The Star-Jumper was silent save for the ever-present, soft hum of its systems. Marc stood in the doorway of the small quarters they had given Lira, his arms crossed, leaning against the frame. The girl was asleep on a cot, a thin thermal blanket pulled up to her chin. In the dim light, the silver of her eyes was hidden, and she looked... small. Not a fugitive, not a key to a conspiracy. Just a kid.
A strange, hollow feeling settled in Marc's chest. It wasn't pity. It was something sharper, more personal. He looked at her, really looked, and for the first time, he let himself wonder. What would his life have been like if Eron Thorne had never taken him? If he had grown up in that house with a mother and a father? If he had known Lucian not as an enemy to be broken, but as a little brother to tease and protect? If he had been there to see Lucy grow up?
