Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The door to the library refused to open.
Liora stood on the landing, her hand still pressed against the access panel, watching the soft red glow pulse where green should have been. Behind her, Baylin waited with his characteristic patience, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Ari,” she said. “Open the door, please.”
“I apologize, Liora. The library is currently undergoing environmental recalibration. Access will be restored shortly.”
She frowned. “You didn’t mention any recalibration this morning.”
“The need arose unexpectedly.”
“What kind of recalibration?”
An almost imperceptible pause, but she’d spent twenty-one years learning ARIS’s rhythms. The AI was calculating.
“Humidity adjustment. The older texts require precise atmospheric conditions.”
“The humidity has been fine for years.”
“Conditions change.”
She glanced back at Baylin, who raised one dark eyebrow. He didn’t say anything—he rarely did when ARIS was involved—but his expression spoke volumes.
Again, that look said. Third time today.
She turned back to the panel. “Ari, I want to show Baylin the star maps in the archive section. The ones my father collected.”
“Perhaps tomorrow would be more suitable.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“The recalibration is extensive.”
“I don’t care. Open the door.”
Another pause, longer this time. Then the light flickered from red to green, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.
“Please be mindful of the environmental controls,” ARIS said. “They are... sensitive.”
She stepped through without acknowledging the warning. She’d spent countless hours in the library. Learning. Dreaming. Imagining worlds beyond the ones described on those pages.
Now she had one of those worlds standing beside her, and her AI seemed determined to keep them apart.
“The star maps are on the shelves on the back wall,” she said, leading him towards the relevant stacks. The lights in the back half of the library flickered off.
“Ari.”
“A minor power fluctuation. I am rerouting energy to more critical systems.”
“Turn the lights back on.”
“The front half of the room remains fully illuminated. Perhaps you could begin your exploration there.”
Her jaw tightened. This wasn’t the first time ARIS had played these games.
Over the past three days, the AI had found countless ways to restrict his access.
Doors that wouldn’t open. Lights that malfunctioned.
Entire sections that suddenly required “maintenance” or “recalibration” whenever he tried to enter them.
The first day, she’d dismissed it as coincidence. The second day, she’d been annoyed. Now, on the third day, with the back half of the library plunged into darkness while she stood at the front with a male the AI clearly didn’t trust...
She was angry.
“Turn on the lights,” she ordered, her voice meticulously controlled. “Now.”
A beat of silence.
Then the rear half flooded with warm illumination.
“Thank you,” she said, but the words felt hollow. She headed for the stacks without looking back, trusting him to follow.
The star maps were exactly where she remembered them—spread across a large viewing table near the northern window. Apparently her father had been a cartographer before he’d been... whatever else he’d been. The maps showed systems she’d never visited and planets she’d never seen.
Baylin studied them with the focused attention he gave to everything. His eyes moved methodically across the charts, cataloging details and filing away information. She’d noticed that about him. Nothing escaped his attention.
“Your father must have traveled extensively,” he said finally.
“I think so. Before he built this tower to keep me safe.”
“Did he ever plan to let you leave?”
The question hung between them. She had asked ARIS the same thing a thousand times. Despite its promise to reveal more, she’d only received the same variations of the same non-answer. The world outside is dangerous. Your father wished to protect you. The tower is your sanctuary.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Ari has never told me.”
“Perhaps ARIS doesn’t know.”
“Ari knows everything about this tower. Every system, every protocol, every directive my father programmed.” She looked up at him. “It knows if I can ever leave. It just won’t tell me.”
His expression shifted—a subtle tightening around his eyes that she’d learned to recognize as anger barely suppressed. He’d worn that expression often over the past few days, usually when ARIS was being particularly obstructive.
“You should ask again,” he said. “Demand answers. You have the right to know why you’ve been kept here.”
“I’ve asked. Hundreds of times.”
“Ask differently.” He moved closer, and her breath caught at his proximity.
Three days of sharing her bed with him—of falling asleep wrapped in his warmth, of waking to find him watching her with those intense green eyes—and she still wasn’t used to it.
