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The soft shift of metal as the door opened caused Arun to tense; automatically, he stood up, bowing deeply towards the entrance before he had even seen who had entered.
Curiosity burned in his chest as it had throughout his wait for Alarak’s aide. He had only ever had brief glimpses of what she might be like through the Highlord’s – former Highlord’s – mentions of her, and he had never though he would get the opportunity to meet who he suspected may have caused all this.
“You… Don’t need to bow.”
The embarrassed tone made Arun straighten, relaxing his shoulders slightly as he looked to where he had expected to meet the newcomer’s eyes; instead, he found he was looking over the top of her crest.
“Ah. I apologise. Force of habit.” He blinked and looked down into the eyes of one of the shortest Protoss he had met besides Zy’mun. She was dressed in some sort of official uniform, and kept her hands clasped close to her chest. Under one arm, a roll of parchment poked out from under the red stole draped over her shoulders.
“It’s alright.” As she moved into the room, he noticed the phase-smith’s ring at the end of her long cords. “Please sit.”
Kneeling on the floor in front of the low table, Arun neatly folded his hands in his lap, ignoring the seats around them. Alarak’s aide gave him a knowing smile and knelt beside him, unrolling the parchment, and smoothing it on the surface in front of them.
He leant forward slightly, squinting at the spider-scrawl notes that littered an intricate blueprint for a set of two limbs.
“What is this?”
She played with her hands. “Replacement limbs. I understand you were his… healer of sorts. He had his armour readjusted a few weeks before his Rak’Shir and I was hoping that you would remember the measurements for his arm.”
Arun took in the neat lines and careful labelling of each design; they were Khalai in style, though utilised Bloodshard for their energy output. He knew little of how it worked, that was Zy’mun’s area of expertise, but…
“That is not something that I can help with. I was more of a healer to Alarak than anything else.”
The small Protoss sighed softly, shoulders sagging before she rolled up the parchment again.
“I will have to speak to the Hierarch, then, though I have no idea if he will be able to help me—”
“No, it is fine. I will introduce you to Zy’mun; he tended to his armour when needed and will likely know what you need.”
“Ah, alright. I’m sorry.”
“No need. Though… why not… Ask Alarak? Surely it would be easier than running around like this.”
For a moment, his eyes lingered on the two clasps on her left cord, recognising both. Zy’mun’s theory rattled in his head again as he tore his eyes away, focusing on her face.
Her eyes had hardened at the sound of his name, her expression becoming cold.
“He has gone.”
“… I see.”
A chilly silence hung in the air between them. So much depth in that one curt sentence… Once again, he felt that curiosity in his chest, and he shifted uncomfortably, deciding to try and change the subject.
“I don’t believe we introduced ourselves.”
That seemed to soften her, and she gave him a small, embarrassed smile. “Ah, how rude of me. I’m Ri’kara. You were his healer, so… Arun, I believe?”
“Yes. I suppose he spoke of me?”
“He did.” She played with her fingers, examining them. “I suppose he didn’t speak of me.”
“Only a little, and never by name.”
“That was probably for the best.”
The uncomfortable silence once again fell over them. Arun wondered if he should ask the questions that were rolling around in his skull; he knew he would never get an answer from Alarak, not now. They had been warned that once he was off planet, they would never see him again.
“You seem like you want to ask something.”
He blinked, looking down at her tired eyes. Just under her amiable façade was a deep fragility, like something might shatter her at any moment. He hesitated, but sighed, letting all the tension from his shoulders.
“A few things. I doubt that they are appropriate.”
“That’s fine. I…” She let out a nervous little laugh, playing with that cord and drawing his attention once again to those decorations. “Truthfully have a few things I wanted to ask you.”
“… You first.”
Ri’kara made a soft sigh of her own, examining the slightly tarnished gold that rimmed the glass of the table, unable to really look at him.
“Did you know what he was planning to do?”
“… No. He told us to leave once Rak’Shir had begun, said that we were free to go; he refused to let us declare for him.”
“I suppose you didn’t listen.”
“Not exactly. Zy’mun insisted we stay and watch the Rak’Shir, have a ship ready. We thought he was insane. Truth be told we wondered if Var’gash would make us serve him or kill us for our old loyalties, so we wanted to leave quickly.” Arun frowned. “But… He was so insistent that I indulged him. By the time it was over, when they had all gone, we were pulling Alarak out of the pit. He had planned to climb out himself. Or die trying, I suppose.”
