Chapter 42: Blue

Near the edge of their camp, just a few meters from the fire, a tiny creature crept closer on silent paws. Evelyn blinked, surprised, before watching it with fascination.

It was some kind of feline, barely bigger than a Terran kitten, with deep blue fur that seemed to capture the ambient light, shimmering like a starry sea. Its ears were slightly rounded, and a pair of bright, curious eyes studied them with playful intelligence.

The creature hesitated for a moment before cautiously stepping forward, its tiny nose twitching, drawn in by the tempting aroma of their meal.

"Oh, look at that..." Evelyn murmured, utterly enchanted.

Vykhor barely spared it a glance, clearly unimpressed. He simply crossed his arms and observed with an impassive expression as the small feline edged closer, eyes locked onto the pieces of grilled fish.

"It better not touch my food," he said dryly.

Evelyn swatted his forearm. "Vykhor! He's adorable!"

"He's an opportunist," the Kael’tarien corrected flatly.

As if to prove him right, the creature made a swift, calculated leap toward one of the fish pieces, attempting to snatch it with its tiny claws. With fluid precision, Vykhor grabbed the little animal by the scruff of its neck and lifted it effortlessly, holding it at arm’s length with a bored expression.

The feline, far from frightened, gazed at him with feigned innocence, its fluffy tail swaying lazily.

"It’s not afraid of you," Evelyn noted, amused.

"A mistake it would do well not to repeat," Vykhor muttered before setting it down on the black sand, away from the fire.

But instead of running away, the small creature rolled onto its back, exposing its belly, then sat up and fixed Evelyn with twinkling eyes full of mischief.

Evelyn placed her hands on her cheeks, completely smitten. "I already love it."

Vykhor exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "My’Lari, if you start getting attached to every cute creature you meet, our ship is going to turn into a damn menagerie."

But Evelyn was no longer listening. She extended a hand, and the feline cautiously approached, sniffing her fingers before rubbing its tiny head against her palm.

A radiant smile lit up her face.

Vykhor knew it was already too late. They had an extra guest at breakfast.

The fire crackled softly, casting shifting shadows over Iskaara’s glittering black sand. The scent of grilled fish and exotic fruit drifted through the air, mingling with the ocean breeze. Evelyn, sitting cross-legged across from Vykhor, was completely engrossed in the little feline with starry fur that had settled beside her, patiently waiting for its share of the feast.

Vykhor watched the scene with outward indifference, but in truth, he was analyzing every detail with sharp precision.

Something had changed between them. Subtly. Almost imperceptibly.

Evelyn was more relaxed, more spontaneous. Since traveling with him, she had always been sharp-minded, eager to learn. But she had also kept a certain restraint, as if making sure never to be a burden to him, to live up to the expectations she believed he had of her.

But today—this morning, after the night he had claimed her—it was different.

He watched her laugh softly, playing with the little feline, her gestures natural and unguarded, without hesitation, without measuring every reaction. She wasn’t trying to prove her worth or stay constantly alert.

She was simply being.

And that realization was strangely satisfying.

Vykhor wasn’t a man who bothered with existential questions. He was a warrior. A fallen prince. A mercenary. He hadn’t been raised to cultivate tenderness. But he understood respect. He understood loyalty. He knew what it meant to protect what was his.

And Evelyn… she was his.

It was his role, his duty, to make sure she felt safe enough to be herself. That wasn’t a weakness. It was a reality he accepted without hesitation.

He handed her a plate, his gaze locking onto hers for a moment.

"Eat. Otherwise, you’ll forget again and end up passing out on me."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, amused.

"That only happened once."

"Once too many."

She took her plate, but before she could take a bite, the little feline placed its front paws on her thigh, lifting its nose toward the grilled fish.

Vykhor raised a brow and fixed the creature with a severe look.

"No."

The feline seemed unimpressed by the Kael’tarien’s authority and tried to climb higher, eyes pleading as it turned toward Evelyn.

"Oh, Vykhor… Look at him… He’s hungry."

Vykhor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"He’s just figured out you’re an easy mark."

But Evelyn had already plucked off a small piece of fish, offering it to the feline, who snatched it eagerly with a satisfied chirp before curling up at her feet to enjoy its prize.

Vykhor shook his head.

He was doomed.

He had never imagined tolerating a useless creature in his space. And yet, he already knew he wouldn’t chase it away—not as long as Evelyn had that gleam in her eyes every time she looked at the damn thing.

