Chapter 69: Evelyn’s New Role

Blue lay under the table, purring softly, his head resting on Evelyn’s boots. He wasn’t eating. He was watching.

Zeynn took another bite and finally looked up.

“You cook better than the rationers back at the market, that’s for sure.”

Evelyn smiled, her hands wrapped around her cup. “You don’t have to eat so fast, you know. There’s plenty.”

Zeynn hesitated. Just for a second. Then he shrugged. “Habit. When you live out there, you learn fast that what’s yours might not be in ten seconds.”

Evelyn nodded and set her cup down.

“You’re not out there anymore. Not here. Not with us.”

Silence settled between them. Not heavy—dense. Blue lifted his head and stared at Zeynn for a moment, as if to echo his mistress’s words.

Zeynn studied Evelyn more closely. He barely knew her. She was calm, gentle, a little odd sometimes, with eyes that always seemed to look past the present moment. But he could tell she was being honest.

And he could feel what she wasn’t saying.

She was worried about him.

Not like a commander worries about a soldier. No. There was something else. A thread, invisible but strong, woven between them since the day they met. She didn’t see him as a fighter. She saw a bruised kid who needed something solid to hold onto.

And that idea—crazy as it was—didn’t bother him at all.

Evelyn stood up, collected his empty bowl, and served him a second portion without a word.

That’s when Vykhor entered the mess, as imposing as ever, his shadow arriving a second before he did.

He took in the scene: Evelyn standing, attentive, Blue purring softly, and Zeynn… actually relaxing. A little.

He walked over, grabbed a cup, filled it with his bitter infusion, and sat down in silence.

Zeynn straightened up on instinct. Evelyn noticed.

She stepped over to Vykhor, laid a hand gently on his shoulder, and said softly:

“He doesn’t need a commander, Vykhor. Not yet. He needs a home.”

The Kael’tarien didn’t answer right away. He sipped his drink, glanced at Zeynn, then back at Evelyn.

“You take care of the home, My’Lari. I’ll make sure it stands.”

A compromise. In his own way.

Zeynn smiled into his bowl.

Maybe this ship was more than a vessel.

Maybe it was a nest.

**The Next Day**

The morning echoed with punches and grunts. Vykhor had dragged Zeynn through a brutal, methodical training session, blending physical drills with agility tests. Meanwhile, Evelyn had stayed in their shared quarters, turned into a mini knowledge hub, accompanied by Kryna and Blue curled at her feet, purring in approval. She spent the time compiling exercises for the upcoming lesson. Preparing lessons thrilled her more than she wanted to admit.

When Zeynn stepped in, still dripping with sweat and a towel around his neck, he groaned at the sight of the screen filled with symbols.

“Seriously? I just barely survived Vykhor. Now you wanna finish me off?”

Evelyn smiled, sweet but merciless. “This isn’t punishment, Zeynn. It’s freedom. Learning to read and write in Luthien means you’ll understand contracts, decode systems, use the networks, or read encrypted messages. You want to be a mercenary, right? Or should I write your résumé every time you get a job?”

Zeynn grumbled but dragged a chair over and sat backward on it, arms resting on the back. Blue, sensing a new challenger, leapt onto the table and sprawled over the digital papers Evelyn had just activated.

“Blue, no!” Evelyn sighed.

The feline gave a dramatic meow, like he'd been personally insulted, then rolled onto his side, now covering two lines of blinking text.

Zeynn burst out laughing. “At least he knows how to stand up to you.”

“He’ll end up on your lap if he decides you’re boring,” Evelyn retorted, gently nudging Blue off the edge of the datapad. She turned her attention back to the screen. “Alright. Let’s start with your name. Here—‘Zeynn’ in Luthien. Five letters, simple phonetics, but two grammar rules.”

Zeynn raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking to me like I’m five cycles old.”

“That’s exactly the level you’re at in this subject,” she replied sweetly.

Kryna chimed in, her voice calm with a hint of amusement. “I can suggest an interactive voice recognition exercise to accelerate his progress.”

“You mean he speaks, and the system writes it in Luthien?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes. And if he fails…” Kryna simulated a growl through the speakers—Blue’s, unmistakably.

Zeynn rolled his eyes. “You’re all nuts on this ship.”

But he stayed. He listened. And more importantly—he learned.

**Later, in the Narak’Tharr’s Mess**

The mess echoed with rare calm. No urgent beeps, no tactical alerts, not even the usual background hum of the engines that most forgot over time. Just the soft scent of something simmering and the quiet clink of utensils.

Evelyn stirred the contents of a small pot on the modified cooking module, while Vykhor stood nearby with the intensity of a Kael’tarien sniper.

“You could sit, you know,” she said without looking up.

“You have a knife in your hand.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You say that like I’m going to stab myself.”

Vykhor growled softly. “Blades always betray.”

Zeynn, perched on a stool at the far end of the room, observed them with one eyebrow raised, a piece of bread in his mouth.

“I gotta say, it’s fascinating. I mean, you look like a war god ready to pulverize an army bare-handed, and here you are, watching your partner like that knife’s a primed grenade.”

Blue, curled up near the table, flicked an ear in their direction before yawning dramatically, paws crossed like a bored prince.

Vykhor didn’t respond immediately. He slowly uncrossed his arms, walked to the kitchen island, and grabbed a second knife. Without a word, he began slicing a root vegetable from Iskaara with surgical precision.

Evelyn watched him, amused. “You know you’re only doing that to make sure I don’t cut myself.”

“Exactly,” he replied without blinking.

Zeynn stretched lazily. “I don’t get this dynamic at all, but I kinda like it.”

Evelyn turned to him as the dish reached completion. “It’s normal. Vykhor isn’t someone you understand. He’s someone you get to know. Slowly. Quietly. Through his actions.”

The Kael’tarien placed the plates on the table without a word. But as Evelyn passed him, he brushed her waist with his fingers. A touch barely there—but full of meaning.

Zeynn noticed it, even though he pretended not to. He saw the way Vykhor watched her, like he was tracking the slightest tension in her shoulders. No sweet words. No whispered promises. Just unwavering presence.

The food was served, and for a fleeting moment, the Narak’Tharr wasn’t a warship. Not a battlefield. Just… a home. An improbable one—for damaged souls.

Zeynn bit into a caramelized root, then looked at Vykhor with a smirk.

“You do realize you’re completely screwed, right?”

Vykhor raised an eyebrow, bread in hand.

“If you keep talking with your mouth full, I’ll send you to clean the airlock panels with your bare hands.”

Zeynn laughed out loud.

Blue purred.

And Evelyn, in the hush that followed, knew one thing for certain.

She was exactly where she was meant to be.