Her fists clenched. For a moment he swore he saw her eyes well before she blinked the tears away in little wisps of red vapour, keeping her expression neutral. “… I did want to thank you for that. Fool that he is to think he could have done that alone.”
“Did… you know what he had planned?”
“No.” That cold expression was back again, though her eyes once again began to well with tears. “He let me believe he was dead. The Hierarch knew and let me believe that too.”
That resonated with Arun, the empty way she said it. He couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter sound that made the small Tal’darim beside him start a little.
“I was supposed to be his confidant. He told me most things, trusted me, and yet for some reason he had insisted upon trying to throw his life away in some foolhardy scheme and I had to simply hope that I could get him here in time before he died.”
“… I thought he trusted me enough to tell me. I don’t know why I had to suffer through this; he told me more than he told anyone else, and yet this one thing… I was just allowed to suffer, and I don’t know why.”
They both looked at each other. It was clear the wounds were fresher for her. The silence stretched, and then she relaxed herself.
“… Have you forgiven him?”
“No, I have not forgiven him.” Both of his palms turned to the ceiling in a half-hearted shrug. “I also have. I recognise that his actions were that of someone who felt trapped. Clearly you and I both know how much he hates unknowns; if I were to hazard a guess, he may have even found dying a preferable outcome, and it is why he didn’t tell us of his other plan to crawl out of the pit.”
“If you had told me that a month ago, I wouldn’t have believe you, but… No, I think letting himself have the coward’s way out isn’t surprising at all.”
Arun chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that—”
“I’ve already said it to his face.”
The former supplicant blinked, looking down at the little slip of a phase-smith and her suddenly steely glare at the opposite wall. Her fists were clenched again, almost shaking from how tightly she had balled them up.
“You…?”
“Yes. When I was summoned by the Hierarch and informed that he had survived. He deserved to hear it; he is a coward. I lied, honestly. I think I do know why he didn’t fucking tell me, and it is because he was too scared to wait and say how he felt to my face when he came back alive, so he gave me a letter instead and let me think he was dead. Maybe he thought I’d be too overwhelmed with joy to refuse him—”
She cut herself off, meeting his eyes quickly. Her own widened, as though she had realised how much she had said. He looked at those clasps, and she instinctively grabbed them, as though she could cover them up.
Zy’mun was right, wasn’t he?
She cut him off quickly as he leant forward a little to speak, waving her free hand. “Forget I said anything. Please.”
“… That was going to be my second question.”
“What?”
“You held onto his clasp for him?”
“… I was asked. He did not want Var’gash to have a trophy.”
“Yet you still have it.”
Her shrug was sharp, dismissive. “I haven’t been able to give it back. I will arrange something when I manage to make these and send them to wherever he has gone. I didn’t get told that either.”
Arun narrowed his eyes. He knew Alarak hadn’t worn that clasp for decades, at least, but he sensed that he wasn’t going to get any further if he pointed that out.
“… What will you do now?”
“I have a few things that the Highlord needs me to do, then I will be passing my position on to my apprentice, and I will be leaving Aiur. I need to do something else with my life.”
“I see.”
“… I might, at least, see the rest of you before I leave. I wanted to thank all of you for… A lot of things… But making sure he didn’t kill himself with his stupidity is, of course, the most important one.” She smiled softly. “And I have been curious about you all.”
Before he could say any more, she stood, brushed herself down, and bowed.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time. If you’ll excuse me.”
He stood as well, too quickly.
“Ri’kara, wait—”
Stopping at the door, the phase-smith sighed, her shoulders sagging, betraying her fatigue.
“Yes?”
“I know that he hasn’t worn his own for… a long time. You do not owe me anything, but there is no way that I was ever going to get an answer from him. Please. How close were—”
“Not close enough, clearly.” She said it bitterly, spitting it out as she opened the door and stepped over the threshold. “I’ll contact you again before I leave, as discussed, and speak with your friend about the prosthetics.”
The door was closed again before Arun could protest. Somehow, though, he knew better than to follow after her, waiting in the heavy silence of the little room and turning over their meeting in his head over and over.
The clasps. Her outburst, the sudden cagey demeanour. It all made too much sense.
I suppose… Even if not said explicitly… There was something to them after all. He was right.
Arun made his way lazily along the brightly lit corridor, folding his hands together to stay their shake.
Ugh, I am sure Zy’mun will be particularly smug about this little piece of news.
