The next two days aboard the Argosy passed in a rhythm that was both utterly alien and strangely comforting. Lily fell into a routine of sorts: waking to the scent of synthesized coffee, spending mornings in the arboretum with Zark, her "perception" training becoming increasingly focused and intense, afternoons studying Xylarian language and culture with Cinder's holographic guidance, and evenings... evenings were hers. Sometimes she spent them in her suite, staring at the stars until her eyes ached. Sometimes Zark would join her, and they would sit in a silence that was no longer awkward, but charged with unspoken understanding.
Her new sight was a blessing and a curse. She could now see the Argosy not as a ship, but as a symphony of energy—the pulsing blue veins of power in the walls, the intricate golden web of the life support, the fierce, contained sun that was the engine core. She could see Zark's own energy field, a magnificent, complex aurora of silver and gold that shifted with his mood, calming to soft blues when he was deep in thought, flaring with crimson edges when he reviewed reports of Vrax's encroachments on his trade lanes. It was beautiful, but overwhelming. Headaches became a frequent companion, a sharp price for her expanding consciousness.
Today's lesson was different. They weren't in the arboretum. Zark led her to a part of the ship she hadn't seen: a spherical chamber he called the "Resonance Atrium." It was empty, its walls a flawless white that emitted a soft, omnidirectional light.
"Perception is the first step," Zark said, standing in the center of the sphere. He had foregone his tunic, wearing only loose trousers, his torso bare. The sight of him—the powerful lines of his body, the faint, ever-present shimmer just beneath his skin—was distracting in a way that had nothing to do with energy signatures. "Today, we begin interaction. A Conduit does not merely see the song of the universe. She learns to hum along."
"Interaction?" Lily asked, her mouth dry. "You mean… manipulate energy? Like you do?"
"In a manner of speaking. Your way will be different. Less a manipulation, more… an invitation. An alignment." He held out his hand, palm up. A tiny, perfect orb of golden light kindled above it, spinning lazily. "I create. I impose my will upon the quantum field. You… you will persuade."
He closed his fist, extinguishing the light. "Close your eyes. Feel the energy of this room. Not with your new sight. Feel it in your body. The hum of the ship's systems. The flow of recycled air. The latent static in the field between us."
Lily closed her eyes, trying to quiet the constant, analytical chatter in her mind. She felt the subtle vibration in the soles of her feet. She felt the slight prickle on her skin from the purified air. And she felt… him. A warmth, a presence, a low, resonant frequency that seemed to vibrate in her own chest, a tuning fork finding its match.
"Good," his voice was a murmur, seeming to come from inside her own head. "Now, find a single point of energy. The smallest you can isolate. A photon trapped in the wall matrix. A wandering electron in the air. Call to it."
Call to it? How did one call to an electron? She focused on the feeling of him, using his stable, powerful frequency as an anchor. Then, tentatively, she cast her awareness outward, not to see, but to feel. She imagined her consciousness as a gentle net, floating in the sea of energy around her.
For long minutes, nothing. Frustration bubbled up. Then, she felt it—a tiny, skittish, brilliant point of… being. It wasn't visual. It was a sensation of pure potential, a minuscule star of possibility. It flitted at the edge of her awareness.
Hello, she thought at it, not with words, but with a feeling of curiosity, of welcome.
It paused.
She poured more feeling into her mental touch: warmth, safety, an invitation to dance.
The point of energy—the photon, the electron, she didn't know—drifted closer. It was responding not to a command, but to the emotional resonance she projected.
"You have it," Zark breathed, awe in his tone. "Now, gently… ask it to show itself."
Lily imagined a tiny spark of light in the darkness behind her eyelids. She held the image, paired with the feeling of welcome.
A soft, silver pinprick of light appeared in the air before her. She felt it through her closed lids. She opened her eyes.
It was there. Hovering between her and Zark. A mote of pure, self-contained light, no bigger than a dust particle, pulsing gently in time with her heartbeat.
Tears of sheer, stunned joy welled in her eyes. "I… I didn't make it. I asked it to come."
