Chapter 43: What Does My’Lari Mean?

The Kael'tarien pushed off the wall and walked over, his deep voice breaking the studious calm: "You're gonna fill up a whole stack of notebooks at this rate, My'Lari."

Evelyn immediately looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips. "Have you seen how gorgeous Iskaara is? I’ve got so much to jot down before I forget a single detail."

Vykhor brushed his fingers over the cover of her notebook, letting his eyes glide across it with quiet appreciation. "You never forget anything."

Evelyn shrugged with a soft laugh. "Okay... Let's say I want a physical memory. Something I can come back to later."

Vykhor studied her for a moment longer before his gaze shifted to Blue, still sprawled out like he owned the place. "And him?" he asked, nodding at the feline. "Is he taking notes too?"

Evelyn stifled a laugh and affectionately petted the little creature, who lazily lifted its head. "He's supervising, obviously."

Vykhor shook his head slightly, that faint smirk tugging at his lips. "As long as he doesn’t start thinking he can run the ship."

Evelyn chuckled at the idea, then looked down at Blue with a fond expression. "Don’t worry, he’s still too small for a mutiny."

The Kael’tarien watched the growing bond between them and, for the first time, thought that maybe Blue wasn’t a burden. Maybe, just maybe, that tiny, unassuming creature had a greater purpose:

To make his My’Lari happy.

Life aboard the Narak'Tharr had changed. Subtly, but deeply. And it had nothing to do with the ship’s weapons systems or engine efficiency.

No.

The change came from the presence of a small, blue-furred being with eyes like liquid gems, gliding through the halls with the grace of a future ruler: Blue.

The feline had adapted perfectly to space travel, as if he’d been born for it. The metallic corridors became his playground. He slinked through them silently, climbed inner structures with ease, and always found new hiding spots to nap. Evelyn, amused, had even set up a little blanket on a secondary console in the common room—Blue’s observation post.

He spent his days glued to Evelyn. When she worked, he napped beside her. When she rested, he followed quietly, like a soft shadow. He didn’t speak, of course, but his gaze said plenty. He saw everything. And more importantly, he understood Evelyn in a strange, almost instinctive way.

Vykhor, meanwhile, hadn’t changed a bit when it came to his rules. After they returned from Iskaara, he simply announced that from now on, Evelyn would sleep in his quarters. With him. No discussion. No debate. It wasn’t said with softness, or wrapped in an "I love you." But it was clear, firm, absolute. His own way of making a claim.

Evelyn had just rolled her eyes and smiled. Because deep down, she understood him now. And she knew it meant more than any romantic words.

But Blue had found it way less amusing... at least at first. He protested—with meows, scratching at the door, and dramatic stares shot Evelyn’s way every time she disappeared into Vykhor’s room.

Until the day he found the ventilation shafts. And casually made himself comfortable at the foot of the Kael’tarien’s bed.

Vykhor had stared at him. For a long time. In silence. But he hadn’t kicked him out. He just said: "As long as you stay away from my pillow."

That was his way of opening the door. And Blue got it.

A few days later, Evelyn, in one of her bursts of endless curiosity, discovered the truth about Blue. And when she told Vykhor, her eyes glowing with excitement, the Kael’tarien realized too: this little feline was way more than just a pet.

He was going to become something massive. Tiger-sized, or bigger. A wild, agile, formidable entity with a deep protective instinct for those he considered family. His teeth would be as hard as steel, his fur able to bristle into defensive spikes under threat, shimmering with a metallic sheen under starlight. A rare species, highly sought after... but above all, a species that chose only once in its lifetime.

And Blue had chosen Evelyn.

Vykhor stayed silent after the reading, his gaze fixed on the sleeping feline nestled in Evelyn’s arms.

"So... you’re not just a noisy plush toy," he murmured, almost admiringly. Then he stood and crossed his arms. "As long as you keep her happy, you can stay."

And Blue, as if he understood, opened one eye... and purred.

Then Evelyn turned back to Vykhor, curiosity lighting up her eyes in the low light of the common room. "Vykhor... Will you tell me what My’Lari means?"

The Kael’tarien, methodically cleaning one of his weapons, slowly lifted his gaze to her. A faint smile curled his lips, one of those rare smiles that always threw her off balance—especially when it was just for her.

"It’s been days since we left Iskaara, My’Lari. And you’re only asking now?" he replied, his voice low with a hint of amused irony.

Evelyn blushed, looking down at the mug in her hands. She wanted to say something clever, something quick and logical... but nothing came. How could she explain that she hadn’t dared to ask? That every time he whispered that word against her skin, it wasn’t just her mind that melted—but something deeper, more instinctive... more fragile.

Blue’s arrival hadn’t erased that growing ache. Every night, she fell asleep in Vykhor’s arms, his steady breath grounding her like an anchor in the ocean of new emotions. But that one word, repeated with such certainty and softness, still made her shiver. My’Lari. It felt intimate. Loaded. And she needed to understand it.

But Vykhor, who knew her now as well as she knew herself—maybe even better—seemed to read her thoughts. He calmly set down his weapon, stepped toward her, and placed two fingers under her chin to lift her gaze to his.

"No, My’Lari. I won’t tell you what it means," he said softly, but with unshakable resolve. "I want you to discover it yourself."

Silence fell between them, thick with everything unspoken. Evelyn blinked, torn between disappointment and a strange sense of understanding.

"Oh," she breathed.

Maybe he was right. Maybe the meaning of that word wasn’t something to be handed over with a tidy explanation. Maybe it was part of the journey. Their journey. Toward something deeper. Toward an intimacy that went beyond language.

But as she looked away slightly, Vykhor frowned. He knew that little tilt of her head, that blink. And more than anything, he knew Evelyn. Her hyper-efficient brain was already calculating workarounds.

He sighed, straightened up, and said with a tired but firm voice: "Kryna, I forbid you to give Evelyn the answer. You can offer clues... guidance. But she has to find the meaning of My’Lari on her own."

A soft crackle echoed through the ship, and Kryna’s familiar voice chimed in, laced with amusement. "Understood, Captain. No spoilers. Just... breadcrumbs."

Evelyn let out a groan of mixed frustration and surrender.

Vykhor stepped closer and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. "You’re brilliant, Evelyn. You’ll know when you’re ready to understand."

And in his golden gaze, there was something else. A flicker of restrained emotion. A truth he wasn’t ready to say out loud yet—but one that already burned through his gestures, his glances... and that word he’d chosen just for her.

My’Lari.