He rolled his eyes at that thought, turning a corner and sighing as he reached the final door of the long hallway. Perhaps I won’t tell them at the moment.
Before entering, he couldn’t help but check the corner he had just taken; several moments spent still to make sure he wasn’t followed. He was greeted only with silence, and he let his shoulders relax just slightly.
I am sure you won’t find anyone to kill you here. Yet. His hands shook harder. He needed a smoke.
The sweet, acrid smell of Terrazine hit him the moment he walked in; his slight headache alleviated almost immediately. The door shifted close, and all four of his companions looked up.
“Where have you been?” Nyra shot him an irritated glare from the lounge chair she was sprawled across. Ka’tor and Ra’noch were, as usual, curled up against her like cats. Zy’mun watched him as he made his way across the room from his perch on the back of another chair.
“Nowhere in particular.” Arun shrugged, kneeling on the floor in front of the low table and taking one of the pipes still smoking on the rack. He took a few puffs, keeping his tone light, nonchalant. “Surely you were not worried.”
Hers remained curt, accusatory. “You didn’t tell anyone you’d gone.”
There was a tense pause, and he properly met her stern gaze, studying the red rings of her eyes as the bionic mechanism readjusted. Ra’noch and Ka’tor had tensed in her arms, looking between the two of them as though ready to step in if needed.
He thought, briefly, about his pause in the corridor. Clearly being in a relatively safe place is not enough for our nerves as of yet.
Finally, he took in a little more Terrazine and relaxed, breaking eye contact and gesturing apologetically in her direction. “I am sorry; I was told it was important, and you were all asleep. I will wake you if there is a next time.”
Immediately, the atmosphere seemed to relax with him. Nyra rubbed her eyes with a hand and sighed. “I thought he’d already fucked off. Why were you needed?”
“He has gone already. His aide just wanted a little information; she knew she would not get it from the healers here, not now. As such, that led her to me.”
That fully grabbed the attention of the room. They all leant forward just slightly.
“What did she need?” Nyra asked.
“Prosthetic measurements. I have said that Zy’mun can help with such things, so she will see him at some point.”
Zy’mun leant forward, tilting the chair he was perched on, so it swayed dangerously on its two front feet.
“I suppose I can help with that. Though… She did not go with him? How odd.”
Arun automatically put out his hand to steady the furniture before it tipped too far and crushed him, glaring slightly. “No she didn’t.”
“Well did you at least ask why?”
“I think it would be foolish to follow him when she still has affairs to attend to for Var’gash, don’t you?”
Zy’mun moved back, dejected. The chair hit the floor again with a loud clack against the metal, and he made an irritated sound, nodding. “You have a point.” He drummed his fingers against his cheekbone and then added; “But was she in on the plan, at least? You must have asked that.”
“Yeah, that’s what I want to fucking know.” Nyra grabbed a pipe and looked out of the window; a deep frown set into her face.
“Yes, we ended up talking. I was curious about that little puzzle piece, as was she.”
“Well?”
“… No. The Hierarch and Var’gash were the only ones that knew. Like us, she only found out later.”
“Tch.” She shot a smug look at the skinny Tal’darim still perched like some sort of bird. “I guess that ruins your little pet theory.”
“Keep quiet. It proves nothing yet.”
“Make me, shortstack; you know you’re wrong.”
Zy’mun began to let out a low, irritated growl, and Arun groaned inwardly, taking a long puff of his pipe. The only thing stopping the two from trashing the place right now were the two other Tal’darim still huddled in Nyra’s arms, both gently calming her with soft psionic whispers he couldn’t quite hear.
Arun inwardly rolled his eyes, deciding not to correct the large Tal’darim for the moment; Zy’mun would likely start a fight anyway if he found out he was right on the mark.
Then, Ka’tor looked at him, quickly changing the subject. “What is she like, then? He only spoke about her in brief snippets.”
“Not what I expected.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not descriptive.”
“Well.” He shrugged. “I was expecting… A Votary, a Priest, perhaps a low-ranking fleet commander. A Tal’darim with some experience in all this nonsense. With everything that has happened, I would have thought his assistant would have been well-versed in some sort of diplomacy, but—"
Ka’tor sat up a little, leaning forward with some interest. Ra’noch was listening intently too, their big amber eyes almost boring into him.
“She’s a tiny slip of a thing. An ex-phase-smith; she still wears the ring.”
“That alliance must have been an interesting beginning.” Ra’noch laughed a little.