His gaze drifted back to her, capturing her profile as the morning light kissed her skin.

She was here. With him.

And she wasn’t afraid to be herself anymore.

And for a warrior like him, that was worth more than any victory on the battlefield.

The binary sun of Iskaara cast golden and silver hues over the bioluminescent ocean as Vykhor and Evelyn walked along the shimmering black shores. The little feline, which Evelyn had named Blue—after the way its fur seemed to glow with an azure light—trotted alongside them, as curious as any creature could be.

Evelyn moved lightly, captivated by the richness of the local flora and fauna. She often knelt to examine the translucent plants that reacted to her touch, their leaves shifting in slow, iridescent gradients.

Vykhor, as always, stayed a few steps behind, watching over her with his usual calm, his sharp gaze shifting between Evelyn and their surroundings.

Blue darted about, chasing after glowing insects or perching on crystalline rock formations like a self-important little sentry. Whenever he wandered too far, he would always come trotting back, pausing just long enough for Evelyn to kneel and scratch behind his ears.

But despite these moments of unintentional tenderness, Vykhor saw the inner battle she was fighting.

She was trying not to get attached.

She laughed when Blue flopped onto his back, mewling for attention, or rubbed against her leg. But she kept a certain distance, refusing to carry him too long or feed him like she had at breakfast.

She murmured to herself, almost like a mantra:

"You’re a wild animal, Blue. You have to stay here. This is your home."

But Vykhor knew—the more she repeated it, the more she was trying to convince herself.

As twilight approached and their return to the Narak’Tharr loomed, Vykhor noticed the subtle shift in Evelyn’s posture.

Her steps had slowed.

Her touches on Blue had grown longer, more hesitant.

Her gaze lingered on him with a conflicted glint, as if she was still weighing the decision in her mind.

She was losing the battle against her own heart.

Vykhor finally stopped, crossing his arms as his golden eyes locked onto hers.

"You want him to come with us."

It wasn’t a question.

Evelyn shook her head as if trying to resist.

"He has to stay here."

Blue, now sitting at her feet, peered up at her with those bright, knowing eyes, blissfully unaware of the emotional storm brewing inside his favorite human.

Vykhor studied her in silence for a moment before sighing and crouching before Blue. The little feline, intrigued, flicked his tail.

"You want to follow her, don’t you?"

Blue chirped.

Vykhor smirked, that knowing half-smile Evelyn was starting to recognize all too well.

"Then it’s settled."

"Vykhor, I can’t—"

"You’ve already lost this battle, My’Lari."

Evelyn looked down as Blue placed a small paw on her knee, ears perked, as if he understood exactly what was happening.

She exhaled in defeat before carefully scooping him up.

"Fine. But if he doesn’t adapt to the ship, we’ll find him another home, agreed?"

Vykhor raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

She was going to keep it. They both knew it.

Vykhor moved through the corridors of the Narak’Tharr with silent steps, the ship humming softly beneath his feet as they left Iskaara’s orbit. His sharp gaze swept over the control screens as he passed the cockpit. Everything was running smoothly, as always. He could have focused on other tasks, but something urged him to check on his My’Lari.

He found her in the common room, seated at one of the long metal tables. Her black notebook lay open in front of her, already filled with meticulous lines of scientific observations and inspired descriptions. A dim light cast a glow over her focused face as she wrote with almost hypnotic fluidity, lost in the memories of their exploration on Iskaara.

She was speaking to Kryna, the ship’s AI, who projected holograms of images collected from its sensors. Evelyn annotated, classified, and cross-referenced the data with an intensity almost childlike in its enthusiasm.

But what truly caught Vykhor’s attention was Blue, curled up comfortably on the table right beside her. The small feline had clearly claimed the space as its own, and Evelyn, without even thinking about it, absentmindedly ran her fingers through its fur in a slow, unconscious caress.

Vykhor crossed his arms and leaned casually against the doorway, watching the scene. He was still somewhat skeptical about the feline’s presence on board, but he couldn’t deny one thing:

Evelyn was happy.

She was relaxed, completely in her element, speaking with passion, free to be herself without the weight of a mission or the threat of imminent danger. Her natural curiosity, that insatiable thirst for knowledge, the way she spoke to Kryna as if chatting with an old friend—all of it was part of who she was.

And Blue, despite its apparent uselessness, was not a burden.

Quite the opposite. If this tiny creature brought that genuine smile to Evelyn’s face, if it helped bring out that effortless warmth in her movements, then Vykhor would tolerate it.