"And it answered," Zark said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't name. He was looking at the light, then at her, his starry eyes wide. "Do you understand? This is what the legends speak of. Xylarians command. We are architects. You… you are a diplomat. You treat with the universe."
The tiny light danced, weaving a lazy pattern in the air. Lily laughed, a sound of pure delight that echoed in the spherical chamber. The light brightened in response.
Then, the door chime sounded, a harsh, discordant note in the sacred space. The tiny light winked out, as if startled.
Zark's face hardened. "Enter."
The door slid open. Cinder's holographic form appeared, her usual serenity replaced by a tense alertness. "Overseer. A priority communiqué has broken through the stealth protocols. It is from your Second, Kaelen, on Xylar. He sends a crisis cipher."
The warmth of the moment vanished, replaced by the cold vacuum of reality. Zark's energy field, which had been a calm, golden aurora, spiked with jagged bolts of crimson anxiety. "Put it through here. Audio only."
A new voice filled the Resonance Atrium—masculine, strained, speaking in a language of clicking consonants and melodic vowels that was Xylarian. Lily didn't understand the words, but she understood the tone: urgent, fearful, warning.
Zark listened, his expression turning to stone. He replied in the same language, his voice clipped, authoritative. The exchange lasted less than a minute. When it ended, the silence was heavier than before.
"What is it?" Lily asked, her own joy extinguished.
Zark turned to her, and for the first time, she saw true worry in his eyes. "Vrax has moved faster than I anticipated. He has used the incident on Earth and my subsequent disappearance to call an emergency session of the Galactic Trade Council. He is petitioning to have me declared mentally unfit, my assets frozen, and my position as Overseer revoked, citing 'erratic behavior and consorting with primitive species to the detriment of Xylarian security.'"
The corporate war had reached the boardroom. "Can he do that?"
"He has evidence. Sensor logs of my crash, likely doctored to show I was fleeing combat, not sabotaged. Records of energy discharges on Earth. And… he has eyewitness testimony."
"Eyewitness?"
"From your planet. Someone who saw the 'fight' at the observatory and is willing to speak to the 'unstable alien' in their midst." Zark's jaw tightened. "My Second believes it is the male from the gathering. Derek. The one with the scanner."
Lily's blood ran cold. Derek. Chloe's stepfather's partner. Of course. He would sell anything for profit or power.
"The Council convenes in 48 hours, Xylar time. We must be there. I must face the charges. But…" He looked at her, the conflict plain on his face. "To bring you now, into that viper's nest, with Vrax waiting… it is the most dangerous place in the galaxy for you."
"And if you go without me?" Lily asked, already knowing the answer.
"You remain here, with Cinder. Safe, hidden. But alone. And if I fail, if Vrax gains control of my House and my assets, his first order will be a sector-wide hunt for this ship and its 'primitive cargo.' The Argosy is formidable, but it cannot outrun the entire Xylarian fleet indefinitely."
Two terrible choices. Face the lion in its den, or wait for the lion to hunt you down.
Lily walked to the center of the sphere, to where the tiny light had been. She could still feel the echo of its joy, its trust. She had asked the universe for a spark, and it had answered. She had asked Zark for trust, and he had given it. She had leapt into the stars.
She was done hiding.
She turned to face him, squaring her shoulders. "I'm going with you."
"Lily—"
"No. You said we were partners. A Conduit and her Sentinel. The Sentinel doesn't go into battle while the Conduit hides in a closet. Besides," she managed a weak smile, "I'm your 'cultural scholar from Earth,' remember? What kind of scholar would miss the chance to observe a Xylarian High Council in session? It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
He stared at her, his energy field churning with conflict—protective fear warring with fierce, blazing pride. He closed the distance between them in two strides. He didn't touch her, but his presence was a physical force.
"It will not be a gathering like your sister's. It will be a battlefield. Every word, every glance, will be a weapon. Vrax will be there. He will see you. He will want you."
"Then you'll have to make sure he knows he can't have me," Lily said, holding his gaze. "You told me to trust my sight. I see this. I see us. Together. That's the path."
For a long moment, he searched her face, as if reading her energy signature, her resolve. Finally, the turmoil in his field settled into a steely, determined calm. The protective fear was still there, but it was now channeled into a razor-sharp focus.
