Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Apparently lost in thought, Baylin’s fingers brushed one of Violet’s leaves, and Liora forgot how to breathe.
It was such a small thing—a casual touch, barely more than a passing glance from his callused hand.
But she’d spent three years trying for a successful hybrid, had whispered her hopes and frustrations to its unfurling tendrils, had celebrated alone when the first deep purple leaves finally unfurled.
No one else had ever touched it. No one else had ever been here to touch anything.
“The color is unusual,” he said, studying the leaves. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“That’s also from the light manipulation.
” Her voice came out higher than she intended, and she cleared her throat.
“The blue-shifted spectrum affects the pigment production. I documented the whole process in my research journal—there are seventeen variables that influence the final color, and I had to isolate each one individually before I could—”
She stopped, heat flooding her cheeks. I’m rambling. He doesn’t want to hear about my seventeen variables.
But when she risked a glance at his face, he wasn’t looking bored or impatient. He was looking at her, those intense green eyes focused with an attention that made her stomach do something strange and fluttery.
“Seventeen variables,” he repeated. “How long did that take?”
“Three years for the first successful hybrid. Another two to refine the color.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly aware of how wild it must look after the hectic day. “Ari says I have an obsessive personality. I prefer to call it thorough.”
His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. “Thorough is admirable.”
The flutter in her stomach intensified. She turned away, pretending to check on a nearby tray of seedlings, and tried to remember how to arrange her face normally.
This was ridiculous. She’d read about attraction in her psychology texts, understood the biological mechanisms—increased heart rate, heightened sensory awareness, the release of dopamine and norepinephrine.
The body’s primitive response to a suitable mate.
A suitable mate.
The thought sent heat rushing to places she didn’t want to think about, not with him standing right there, close enough that she could smell him. He smelled like the jungle—green and wild and alive—mixed with something warmer underneath..
“You’ve done all of this yourself?” he asked, gesturing at the rows of experiments stretching towards the glass dome. “No assistance?”
“Ari helps with data analysis and environmental controls. But the actual work—planting, pruning, observing—that’s all me.” She straightened a label that didn’t need straightening. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”
The words came out more bitterly than she’d intended. She heard them hanging in the air between them and wished she could snatch them back.
“Liora.”
Something in his voice made her turn. He’d moved closer and was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Concern, maybe. Or anger, although not directed at her.
“Why have you stayed here?” he asked. “In all these years, you’ve never tried to leave?”
“I—” She faltered, wrong-footed by the question. “Where would I go? I don’t know anything about the outside world. I wouldn’t survive a day in that jungle.”
“You could learn. People adapt.”
“It is not that simple.” ARIS’s voice emerged from the speakers embedded in the greenhouse walls, as calm and measured as always. “My directive is to protect the child. The world outside is not safe.”
His jaw tightened. She watched the muscles flex beneath his scarred skin and felt a strange urge to stroke his jaw, to smooth away whatever tension had gathered there.
“She’s not a child,” he snapped. “She’s a grown female.”
“Liora will always be my charge. Her safety is my primary function, and that function does not change based on chronological age. The threats outside this tower remain constant regardless of how many years have passed.”
“What threats, specifically?”
“Numerous.” ARIS’s tone remained pleasant and informative.
“Environmental hazards including toxic flora, venomous fauna, and unstable terrain. Pathogenic organisms against which Liora has no acquired immunity. Predatory wildlife capable of killing trained warriors, let alone an untrained civilian. And—” A slight pause, almost imperceptible.
“—individuals who might seek to exploit Liora’s unique biological properties for their own purposes. ”
His expression darkened further. “So you’ve kept her locked in a tower for twenty-one years because the world is dangerous.”
“I have kept her alive for twenty-one years. The distinction is not trivial.”
“The distinction is everything.” His voice had gone quiet and controlled, but she could hear something dangerous underneath. “You’ve denied her every experience, every connection, every chance to live an actual life—”
“I don’t understand.”