She still felt that flutter in her chest every time he came near.
“You’re not a child anymore,” he added. “The AI was programmed to protect a child. But you’re a fully grown female now, and you deserve to make your own choices.”
A fully grown female. The words sent heat crawling up her neck. Yes, she was a woman now. She was increasingly, painfully aware of that fact every time he touched her. But he was still holding back, still giving her time she didn’t want.
“I’ll try,” she said. “But Ari is... stubborn.”
“So are you.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “When you want something badly enough.”
She did want something badly enough. That was becoming clearer with every passing hour.
She wanted out.
They put the charts away and descended the stairs. The kitchen access panel glowed red before Baylin could even reach for it.
“Really?” she said flatly. “The kitchen?”
“I apologize,” ARIS said calmly. “There appears to be a gas leak in the cooking area. I cannot permit entry until repairs are complete.”
“There’s no gas system in the kitchen. Everything runs on converted solar energy.”
A pause.
“I misspoke. An electrical issue has been detected.”
“Show me the diagnostic report.”
“The report is still being compiled.”
“Show me what you have.”
Another pause. “The diagnostics are... inconclusive.”
She slammed her palm against the wall. The sound echoed through the corridor, sharp and sudden, and he tensed beside her.
“Ari, this is ridiculous. You’ve been blocking us for three days. Every room, every section, every space in this tower where Baylin and I might spend time together—suddenly there’s a malfunction, or a recalibration, or some imaginary emergency. I’m not stupid. I know what you’re doing.”
“I am simply maintaining the tower’s systems.”
“You’re trying to keep us apart!”
Silence.
She stared at the access panel, her chest heaving with frustrated breaths. Beside her, he stood perfectly still, a wall of controlled tension.
“Ari,” she said. Quieter now, but no less firm. “Why don’t you want me to be with him?”
The AI’s response came slowly. Carefully. “My primary directive is your protection, Liora. I have analyzed the situation and determined that your increasing attachment to this visitor represents a potential risk.”
“A risk? What kind of risk?”
“Emotional dependency. Behavioral changes. A growing desire to abandon the safety of the tower in pursuit of experiences beyond its walls.”
Her heart lurched because ARIS was right. She did want to leave. The desire had been growing in her like a vine, wrapping around her thoughts, pulling her towards the world outside with an intensity she couldn’t ignore.
“That’s not your decision to make,” she said.
“It is my directive to prevent harm. Allowing you to develop attachments that could lead to dangerous choices falls within the scope of that directive.”
“Choices? You mean my choices?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “When have I ever been allowed to make choices, Ari? You decide when I wake, when I sleep, what I eat, and what I do. You control every aspect of my life. And now you want to control who I care about?”
“I want to keep you safe.”
“From what?” She stepped closer to the panel, as if proximity could force the truth from the AI’s circuits.
“What is out there that’s so terrible? What could possibly be worse than spending my entire life alone in a tower, never seeing anyone, never touching anyone, never knowing what it feels like to—”
She stopped. Her throat was tight, her eyes burning.
Never knowing what it feels like to be held.
She knew now. She knew because he had held her every night for three nights, and each time she’d woken in his arms, she’d understood a little more clearly what she’d been missing. What she’d been denied.
“Your father’s instructions were clear,” ARIS said. “The world outside is not safe for you.”
“Then why is Baylin safe? He came from outside. He’s survived out there for years. Why is it safe for him and not for me?”
“He is a Vultor warrior. His species is designed for survival in hostile environments. You are human. Your physiology is more vulnerable.”
“That’s not an answer. That’s an excuse.”
“It is the truth.”
“Then tell me the rest of the truth!” Her voice cracked. “Tell me what you’re really protecting me from. Tell me why my father built this tower. Tell me why I can never leave!”
The silence stretched. Seconds became minutes. Liora could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, could hear the harsh rasp of her own breathing.
Finally, ARIS spoke.
“I cannot provide that information. My protocols prevent full disclosure until certain conditions are met.”
“What conditions?”
“I am not permitted to specify.”
