CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE TRUTH YOU KEPT
SHAARR
The weapon did not make me angry. Not now. I remembered Rowan's face after the relay released him. The horror.
The weapon falling. His hand shaking as though it belonged to someone else. He had been a victim inside the armor that hurt me. I knew that before the record confirmed it. What he did afterward belonged to him. That was harder.
We left the relay chamber before dark. Rowan walked behind me. Not close enough for the receptor to settle. Not far enough to disappear.
A perfect distance for pain. Vyrr contacted us from the upper western route.
"Source?"
"Confirmed," I said.
"Human machinery?"
"Residual frequencies carried through the mineral network."
"Can it stop?"
Rowan answered before I did.
"Yes. Probably."
Vyrr looked at him through the small projection.
"Probably."
"Best word available."
I almost smiled. Did not. He explained the counter-frequency model. Slow redirection.
No extermination. Avoid new pain. Vyrr approved. Call ended.
Rowan shouldered his pack.
"You want me gone."
The receptor slammed against my ribs. My answer took effort.
"Yes."
He nodded. That calm acceptance angered me.
"Nothing else?"
His brow furrowed.
"What do you want?"
I did not know. That was the problem. Defense. Anger.
A reason to keep fighting. Instead he gave me truth.
"I should have told you."
"Yes."
"I thought you might refuse the expedition."
"I might have."
"And people were already in danger."
"They were."
"I made the decision anyway."
"Yes."
He rubbed a hand over the neural scar at his neck.
"I wanted to fix something."
There.
"Preybridge."
"Yes."
"Your soldiers."
"Yes."
"My eye."
His face tightened.
"Yes."
Anger moved through me. Not because he wanted to help. Because he had turned me into a place to put his guilt.
"You made the expedition penance."
"Partly."
"And I became what?"
His eyes closed briefly.
"Someone I thought I owed."
The honesty hurt more than a lie.
"You owe me nothing for the weapon."
"I know."
"No. You understand the sentence."
He looked at me.
"Knowing is harder."
"Then do the harder thing."
His jaw tightened.
"I am trying."
"And I am supposed to trust that?"
"No."
The answer stopped me. Rowan took one step closer.
"You don't have to trust me because I apologized."
The receptor warmed. Traitor.
"You don't have to forgive me because I helped find the source."
"No."
"And you definitely don't have to choose a bond because I came back for you in the ravine."
My claws opened.
"Stop turning every action into an argument against pity."
"Then stop looking like you think wanting me makes you weak."
The words struck too close.
"Careful."
"No."
He was angry now. Good.
"I withheld something you had a right to know. That's mine."
He pointed toward my chest.
"But this?"
The receptor glowed between us.
"That's yours."
I stepped closer.
"Do not tell me what belongs to me."
"Then own it."
Silence. Wind moved through damaged branches overhead. I wanted him. The truth rose so violently there was no useful way to hide it.
"I do not hate you."
His face changed. The sentence had escaped too fast. I regretted nothing except timing. Rowan's voice softened.
"Then what do you want?"
Too much. Near. Gone. Safe.
Mine— No. Not mine. Chosen.
Impossible.
"Distance."
He nodded.
"All right."
The receptor rejected the answer. I caught his wrist before he turned. His whole body locked. Armor memory.
Immediately I released him.
"Sorry."
He rubbed the spot once.
"You didn't hurt me."
"That is not the standard."
His eyes lifted. Something passed between us. Old rule. Shared now.
"Accepted," he said.
I looked toward the darkening ridge.
"You cannot travel alone tonight."
His mouth twisted.
"Operational?"
"Storm. Unstable roots. No relay beyond ridge two."
"Compatibility?"
"Not the reason."
He studied me. Then chose not to challenge it.
"Until dawn."
"Yes."
We sheltered beneath a western guard arch. No family carvings. No old bond marks. Only rain hammering black roots. Rowan slept eventually.
I remained awake. His presence pulled at the receptor. Not enough to erase anger. Good.
Trust should not be that easy. Near dawn, I understood something unpleasant.
I had accused Rowan of deciding what truth I could survive.
For weeks, I had been doing the same thing in another form.
I had decided that if I refused wanting him early enough, neither of us would have to face what wanting cost. Different method.
Same arrogance. The realization did not make me ready to forgive him. It only removed one excuse for refusing myself. Morning arrived gray and wet. Rowan packed without speaking. I let him.
Choice had to remain real even when I hated where it led.