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Aloy didn’t sleep that night. She knew she should, knew rest would bring her skill, let all those sharpened edges shine through at the Proving. I’m better than the rest, she thought, and yet if she considered that too long she’d begin to contemplate all the ways that might go wrong.
She’d win a fair test. Or many unfair ones. But how much extra weight might she have to carry?
Then she was tugged from her thoughts by the gentle sound of footsteps beside her, careful enough the others wouldn’t hear. Loud enough to ensure no pretense of sneaking up on her.
She turned in the bed, twisted, and was unsurprised to see Vala’s hand stretched toward her, a shadow among the shadows with a warm glint in her eyes.
“Thought you might not sleep,” Vala said, taking advantage of Aloy’s movement to sit down on the edge of the narrow bed. “Don’t let the others get to you.”
Aloy couldn’t be sure what to make of that, not then. Vala was clever enough to note Aloy as a challenger, but had also been clear about her intent to win. Said it with such pride; Vala had no shortage of that.
“Just you?” Aloy said, which wasn’t quite an answer.
“I thought I might wish you luck.”
Aloy jerked upright at that. The bed didn’t creak. Small mercies. “I won’t turn it down.” A bruise to her pride, perhaps. And yet how easy it was to want.
Vala leaned in a little further and it was the gentlest of kisses, lips brushed together, a faint touch of warmth compared to the bright burning heat beneath the blankets. Too brief for even the movement of breath to hint at the wet mouth behind and—
Suddenly Aloy wanted luck more than anything.