"Very well," he said, his voice a vow. "We go together. But we go prepared. Cinder."
"Yes, Overseer?"
"Re-route all power to the motivators. Maximum safe velocity. Plot the fastest course to Xylar Prime. And bring up the schematics for the Vex family vaults. We have a wardrobe to prepare."
The next 36 hours were a whirlwind. The Argosy thrummed with a new, powerful energy as it cut through subspace. Lily's training shifted from theory to brutal, practical crash-courses in Xylarian etiquette, political factions, and the specific, venomous history between House Vex and House Vrax.
Cinder, in her element, became a drill sergeant. "You will not make direct eye contact with a Council Elder unless spoken to. The proper greeting for a Trade Baron is a shallow bow, right hand over your heart, as the heart is the seat of energy in Xylarian philosophy. Never, under any circumstances, accept a drink from Vrax or any of his known allies. The molecular poison is odorless, tasteless, and mimics a sudden stroke in humans."
Through it all, Zark was a constant, steadying presence. He translated the dry history into personal stories, explained the complex energy-politics in terms she could grasp. He was preparing her not just to survive, but to understand the world he came from.
The day before their arrival, he brought her to a new room—a wardrobe. Racks held garments that took Lily's breath away. Gowns that seemed woven from solidified nebula, shifting in color. Suits of a material that looked like liquid obsidian. Jewels that weren't gems, but contained, miniature energy fields, pulsing with soft light.
"On Xylar, appearance is not vanity. It is a statement of power, of House allegiance, of personal energy mastery," Zark explained. He gestured to a gown the color of a deep space nebula, with threads of silver like distant stars. "This is from the vaults of my mother. She was a renowned energy-artisan. It is… protective. The weave contains harmonic dampeners and energy-diffusion threads. It will make direct neural scanning difficult and will subtly deflect low-grade hostile intent."
He was aroring her. Not with a weapon, but with a dress.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Lily whispered.
"It is a tool," he said, but his eyes softened. "And it will suit you."
The final preparation was the most intimate. In the privacy of her suite, Zark presented her with a necklace. It was a simple, platinum chain holding a single, teardrop-shaped crystal that swirled with a captured, miniature aurora.
"This is a personal null-shield generator," he said, his voice low. He moved behind her to fasten it. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, sending a shiver through her. "If you feel threatened, if you are separated from me, press the crystal twice. It will create a short-term stasis bubble around you, impenetrable to most forms of attack. It will also send a distress pulse directly to my neural implant."
He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. His expression was grave. "Do not hesitate to use it. Promise me."
"I promise," she said.
He didn't let go. The air between them crackled with the unspoken weight of tomorrow. The political battle, the danger, the unknown—it all paled in the face of the tension that had been building since the dance, since the touch in the forest, since the kiss on her forehead.
"Zark…" she began, not knowing what she wanted to say.
"I know," he murmured. His starry eyes traced her features—her eyes, her nose, her lips. His thumbs stroked the hollows of her collarbones. "When this is over… when we are safe… there is something I must tell you. Something I should have said when I first saw you under the stars of your world."
"Tell me now," she breathed.
He shook his head, a pained, beautiful smile touching his lips. "No. Not here. Not on the eve of battle. It deserves… peace. And starlight. Not the shadow of Vrax." He leaned in, and for a second, she was sure he would finally bridge the last, breathless inch between them.
Instead, he rested his forehead against hers, a gesture that was becoming their own silent language. She felt the hum of his energy, the warmth of his skin, the restrained power in his stillness. It was more intimate than any kiss could have been.
"Rest, Lily," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers. "Tomorrow, we face my world."
He left her then, the ghost of his touch and the weight of the necklace against her skin. Lily stood in the middle of her starlit suite, dressed for a war she didn't fully understand, her heart pounding not with fear, but with a fierce, defiant love for the alien prince who had crashed into her life and was now trusting her with his kingdom.
She wasn't an astronomy enthusiast anymore. She wasn't just a Conduit.
She was Lily of House Vex. And tomorrow, she would walk into the gilded cage of starlight, on the arm of its king.