“Especially after the rebellion; he constantly had a grudge against smiths after that. I’m surprised he ended up liking her so much.” Ka’tor giggled, but then her expression fell slightly as she thought of something. “How did she take the news? If you asked her.”
“Not well. She only found out that he was alive and what was going on a week ago.” Arun scoffed, suddenly beginning to chuckle. “She called him a coward to his face, apparently.”
Nyra let out a booming laugh at that. “I’d like to meet her.”
“You might. She mentioned stopping by to at least meet us before she leaves. We will have to clean out the Terrazine for a day; it does not play well with her psyche.”
“Ah. That’s why you were so desperate.”
“Mm. She asked before the meeting that I didn’t take any so that she didn’t have to smell it.”
Zy’mun finally decided to sit himself properly in the chair, grabbing a pipe and flipping it in his fingers. His eyes had narrowed.
“She is leaving?”
“Yes. Once she has tied up all her loose ends, she plans on handing her position to an apprentice and leaving Aiur.”
“To go to him?”
“She did not say, and I did not press the matter; she looked tired enough as it was with it all.”
He paused, looking as though he wanted to say something more, but shrugged and dropped the matter, leaving the common room to go into his sleeping chamber.
Arun rubbed his temples with both hands and grumbled softly. No doubt he would be back to bother him in the middle of the night with more questions.
“Now, are we done with this interrogation?”
“I suppose. Tell us if you need to fuck off for a few hours next time.” Nyra settled back down, though her two companions decided to kneel with Arun, taking a carved board game from under the table.
“Yes, yes, I will.”
Ri’kara gently knocked on the door tucked away around the corner of an empty corridor, adjusting her grip on the parchment roll under her arm.
Verinis watched from a little away, amber eyes wary. She couldn’t help but give them a reassuring smile.
“I’ll be alright, don’t worry.”
“Just… Call if you need. I’ll be down the corridor and there in a flash. We lost Val’ka, no sense in losing you too.”
Inwardly, she winced, feeling guilty for not being able to tell them the extent of what had truly happened. “I know, but I promise it’ll be fine. They knew him.”
They nodded, leaning against a wall. Their hand fidgeted against the handle of their spear, claws tapping against the metal.
Ri’kara knocked on the door again, harder than before, and frowned. Where were they? Did she have the right room? Another minute passed, and she raised her hand again to knock—
The door opened more abruptly then she had expected; she stepped back with a start, and a beautiful, willowy female with deep red eyes quickly moved back as well to give her space.
“R-ri’kara?” Her face and crest dusted lilac as she looked her over, and she clasped her long fingers together.
“Y-yes. You are…?”
“Ka’tor, don’t just let her stand in the fucking corridor, she’s an official.” A deeper voice chastised her gently from the seating area just beyond, looking over at them both.
“Yes. Sorry, Ri’kara, come in…” She gestured nervously for her to step inside.
The phase-smith did so carefully, looking around the hastily re-made room. She could relate; her own was a mess right now.
‘Ka’tor’ joined the other Protoss that were sat or stood around the low table in the centre of the seating arrangement. There was Arun, smoking substitute incense with the urgency of a clear addict. Beside him, perched on the back of a chair, was a small, heavily speckled male watching her so intensely she thought he might burn a hole into her mind.
On the opposite chair, the owner of the deeper voice, ‘Nyra’, had her arm resting casually behind another willowy, androgenous Protoss, who looked at her with interest. They all had a section of their nerve cords weaved into Supplicant’s braids.
“Please sit if you like, Ri’kara.” Arun gestured towards the empty seat.
Somehow, it felt odd to use the Khalai seating, almost transgressive. She nodded but knelt in front of the table, placing the scroll against the glass and folding her hands in her lap.
Ka’tor waited until she was seated before setting herself down beside Nyra and the other Protoss, letting herself be pulled in to a casual embrace. They knew each other well, that was for certain, all glancing between each other in the heavy silence of the room.
“Well… I suppose introductions are in order.” Ri’kara shrugged. “I am Ri’kara. I have met Arun already, but…”
Nyra leant forward. Her eyes, now that she was close enough to see them in more detail, were bionic. As she took her in, the red rings shifted and widened slightly, adjusting themselves. “I’m Nyra. This is Ka’tor, and this is Ra’noch. That bastard over there is Zy’mun.”
“I can introduce myself, Nyra.” Zy’mun snapped almost immediately, rocking a little on the chair. “Pleased to finally meet you, Ri’kara.”
