

Mostly, Fyn and I spent our days in the garden, or he showed me around the palace. It was peaceful, and I loved it. My wanderlust usually made me seek out new places or explore all the nooks and crannies, but this time, it was different. Fyn had captured my interest so fully, I had no need to wander. He was the only thing I longed to explore anymore—my perfect Sunshine.

“My Caleb,” Fyn said, startling me. “Are you well?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You didn’t answer me. What should we do today?”

“I should go see Tinlorray.” A few days had passed since the last time I’d seen her. I worried she was still clinging to Yolkeltod, thinking he was there because of my dumb-ass mistake. Of course, she’d assumed it was her brother’s spirit, not some rando hanging around her. Because, let’s be real here, who would have assumed some other ghost was hanging around them?

He looked away, and I fought a smile. Fyn liked to worry. Honestly, worrying had to be a drakcol thing. Kal certainly did it over Seth. I hadn’t observed (or haunted by any other name) Hal and his mate Gil enough to know if he worried over her or vice versa, but probably. Drakcol were possessive buggers. Not that I was complaining.

I rested my chin in my cupped hands. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“I promised Yolkeltod.”

“I know.”

I laughed. “You want me to stay, though.”

“I worry something will happen or you will need me, and I won’t be there. I don’t wish to fail you.”

I frowned at his choice of words. “You won’t fail me, Sunshine. I’m an adult, and I’m responsible for my own choices.”

“I need to protect you.”

Yeah, this was definitely a drakcol thing. “You are protecting me, but if something happens, which it won’t, trust me to take care of myself. I’ve been alone for a long time in some very desperate situations, and look at me,” I held out my arms, “I’m still here.”

There had been many times I thought I’d get stuck on some derelict ship or station. Or that time I’d gotten left behind on the uninhabited planet for at least a year, maybe more. I was not going to tell Fyn anything about that. He would worry, which, as I’d established, was a favorite pastime of drakcol.

His tail whipped side to side and his wings rustled on his back, threatening to slide out through the slits in his shirt. Fyn pulled away from me, and I wasn’t sure why.

“Sunshine,” I whispered, brushing the line of his jaw. “What’s going through your head?” He blinked. While my words had been in his language, I don’t think I used them properly or they didn’t have the same concept attached to the words. Learning languages without proper classes was hard. “What are you thinking?” I reiterated.

He didn’t say anything.

Worry plucked at me. Was he mad? Or maybe rethinking being with me? He wouldn’t change his mind, right? “We should go on a date when I get back from seeing Tinlorray tonight.”

“I do not understand that word,” he said. His tone still held something that I couldn’t articulate, and it made me worry. Like my pulse actually picked up for an instant before it vanished.

I had said date in English because I didn’t know the Drakconese equivalent. Was it the same as courting? Probably. Maybe. But that might be focused on us and not an activity. I wracked my brain for a few more seconds, trying to find a word that was similar, but nothing came to mind, especially with the panic he was about to break up with me flitting through my thoughts.

So I settled with: “An outing where we spend time getting to know each other.”

“Like we do every day?”

“Not exactly. A date usually involves food or an activity. Why don’t you think of something you would like to do, and we’ll do it together. It’s fun and we get to know each other. I think you would like it. I mean, I like it. I want to date you; you don’t have to date me. We can—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, making me relax.

Everything was fine.

I stepped into the hospital room where Yolkeltod’s lifeless body lay. Tinlorray wasn’t there, but it was early in the day, and I suspected she was at work—whatever it was that she did. I had no idea. I clearly needed to stalk her more.

So many things on Earth and Tamkolvanloknol were similar. People had families, lives, and jobs. While the details might differ, people were people. As I wandered the universe, recognizing the similarities between humans and other aliens always shocked me. Yes, the trappings were different, and aliens appeared different and had unique cultures, but all in all, we were the same, at least in some small way.

Though, the technology. Man, I wished Earth had half of the things I’d seen.

Chuckling to myself, I went to Yolkeltod’s side. The same empty feeling came over me when I stared at his body. The machines kept him alive and breathing, but he was gone. God, it was morbid, not to mention depressing, and I hoped Tinlorray would let him go.

With nothing else to do, I wandered from bed to bed. There were a variety of patients from older people with rough scales to younger ones with the sheen of youth. There were no children. A few visitors would come in and out, but none of their conversations held my focus for long. Most were about the comings and goings of their lives or families, which should’ve captured my attention, but things were different now. Or, more accurately, I was different.

I wanted to go back to the palace and spend the day with Fyn and assure myself that we were fine. Perhaps I could convince him to wander the city? I didn’t know if that was something he was allowed to do. He was a prince. Also, he might not like shopping or chilling in the city. I hadn’t asked yet. God, there was so much to learn about him still.

Maybe we could go somewhere else like the forests surrounding the capital? Hiking? Plants? Both of us would enjoy that.

Or an experience—a simulated reality within a suite. They were usually stories, military, or exploration. Experiences, from what I’d seen, were awesome—Kal and Seth had played one on the Admiral Ven. It would be fun to do with Sunshine.

The day passed like it was on fast-forward as I thought through the different options for our date. The longer I was a ghost, the less time meant to me and the easier it was to do nothing. There was literally no rush or pressure. I had nothing but time.

I was so lost in my thoughts about Fyn that I didn’t notice Tinlorray until she flopped onto the stool I was sitting on. I quickly stood, and she shivered.

“Yolkeltod?” Tinlorray asked.

“Shit.” I’d been trying my best to not touch her, but that plan was clearly circling the crapper. “I’m not Yolkeltod. He’s gone.”

Tinlorray ignored me, not shocking, and talked to her brother about what was going on in her life, much like all of the other visitors, though I paid far more attention to her. Her hair was clean and neatly braided, her scales shiny, and her clothes without a single wrinkle.

Hope. I’d given her hope, but it was false and I feared, in the end, it would hurt Tinlorray far more than the truth.

“Work is well,” she said, smoothing the blanket over Yolkeltod’s body. “Tomkin says I’m the leading candidate for the systems programmer. That means no more fixing broken tech all over the city. I’d work near here. I could see you more.”

That’s why she’d been in the apartment complex; she’d been fixing something.

“The Guard is still holding your place,” Tinlorray continued, straightening Yolkeltod’s hair. “Two more cycles and you can go to space as a security officer, like you desire, or join the Planetary Navy, if you want to go to the academy first.” Her tail flicked. “I know I didn’t want you to go, because I’d miss you, but, Yolkeltod, I would do anything to have you back, and if the stars are where you want to be, I will support you.”

Everyone had regrets. You said something hurtful that you wished to take back. You didn’t support someone because of fear. You didn’t talk to someone as much as you wished. We all left this world with regrets for actions not taken and things left undone, but the people we left behind had just as many. It was the human condition—or rather, the price of living.

“Please,” Tinlorray said, voice growing in volume. “Please, Yolkeltod, come back to me. I’m so sorry. That fight…”

When she trailed off, I swore my heart fell, but it was so fast, I couldn’t be certain it had actually occurred.

“We fought, Yolkeltod,” Tinlorray said, tears forming. “We never fight, but you were going to leave, and I wasn’t ready. The last thing I did was accuse you of abandoning me. Of neglecting your duty to our family for adventure.”

She cupped her brother’s cheek. “Please, please accept my apologies. Please, Yolkeltod.”

“Fuck,” I whispered.

Tinlorray gripped his much larger hand. “I’m not ready… I’m not ready for you to go, so I need you to come back.”