Astra nodded, repeating it to herself a few times. “Common, Solar Elvish, Mercurian, Jovian… how many other languages do you speak, Commander?”
“I think that’s the list. Well, and Earthen, of course.”
“See? You don’t like my silent conversations with Ameera, but you could easily speak about me with my father and I’d have no idea.”
“And I have,” Luxuros laughed.
She frowned but quickly realized her own hypocrisy. “One’s own medicine is always quite bitter, isn’t it?”
Luxuros sank onto the bench along the foot of his bed, the other end piled with a perfectly neat stack of his clothes. He ran a hand through his hair, a single gray tendril popping out from his temple Astra hadn’t noticed before. It shimmered in the low light.
“How old are you, Luxuros?”
He frowned as his eyes narrowed. “Are you judging my streak?”
Astra giggled, embarrassed that she’d been so blatant. “Perhaps.”
He groaned, stretching his neck. “Well, I’ve aged about a decade since meeting you.”
“Oh, come on now, Commander, we were getting along for once!”
He turned his amber gaze to hers, a solemn stillness settling between them she wasn’t sure how to interpret. “I don’t know exactly how old I am, Astra,” he said.
“Ah,” she whispered. “Of course. I’m so sorry?—”
“I’m not quite forty, I don’t think. But not far from it if my back is any indication.”
“A man of many mysteries.”
Luxuros shrugged. “Yes, well. Good evening, Astra.”
“Goodnight,” she said, backing out of the doorway, too self-conscious to turn around and walk out.
The paintings on the walls watched them, rippling at their edges as she waded through the dream version of her father’s room.
“I wish you’d tell me a secret,” Astra said, crossing the room as he stood from the bench.
“Trust me,” he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, closing her off from him. “You don’t.”
“Just one?”
Luxuros shook his head, the low torchlight reflecting off that pale streak.
“And you say I’m stubborn.”
“Please,” he laughed. “Between the two of us, it’s no competition.”
“Sure, sure,” she mused, circling him. Here, without her control over it, he was warmer, though much less unpleasant than before. “Keep your secrets.”
“I will,” he huffed as she stopped in front of him. She couldn’t help it. Her hand reached up of its own accord, drifting toward the silvery slip of hair behind his ear.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped as he pulled away. “I just—I wondered?—”
Luxuros glared. “If it was cooler than the rest of me?”
“Yes!” It felt so childish to admit. “It sounds stupid out loud.”
“Well,” the commander backed another step away. “Was it?”
