“Neither is that grassy spot behind the barn on Cargill.”
“Before I forget,” Cassia said while digging inside her beach bag. “I have something for you. Renny gave me these before he went topside with Gage to refuel the ship. He said to return them with the usual spiel about how he’s sorry and he can’t help it.” She twirled a hand. “Blah, blah, blah.”
Since private time was over, Solara sat up to find out what was in the bag. She didn’t expect to see a pair of silvery bracelets, and it took a moment to recognize them as the indenture bands that had once linked her to Doran as his servant.
“Look,” she told him while taking the bracelets in her hand. They were heavier than she remembered, but she had no problem recalling the high-pitched beep that used to call her in the middle of the night. “I wonder how long Renny’s had these. I forgot all about them.”
Doran frowned at the bands, reaching out to touch the MASTER emblem and then pulling back. He didn’t seem to enjoy looking at them. When his gaze shifted to the birthmark at the base of Solara’s throat, she wondered if he was thinking about that day in the ticketing station.
Let’s get something straight, Rattail. If I agree to finance your passage, the only words that will leave your mouth for the next five months are “Yes, Mr. Spaulding.”
She gazed into the electric-blue eyes of the boy sitting beside her on the sand. Instead of a tuxedo and a haughty smirk, he wore baggy secondhand cutoffs and a frown of contrition. This version of Doran had abandoned a life of privilege to travel on a decrepit ship with a crew of fugitives. She couldn’t reconcile him with the other Doran, the one who’d hired her to wash his floor and fetch his champagne.
Taking his injured wrist, she carefully faced it up to expose the tattoo that matched hers, then traced the inky swords with her fingertip. “Seems like a lifetime ago when we wore those bracelets, doesn’t it?”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Two lifetimes.”
“Neither of us had any idea what we were getting into.”
“One of us did.” He peeked at her through dark lashes. “I had no intention of making it easy on you. If we’d stayed on the Zenith, I would’ve run you into the ground, just because I could. You don’t know how awful I was.”
“Trust me,” she said with a grin. “I knew.” Holding up the indenture bands, she asked, “So what should we do with these?”
“Burn them.”
Solara found herself gripping the steel bands in case he tried to take them away. It was ridiculous to want them so badly when until a few minutes ago, she’d forgotten they existed. But she and Doran had a history, and these bracelets had set every wild moment of it in motion. The bands were as much a part of her as the tattoos that branded her a felon, and she had no plans to erase those, either.
“I’m not sorry it happened,” she told him.
Doran turned to meet her eyes, shaking his head as he took her face in his palm. “Me neither,” he said. “I’m sorry how it happened.”
“Semantics,” she dismissed with a wave. While kissing him on the nose, she tucked the bracelets out of sight beneath her beach towel. She wasn’t giving them up. “But enough of that. You promised me a vacation.”
“So I did.”
“Then let’s get back to it. Playtime’s over in a few—” She cut off with a gasp, her face drenched from the mighty splash of Cassia pushing Kane into the water. A second spray came shortly afterward when Kane hauled his princess over one shoulder and took his revenge. Cheeks dripping, Solara finished, “A few hours.”
Doran laughed and used his discarded shirt to blot her face. It smelled like him, and that made her smile. “I predict they’ll be bickering again in three…two…one.”
He was right, of course. But Solara wouldn’t have it any other way, because these were her people and this was their journey together—messy and wild and wonderful. She had no idea what the future would hold for any of them, beyond possibilities as infinite as the stars.
And really, that was enough.
Writing a book never gets easier for me, even after nine completed manuscripts. Clever one-liners, witty dialogue, and plot twists can’t be reused, so with each new story, I’m forced to dig deeper to reach the source of my creative well. I couldn’t do it without the help of some very special people who work hard behind the scenes, digging right alongside me.
Many thanks to my editor, Laura Schreiber, for taking my books to the next level with thoughtful, in-depth suggestions that never fail to amaze me. I draft with more confidence knowing your edit letters will arrive in my in-box. We make a great team, and I’m so glad that fate brought us together.
Speaking of which, much gratitude to my literary agent, Nicole Resciniti, for finding the right home for my novels, and for being my fiercest advocate. You rock!
Big hugs to my dear friend and critique partner, Lorie Langdon, and to Stacey Kade and Lea Nolan for taking the time to read Starflight and share your thoughts with me. Not only are you ladies excellent beta readers, you’re phenomenal authors, too.
Much love to my family and friends for their continued support, and a huge shout-out to my readers, who warm my heart with every e-mail, tweet, video, and Instagram post. You are the very best part of my job!
MELISSA LANDERS is a former teacher who left the classroom to pursue other worlds. A proud sci-fi geek, she isn’t afraid to wear her Princess Leia costume in public—just ask her husband and three kids. She lives outside Cincinnati in the small town of Loveland, “Sweetheart of Ohio.” For more information, or to just say hello, visit melissa-landers.com.
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