Sweet Starfire

her hotel room. She was tired, but the adrenaline was still flowing through her system. Through the cabin window she could see the white disc of Lovelady’s single moon, Gigolo. That small, dead world was also shining on Lovelady’s southern town of Clementia. Her home was a serene, protected landscape of beauty and order. There lay everything she understood and loved. For a moment her heart yearned for another glimpse of the delicate fountains and the formal gardens that lined the white stone paths. But she had never been truly a citizen of Clementia. The magic of it had been denied her, even though she had been raised in its midst and taught its ways. Her own shortcomings had been pointed out quite graphically this evening.
    Severance finished one last procedure at the command console and then swung around in his seat to face her.
    “You look exhausted. Maybe you’d better grab a nap before we reach Lovelorn.”
    “I couldn’t possibly sleep.”
    “Still seeing Scates coming at you?” he asked gruffly. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”
    “It’s not that.” She glanced out into the darkness and then back at Severance. “Do you realize that tonight was the first time in my life I’ve done violence to another human being?”
    “You’ve led a sheltered life.”
    “It’s not funny, Severance.”
    He sighed. “I know. But it’s not the end of the universe, either.”
    “Perhaps not, but it worries me.”
    “Listen, Cidra, you want to worry? Worry about what would have happened if you hadn’t had all that fancy Moonlight and Mirrors training. Now that’s something to fret about.”
    “You don’t understand,” she snapped. “I should be begging for a shot of oblivo. I should be flat out on the floor, half catatonic.”
    “And instead you’re just sitting there shaking like a leaf?”
    “Don’t laugh at me, Teague Severance.” She was near tears now, and the knowledge infuriated her. Quickly she used her years of training to regain her self-control. “I want to be one of them. All my life I have been trained in the ways of the Serene path. Surely I have some Harmonic sensitivity in me. I was born to Harmonics. Yet tonight I used the ways of a beautiful dance to hurt someone else.”
    “Who was trying to hurt you. It’s called self-defense, Cidra, and I know enough about Harmonics to know that they’re not philosophically opposed to self-defense. They’re just lousy at being able to act on that belief. Be damned grateful that your only problem right now is that you’ve got the jitters instead of a full-scale anxiety attack. I’ve seen what happens to a Harmonic who runs into real violence and it’s not very pleasant.”
    She eyed him curiously. “When did you see a Harmonic deal with genuine violence?”
    Severance ran a hand through his thick black hair, his face drawn, gray eyes suddenly bleak. “My brother was one of those random occurrences you mentioned earlier. A Harmonic born among Wolves.”
    “Why wasn’t he sent to Clementia?” she asked, frowning.
    “It’s a long story, and I’m not in the mood to tell it right now. Take a nap, Cidra.”
    “I don’t think I can sleep yet.”
    “Suit yourself. I’m going to sack out for a few minutes. It’s been a long night.”
    Severance got to his feet and brushed past her, heading for the sleeping area at the rear of the cabin. He unlatched the upper sleeping berth so that she could climb into it if she changed her mind, and then he threw himself down onto the lower bunk. He was already half asleep when he felt Fred undulating up onto the bed to drape himself over his master’s feet.
    Severance awoke once during the flight and realized that Cidra hadn’t tried to nap. He peered through the gloom of the dimly lit cabin and saw her seated cross-legged on the metal deck. Her eyes were closed in silent meditation.
    Probably still worrying about Scates and how she’d handled the situation, Severance reasoned in sleepy irritation. She looked very soft and gentle sitting there with her black-and-silver gown flowing around her. A little lost. But it would have taken a fair measure of strength and coordination to throw Scates. She couldn’t be all sweetness and light, even if she wanted to believe she was.
    Beneath the fine crystal-moss fabric of the robe she wore, he could see the rounded upsweep of her breasts. It seemed to him that the womanly curves would fit his hands perfectly. Then he recalled what she’d said about