There it was. The pained tightening of her eyes, the tragic dip of her shoulders. She was how he would restore his status. She was how he would vault out of the lowly ranks of Aric’s Bullets to something with real power. And when she ordered him to his feet, removed all of his weapons but two, and still did not kill him, he knew his plea for mercy had taken root.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The frown that bent her lips brought a smile to his. There was something magnetic about this girl. Something so vibrant he didn’t want to look away. The dark night was powerless against the constant burning of that hair, and he thought touching it must feel like caressing the sun.

“How about I call you Bale Blossom, then? Seems fitting.”

“Call me whatever you like,” the girl answered, unable to muzzle the spark of a smile. “I still won’t give you my name.”

He didn’t need her name. He needed her ship. But first, he needed something else.

“You don’t trust me. There’s no reason you should, but I’m going to show you why you can.”

Carefully, he reached inside his vest and removed one of two slender push daggers, holding it out to her hilt first. She snatched it, horror widening her eyes as she quickly tucked it into her belt.

“How’s that for trust, Bale Blossom?”

“No one trusts a Bullet.” Her aim faltered as a crucial piece of her resolve was chipped away. “But maybe I can help.”

“Are you going to take me to your crew?”

The hope that shot through him died just as quickly as she answered, “No, but I’m not going to shoot you.”

He was so close. All he needed was for this girl to believe he wanted nothing from her. One small push.

“You should leave,” he told her. “Go back to your ship. Get out of here. I’ll hide or I’ll die, but I’ll do it under my own sail.”

There. Her eyes shifted to a spot just southwest of where they stood now. Without meaning to, she’d revealed her ship.

“Do you know what we call this moon?” he asked as a dizzying wash of excitement settled over him.

“There is no moon tonight.” Bale Blossom’s answer was assured and defensive, as though some part of her recognized that she was about to surrender.

“It’s the Nascent Moon. It’s a time of potential and growth. A promise for things to come.” He raised his hand to the pale moon of her cheek and slid his fingers into her hair, delighted at her gasp of surprise. “It’s the moon of beginnings and endings.”