Sweet Starfire

coffade.
    “So earnest and industrious,” he muttered as he sat down. The coffade tasted better than usual for some reason. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had to make it himself. “Give me some time, all right? I haven’t had an opportunity to really contemplate the situation. Everything’s happened a little fast since I met you on Lovelady.”
    She smiled, but he noticed she was having to make an effort to keep from staring at his bare chest. He blinked lazily, set down the mug with a small sigh of resignation, and reached into a bin for a loose, comfortable, wide-sleeved shirt he sometimes wore on board. He shrugged into it but didn’t bother to fasten the front seal. Cidra looked relieved.
    “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m not a prude, you understand. I have had courses in human anatomy. But Harmonics are generally quite formal in their attire. I’m accustomed to it.”
    “Yeah, I’m getting that impression. I warned you about the lack of privacy on board.”
    “Yes.” She concentrated on her food. “You did.”
    “Things on Renaissance are even more, uh, informal.”
    “I’m prepared for that.”
    Severance studied her for a moment, taking in the determined carriage of her head. She had her hair back up in the strict coronet, and he wondered how long it had taken her to do it. Her surplice was red, embroidered at hem and cuffs and throat with a delicate purple floss. She was a note of color and restrained elegance against the general gray backdrop of the ship. Quite suddenly he was intensely curious about her.
    “What’s going to happen if and when you find your magic artifact, Cidra?”
    She frowned. “It’s not magic. When I find it, I’m sure I will also find a perfectly good scientific explanation for how it works.”
    He held up a hand. “Sorry. No magic, then. Your scientifically explainable artifact. What will you do with it?”
    “Go back to Clementia, naturally.”
    “Someone waiting there?”
    She glanced up, green eyes wary and quizzical. “My parents. My teachers. My friends.”
    “A lover?” He almost surprised himself with the question almost but not quite. The hard edge of his words told him more than he wanted to know about his own reasons for pushing in this particular direction. The color that surged into Cidra’s cheeks fascinated him.
    “That’s a very personal question, Severance.”
    “I know. I’m rude on occasion.” He finished his meal and tossed the empty prespac into the disposal unit. He was disgusted with himself.
    Cidra smiled tentatively. “I suppose it’s just another example of a Wolf’s natural interest in sex.”
    Severance regarded her laconically as he got to his feet and walked over to the control console. “You’re a Wolf, lady, whether you like it or not. Don’t you have any interest in the subject?”
    She quickly cleaned up the remains of the breakfast prespacs, avoiding his half accusing stare. “You must understand that for me a relationship with a man will be much different than it would be between two Wolves.”
    “There is a man back in Clementia, isn’t there? A Saint.” He leaned against the console, irritated by the way she was sidestepping the subject.
    Cidra turned to face him with quiet reproach. “There is a man,” she began very carefully, “but I am not ready for him.”
    “He thinks he’s too good for you because he’s a Harmonic and you’re not?”
    She shook her head. “Mercer would never think such a thing. He is a brilliant, kind, intuitive man. A fine Harmonic who has been both teacher and friend to me. He is in charge of the Archive where I work. I have never told him that I would like the relationship to become more… more intimate. I would not burden him with that knowledge until I can come to him as a true Harmonic.”
    “You’ve just stood in the shadows, pining from afar, is that it? For how long?” Severance didn’t even bother to soften the words.
    “Three and a half seasons,” Cidra admitted wistfully. “We have so much in common intellectually that I just know things will harmonize beautifully between us once I have overcome the barrier of my non-Harmonic mind.”
    “I think I may get sick.”
    Instantly Cidra swept forward, concern marking her features. “You’re ill? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” She took his arm. “Lie down while I get the med kit. Here, I’ll help you to the bunk—”
    “You do take things literally, don’t you? Forget the med kit,