Simone sat beside him, too short for her feet to touch the ground. “Wow.” Leaning back a little, she rested her palms behind her on either side of her hips. “I forgot how much the sun can heat stone. When I was a little girl, I used to sit on rocks like these on cool days to warm my bottom.”
He cracked a smile, one of his scars tugging at it and making it uneven.
Taking a chance, she bumped him companionably with her shoulder. “Speaking of the sun, I wanted to thank you for this.” She took in the brightly lit meadow around them. “Janwar told me you were the one who arranged things so that the light wouldn’t harm me.”
He tossed a few more seeds to the rinyas. “It was his idea.”
“Perhaps. But you were the one who figured out what needed to be done and how to do it. And you took the time to implement it.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch even with her sensitive hearing and looked adorably uncomfortable.
Her movements slow and careful, Simone reached out and took one of his hands.
He stilled, his gaze darting to the contact.
“May I show you what you gave me?” she asked softly.
His eyes met hers for a long inscrutable moment. Then he nodded. Just once.
Returning her attention to the meadow around them, Simone focused on the happiness that sitting here like this—something she hadn’t been able to do in centuries—brought her and let it flow into him where they touched.
His breath caught. Facing forward, he closed his eyes. The tension in his face eased. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to curl them around hers, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a long sigh, the muscles in his broad shoulders relaxing as his lashes lifted. He stared at the sunny meadow.
Minutes passed.
His throat worked in a swallow. “Is this happiness?” he asked softly.
“Yes.”
“So that’s what it feels like.”
The simple statement—offered innocently and with a touch of awe—reminded her of Valok.
Sadness struck so swiftly and forcefully that she had to blink back tears.
“Now you’re sad.” Kova turned to study her, joy no longer reflected in his features. “Or is that pity?”
Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to feel that.”
He shrugged and looked away. “I’m accustomed to pity.”
“It isn’t pity, Kova. It’s grief.”
His brows drew down in a frown as he glanced at her. “Grief?”
She stared down at their hands, afraid to see his expression. If he showed her an ounce of sympathy, she would break into sobs. That wound was still too raw. “I made a lot of friends on the Kandovar.” When her voice emerged a little hoarse, she cleared her throat. “One of them was a Yona warrior named Valok. Shortly before the Gathendiens attacked, he hit me with a stun grenade. Afterward—”
“He hit you with a stun grenade?”
She smiled at the shock he emanated. “I asked him to. I wanted to know if it would incapacitate me in battle, but none of the Lasarans would do it.”
“So you appealed to a soldier who wouldn’t be hampered by worry or guilt.”
“Yes. Afterward, I offered to show him what emotion felt like.”
“Yona don’t feel emotion.”
“He did,” she said, “when I utilized my gift.”
Kova grunted. “I’m surprised he let you. Yona lack the curiosity that normally drives one to want to try something new.”
“I convinced him to.” She loosed a laugh rife with bitter self-condemnation. “I fed him some bullshit about helping him understand what motivates his opponents in battle. But the truth was I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity and see if he would be able to feel something with my aid.”
“And did he?”
“Yes.” She shrugged miserably. “His response was so similar to yours that I couldn’t help but think of him.”
A long moment passed.
“It’s possible he survived,” Kova murmured, perhaps wanting to lessen the guilt that battered her.
She appreciated it. Like his crewmates, Kova had a kind heart. “He didn’t. I caught up with him as he prepared to board a fighter craft. I wanted to join the battle and grabbed his arm to hold his attention when he dismissed me.” A lump rose in her throat as she blinked back tears. “Though it wasn’t my intention, my emotions flooded him.” Simone looked away, seeing Valok’s face instead of the beautiful glen and playful rinyas. “There was an explosion. I was injured. Valok picked me up and hurried to get me into an escape pod. As soon as I was strapped in, he backed out and closed the hatch. Seconds later, another explosion killed him.”
Kova said nothing.
Moisture spilled over her lashes. “The last thing he said to me before he died was, ‘Thank you for letting me feel.’” Releasing his hand, she brushed away her tears. “If I hadn’t used my gift and distracted him, he would’ve made it onto a fighter craft and off the ship, and there would be some hope that he had survived.” Instead, she had watched him die. “And here I am, forcing my emotions on you.” She laughed, the sound bereft of mirth. “I suppose I haven’t learned my lesson.”
Minutes crept by. Two? Three? Ten?
She wasn’t sure, too wrapped up in her thoughts.
Kova sighed. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“You don’t need to. I’m sorry. I should’ve made my intention to alter your emotions clear before asking your permission. And I shouldn’t have burdened you with the rest.”
He shook his head. “When I was fifteen orbits,” he said slowly as though the words had to be dragged from him, “some older boys ambushed me, held me down, and cut traditional markings into my skin. One of their knives hit a major artery. Srok’a found me and got me to the nearest healing facility before I could bleed out. But the medics there viewed me with the same disgust as the boys who’d marked me. A disgust everyone on my homeworld shared.” His lips turned up in a bitter smile. “The medics didn’t give me blood to replace what I’d lost, leaving me to live or die without it. They just sealed the wounds and—while Srok’a was forced to wait outside, unaware—treated them with a compound that would worsen the scarring instead of reducing it.” Turning his head, he met her gaze. “Does my telling you that burden you?”
“No,” she said, fury burning bright inside her. “It makes me want to hunt down every one of those bastards—both the boys who cut you and the medics who treated you—and feed them to the Dotharian.” She pasted a look of excitement on her face and eyed him eagerly. “Ooh. Do you think Janwar would let me do that after we find my friends?”
He laughed and looked younger despite the scarring and the hard life he’d led. “I suspect he would if Srok’a and I hadn’t already killed them all.”
“Good for you. High five.” She held a hand up, palm-out. When he stared at it blankly, she took his wrist and showed him how to give her a high five. “Earthlings do that to celebrate wins and good news.”
“Ah.” He gave her another high five. “What emotions did you let the Yona feel?” he asked curiously, his features slipping back into their usual somber mien.