She nodded, repeating their names to herself in her head to commit them to memory while she untied the roll and laid it out in front of her.
“First… I’d like to quickly go over this before we discuss anything else, if you don’t mind, Zy’mun.”
He nodded, climbing down from the chair and tucking himself up next to her to look over the schematics with interest, head tilting.
“Why still use Bloodshard if this is Khalai in design?”
“It’s how Aiur Tal’darim design things; they’ve merged the gold with the psionic amplifiers that they’re used to.”
He nodded, brushing his hand against the curve of the forearm and pulling a quill from his sash, along with a small bottle of ink.
“May I?”
She nodded, pushing the paper towards him and allowing him to make adjustments as he saw fit. She watched as his shaking hands made perfect, steady strokes with the pen, and she idly wondered how a phase-smith with such clear, obsessive talent became a Supplicant to the Highlord.
While he worked, Ka’tor and Ra’noch gathered around her, asking her soft questions about her life on Aiur, how she escaped. They reminded her of Uljia, though she noted that they both had a constant blush over their faces; it was most likely a little warm on Aiur for them after spending their whole lives in the chilly, dry climate of Slayn.
Arun and Nyra then told their own stories of the Terrazine heists that got them into their situation in the first place, how all five of them had finally been caught and ‘saved’ with the offer of becoming Supplicants. Nyra seemed less subdued than Ri’kara sensed she was usually, paying her special attention through way of holding her gaze as often as possible when she spoke. She found it made her a little uncomfortable, but in the same way that it did when Alarak looked at her for too long. Her chest squeezed slightly, and she felt her crest warm a little.
Despite everything, it was somehow comforting, having them all speak of normal things, being around Protoss that understood.
Then, Ra’noch tilted their head, resting a hand on her arm. “Where will you go after all of this, Ri’kara?”
“I haven’t decided. Somewhere.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll re-train as a phase-smith; I enjoyed the work, even if it came with the abuse.”
“Not with Alarak?”
Once again, she felt her face drop at the mention of his name, a horrible mix of anger and sadness overtaking her. For a moment, she saw Zy’mun’s hand pause, and his eyes narrow with an odd intensity, as though gauging her reaction. Reflexively, she feigned nonchalance, putting an edge to her voice.
“Why would I?”
Ka’tor blinked at the tone shift, narrowing her own eyes slightly. “Weren’t you friends?”
“… Yes, we were. Are. I don’t know where he’s gone, though, and I’m too angry at him to care right now; I’ll let him play dead for a little longer.”
There was an awkward silence as the five exchanged glances. She didn’t know how much Arun had told them, and for a moment she had to fight the urge to reach for the clasps on her cord.
Then, she sighed, trying to soften. “I… don’t want to talk about. I got the answers I wanted from Arun, and I do thank you all for saving him from himself, but I just… Want to stop thinking about it for a little while. Please.”
Ra’noch spoke up again, more softly than before. “We didn’t mean to intrude. He’s our friend too, and you’re the only other Protoss that we can ask about what might be next after we went to all the trouble. We spent so long keeping him alive, it feels…”
“I know. I know you deserve more, but… I can’t tell you anything else, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I’m going to do just yet.”
“It’s ok.” Nyra leant over all three of them to pat her on the shoulder with a huge hand. “We get it’s sticky, like that’s anything new. Looks like you deserved a bit more than what you got as well.”
Ri’kara shrugged again. “Maybe…”
After another moment of silence, Zy’mun moved away from the parchment, waving his hand over it to dry the ink a little faster.
“Here, I think that should do.”
She looked it over carefully, admiring the clean amendments and neat, printed Tal’darim script.
“This is perfect, thank you.”
He nodded, bowing his head slightly as he put the writing implements back into his sash and climbed back up onto his perch. “You are welcome.”
Carefully, she rolled up the paper as soon as she was sure the ink was completely dry and carefully tied it back up with its ribbon. “I’ve taken up enough of your time anyway. Will you stay on Aiur?”
“Not for long.” Arun lit another incense stick. “We only planned on staying until Alarak left.”
“Where will you go?”
“Anywhere we feel like. I’m fucking tired of being stuck in the same room unless it’s time to go and kill something.” Nyra stretched, reclining against the sofa and letting Ka’tor and Ra’noch go back to curl up on her.
“Well… Thank you for your help again. I suppose this will be the last time we see each other.” Ri’kara stood, brushing down her robes and bowing. “Keep safe when you go, won’t you?”