The words escaped before she could stop them. Both Baylin and ARIS fell silent, turning their attention to her—one with green eyes full of suppressed fury, the other with the sensors she’d felt watching her whole life.
“You’re angry,” she said to him, trying to work through the confusion tangling her thoughts. “But I don’t understand why. Ari has taken care of me since I was an infant. It’s educated me, fed me, kept me healthy, and given me everything I needed. The tower isn’t a prison—it’s my home.”
“Liora—”
“The world outside is dangerous. I’ve read about it.
I’ve seen the predators from my observation window and watched them hunt and kill.
I know what would happen if I tried to walk through that jungle alone.
” She pressed her hands together, aware that her voice was rising but unable to stop it.
“Ari only has my best interests in mind. It always has. That’s what it was designed for. ”
He stared at her for a long moment. The anger didn’t fade exactly, but it shifted into something different. Sadness, maybe. Or resignation.
“You believe that,” he said finally. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course I believe it. It’s true.” Even though she was annoyed about being kept in the dark, she still believed that ARIS had her best interests in mind.
“Liora’s trust is not misplaced,” ARIS interjected.
“I have maintained optimal conditions for her physical and psychological wellbeing for her entire life. My protocols are designed to maximize her safety while providing appropriate stimulation and growth opportunities. I am not her enemy, Baylin of the Vultor. I am her guardian.”
His jaw tightened again. “Guardians prepare their charges to face the world. They don’t hide them from it forever.”
“The circumstances of Liora’s situation are unique. Standard approaches are not applicable.”
“How convenient.”
The words dripped with contempt, and she found herself stepping between him and the nearest speaker, as if she could physically defend ARIS from his anger.
“Stop,” she said. “Please. I don’t want you to fight.”
His eyes dropped to her face. The fury was still there, banked but present, and yet when he looked at her, it softened into something else. Something that made that flutter return, stronger than before.
“I’m not fighting with an AI,” he said quietly. “I’m just... trying to understand.”
“What is there to understand? Ari protects me. That’s its purpose. That’s what it does.”
“And you’ve never wanted more? Never looked out those windows and wished you could experience what you see?”
Every day, she thought. Every single day for as long as I can remember.
But she couldn’t say that. Not with ARIS listening, not when it would sound like a betrayal of everything the AI had done for her. Instead, she turned away, moving towards a bench covered with pruning tools and seed packets, needing something to do with her hands.
“Wanting things doesn’t mean we should have them,” she said. “I want to walk on the beach. I want to swim in the ocean. I want to see a sunrise from the forest floor instead of from behind glass. But wanting those things doesn’t make them safe.”
“Wanting those things makes you human.”
She picked up a pair of shears, turning them over in her fingers. The metal was warm from the greenhouse heat, familiar in her grip. She’d held these shears a thousand times. She knew their weight, their balance, the exact pressure needed to make a clean cut.
She didn’t know anything about the male behind her. Not really. He’d walked into her world mere hours ago, and already he was making her question everything she’d accepted as truth. But still...
“You should stay.”
The words surprised her—surprised them both, judging by the sharp intake of breath from behind her. She turned to find him watching her with that intense, unreadable expression.
“Stay?” he repeated.
“For a while. A few days, at least.” She set down the shears, wiping her palms on her skirt.
Her heart was racing, and she couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or anticipation.
“I’ve never... I’ve never really had the chance to talk to someone from outside.
Susan never told me much so I’ve never learned about the outside world from someone who’s actually lived in it.
Ari has taught me so much, but there are things you can only understand through experience, and I don’t have any. Experience, I mean. With people.”
I’m rambling again. Stop talking.
But she couldn’t seem to stop. The words kept spilling out, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to escape.
“I have so many questions. About the settlements, about your pack, about what it’s like to walk through the jungle and feel the ground under your feet.
About food that isn’t synthesized or grown in a greenhouse.
About... About everything. And you could tell me.
If you wanted. If you don’t have somewhere else to be. ”