The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Hold Me Tight

Aug
14

“Isot?”

He hmmmed in response as he slid into bed, weariness making him slow and a little clumsy. It had been a long day of interviews with military and queen.

Ahure waited quietly. When at last his arm came around her, “What did they say?”

He’d asked to join the home guard—her post. His ship body was still strong despite five years of cold space and only what maintenance he could do in total isolation.

At the memory of emptiness, he shuddered.

Her grip tightened, grounding him, not empty anymore.

It gave him strength to answer.

“They said yes.”

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