“You as well.” Arun led her to the door, offering her a short bow in turn as she stepped over the threshold.
“I didn’t mean to leave our last meeting the way that I did, either. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “It is fine. I understand how emotionally charged all of this is, and I should not have pushed the matter.”
“No, it’s ok. You deserved to know.”
“And I know enough now. Thank you.”
Once the door was closed, she sighed, rearranging her stole and walking back up to Verinis, who had closed their eyes as a patch of sun had made its way to where they had been leaning.
“Verinis.”
“Hm?” They blinked, looking down at her with a smile. “All done here?”
“I am, yes. I’ll go back to my own quarters now if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course. Allow me to escort you.”
“So,” Arun allowed the door to close, throwing away the incense and moving to the cabinet to take out a few sticks of Terrazine. “I know you would all like to say something. What is it?” He made his way over to the table, kneeling where the phase-smith had and immediately lighting one for himself, sighing in relief.
“The bastard fumbled a catch; that’s for fucking sure.” Nyra took one of the other sticks and set it alight with a spark, taking a long drag and looking almost longingly at nothing. “I’d be kicking myself if I made someone like that look so cold when my name was mentioned.”
“She was gorgeous.” Ka’tor sighed dreamily, resting her head on her hand. “I’d give anything to rest my head in her lap…”
Ra’noch nodded, tapping Ka’tor’s arm to get her attention. “Her voice was so calming too, and those freckles? They were so cute.”
Arun rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively at them. “Could you three— Ugh, I meant something useful or constructive. You cannot just lose all rational thought whenever someone remotely attractive walks in.”
Zy’mun seated himself properly in his chair and narrowed his eyes, tapping his claws against the arm of it. “When were you going to tell me I was right?”
Ra’noch suddenly sat a little straighter, tilting their head. Ka’tor and Nyra also stopped their little pantomime and leaned forward.
“What do you mean?” They looked between him and Zy’mun.
I suppose I cannot leave it alone any longer. They all have eyes.
“… What gave it away?”
He shrugged. “The clasps. Who just gives another their trophy like that? I’ve certainly never seen something quite so unusual.”
“Apparently it was to prevent the new Highlord from taking it for himself. She plans on giving it back to him when she has a chance.”
Zy’mun scoffed. “You don’t believe that for a second, do you? I certainly don’t. Why would she wear it if she was only meant to keep it safe?”
“No. I don’t believe it. He hasn’t worn his own for decades at least, if not longer; now I realise that he wore hers. Obviously, I only saw him out of his armour if he was especially injured or his prosthetic malfunctioned, but I did notice the switch without truly thinking about it.”
“So they’d exchanged them a while ago?”
Ra’noch frowned a little. “What would that mean…?”
“At least that they were closer than expected, I would imagine; perhaps it is more of an Aiur tradition.” Arun shrugged. “It is not out of the realm of possibility that after decades being in close proximity… I do remember him mentioning to me that he was struggling with those new emotions you were all talking about after His death.”
“So they were not lovers then? As far as you can tell, anyway.” Ka’tor tilted her head.
He didn’t quite know what to say to that, struggling for a way to describe what he had picked up during their brief conversations, during her little outburst.
“She said something else to you, didn’t she?” Zy’mun pressed, leaning forward and staring intently at his face.
He sighed. “Yes. She said too much while we were comparing our knowledge of the situation. I don’t think they were lovers; she certainly seemed aware of the danger that would have posed, but I do believe—”
“That if things had been different, they would have been.” Zy’mun finished the thought, looking a little smug. “So I was correct all along.”
“Yes. There is no doubt in my mind that he did this for her.”
Nyra flopped back in her seat again, growling and rubbing her face. “And he fucked it up by deciding to let her think he was dead. Fucking idiot. If he was still here, I’d shake him."
Ka’tor looked a little sad. “Well… If they haven’t even told her where he’s gone, then I suppose his punishment will be that he’ll never see her again either.”
Arun shrugged. “Unless she decides. I am sure this Hierarch would not be so cruel as to keep them away from each other after all that. She spoke of him as though he had betrayed her as well; they must know each other fairly well.”
They all nodded, a solemn quiet resting over them.
Finally, Nyra spoke up. “I’m not going to dwell on it anymore. We saved the fucker, he’s off wherever with a new life, and we know why he decided to do something so stupid to begin with. Let’s figure out where we’re going.”
Zy’mun nodded. “For once I can agree with you.”