The thought brought him up short, the staff freezing mid-swing.Happy.When was the last time he’d even considered that possibility? Happiness felt like a betrayal of everything he’d lost. Like admitting that life could go on without the people he’d loved most. But maybe that was the point. Life had gone on, whether he wanted it to or not. He’d survived when they hadn’t. He’d joined the Patrol, thrown himself into protecting others since he’d failed to protect his own family. He’d existed in a state of carefully controlled numbness for twenty years.
And then Corinne had crashed into his life and shattered that numbness completely.
She made him want things he’d thought dead. Not just physically, although Granthar knew he wanted her with an intensity that bordered on madness. But he wanted more than just her body. He wanted her laugh, her strength, her fierceprotectiveness toward those she loved. He wanted to see her safe and happy and thriving instead of just surviving. He wanted her trust.
The realization settled over him with quiet certainty. He wanted Corinne to trust him enough to leave Mikoz in his care. He wanted her to believe he would protect the infant with his life. But more than that… he wanted her to stay.
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it felt right in a way nothing had felt right in years. He could picture it so clearly, Corinne and Mikoz and even the wary young Anya, all of them safe under his protection. A family. Not a replacement for what he’d lost—nothing could replace Kessa and Lira—but something new. Something worth building.
He wanted to march back to his quarters, pull her into his arms, and tell her she was his. That she belonged with him, that he would protect her and the children, that he would move stars if it meant keeping them safe.
The staff whistled through the air as he moved through a complex sequence, channeling his frustration into controlled violence. His muscles burned with the exertion, sweat slicking his skin, but he didn’t stop. If he stopped moving, he’d start thinking too much about how soft her lips had been, how perfectly she’d fit against him, how right it had felt to hold her. How much he wanted to hold her again…
“You are going to hurt yourself.”
He spun, staff raised defensively, to find Tarak leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His second-in-command looked amused despite the late hour.
“I am training,” he said curtly, lowering the staff.
“You are brooding.” Tarak pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room. “I know the difference. You train when you are focused. You brood when you are trying not to think about something.”
He didn’t bother denying it. The other male knew him too well.
“What brings you here at this hour?”
“I was thinking about our conversation. Or perhaps trying not to think about it.”
Tarak selected his own staff from the rack, and they circled each other, falling into the familiar rhythm of combat. Tarak struck first, a testing blow that he deflected easily. They traded attacks, the crack of wood on wood echoing through the training room.
“The female and the children are settled?” Tarak asked conversationally, as if they weren’t engaged in combat.
“Yes.”
“Where do you think the biological mother came from? The Red Death killed all our females.”
“I do not know, but I think perhaps that if I were a Cire female living somewhere else, I would not have wanted to return to Ciresia.”
Tarak nodded thoughtfully as he deflected a blow.
“The pressure would have been unbearable.”
Which meant perhaps there were other females hiding in remote parts of the system. It was a question that needed answering, but not tonight. Tonight he had other concerns. “Corinne asked me to find a home for the child.”
Tarak’s staff froze mid-swing. “And?”
“I offered to take him.”
Silence. Then Tarak lowered his staff completely, his expression unreadable.
“You offered to raise the infant.”
“Yes.”
“You. The male who has spent twenty years avoiding anything resembling attachment.”
“I am aware of the contradiction.”
Tarak studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “It is more than just the child.”