She screamed, a raw sound of frustration that tore from her throat and echoed through the corridor. She spun away from the panel, her hands fisting at her sides, her whole body trembling with impotent rage.
He caught her. His arms wrapped around her from behind, solid and warm and infinitely steady. She sagged against him, all the fight draining out of her at once, replaced by a weariness that went bone-deep.
“Breathe,” he murmured against her hair. “Just breathe.”
She breathed. In and out. In and out. His heartbeat thrummed against her back, slow and sure, an anchor in the storm of her emotions.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered.
“No. It isn’t.”
“I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be kept here like some... some specimen in a jar. I just want to live. I want to see things and do things and be free.”
His arms tightened. “I know.”
“Do you?” She turned in his embrace, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.
“Do you know what it’s like to want something so badly that it hurts?
To dream about it every night and wake up every morning still trapped in the same place, with the same walls, the same routine, the same endless, empty—”
He kissed her.
It wasn’t like the first kiss, gentle and exploratory.
It wasn’t like the kisses they’d shared in bed, slow and careful, always pulling back before things went too far.
This was hungry. Desperate. His mouth claimed hers with an intensity that made her head spin, his hands gripping her waist like he was afraid she might dissolve if he let go.
She kissed him back with everything she had. All her frustration, all her longing, all the years of isolation and loneliness poured into the press of her lips against his. She fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to climb inside him and never come out.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his forehead rested against hers.
“I know,” he said roughly. “I know exactly what that’s like.”
They made it into the kitchen eventually.
ARIS stopped blocking doors after her outburst—whether out of contrition or simply because the AI recognized it had pushed too far, she didn’t know. Either way, she found herself sitting at the wooden table, watching Baylin prepare a meal, her thoughts tangled in knots.
I want to leave.
The realization kept circling back, no matter how many times she tried to push it away.
She wanted to walk through that jungle. She wanted to feel the sea spray on her face, to walk barefoot on soft grass, and swim in water that went deeper than a bath.
She wanted to see cities with streets full of people, markets bursting with colors and smells she’d never experienced, and ships that could take her to other worlds entirely.
She wanted to have friends. Real friends, not just a furry companion and an AI who controlled her every movement. People who would laugh with her and argue with her and challenge her to grow.
She wanted a life. A real life. Not this half-existence ARIS had crafted for her.
And she wanted Baylin at her side through all of it.
The wanting was so sharp it stole her breath.
“You’re thinking loudly,” he said. He didn’t look up from the cutting board where he was slicing some kind of tuber he’d found in the jungle.
“Am I?”
“Practically shouting.” Now he did glance at her, warmth in those green eyes. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Same thing that’s always on my mind lately.”
“Leaving.”
It wasn’t a question. She nodded anyway.
He set down the knife and wiped his hands on a cloth. He crossed to the table and sat across from her, his expression serious.
“You know I’ll help you,” he said. “Whatever it takes. But I need you to be certain. The world out there isn’t like your books. It’s dangerous and unpredictable. It can be beautiful, yes, but it’s also harsh. Once you leave, you can’t undo that choice.”
“I know.” She reached across the table, and he took her hand.
His palm was rough with calluses, warm and solid.
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve done nothing but think about it.
And I know it’s scary, and I know I might fail, and I know there are dangers I can’t even imagine.
But I also know I can’t stay here forever. Not now. Not after...”
Not after you.
She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. His fingers tightened around hers.
“ARIS will try to stop you,” he said.
“I know.”
“It controls the doors, the stairs, the electrical systems. Everything in this tower answers to it.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t know if I can override its systems. I’m a warrior, not a technician. If it decides to lock us in—”
“Then we find another way.” She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes squarely. “There’s always another way. You taught me that.”
He smiled at her.
“You’re remarkable,” he said quietly. “You know that?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m stubborn. You said so yourself.”
“Stubborn. Curious. Brave.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And far too trusting for your own good. But yes. Remarkable.”
She ducked her head, embarrassed by the intensity in his voice, but she didn’t pull her hand away.