Then his gaze dropped. There he was. Still furious. Still dangerous. But there.
And mine.
I let out a breath I hadn’t meant to hold.
“If you hurt him, they win,” I said quietly. His chest moved hard beneath my palms.
“He’s taking you away,” Kazan said.
The crack in his voice hurt worse than his anger.
“I don’t like it either,” I told him. “I hate it. But if I leave with him, we get a tribunal. We get a judge. We get a chance to show that my ex is exactly the kind of pathetic bastard who’d pull this.” I swallowed. “If you throw Pell through a wall, we get nothing.”
Pell shifted behind me.
Kazan’s eyes flicked past me.
I pressed my hands harder against his chest. “No. Stay with me.”
His attention came back.
Good.
“I know how to survive men like him,” I said. “I know how to be calm when everything in me wants to run or fight. Let me do this part.”
“I should be protecting you.”
“You are.” My voice shook, and I hated that, but I kept going. “By not giving them an excuse to take everything.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. He looked like he wanted to rip the universe apart until there was no one left who could touch me.
I understood the impulse.
But we needed him free. We needed his land intact. We needed a home to come back to.
I turned my head just enough to speak to Pell. “I need two minutes.”
“That isn’t?—”
“Two minutes,” I snapped. “You can wait on the porch or you can explain to the tribunal why you refused me a private goodbye in the claimant’s own residence.”
Pell’s mouth tightened. For a second, I thought he’d refuse just to prove he could. Then he picked up his tablet and walked outside.
The door shut behind him. The kitchen went quiet.
The star-figs sat half-chopped on the counter. The storm outside rolled closer over the ridge. Everything looked the same as it had ten minutes ago, but nothing was the same.
Kazan sank down until he was crouched in front of me, bringing his face closer to mine. He did that sometimes. Made himself smaller for me.
It always undid me a little.
I put my hands on either side of his face. His skin was warm. The curve of his jaw was rough beneath my palms. His horns framed my face.
“I’ll fix this,” he said. “I’ll find the worker and talk to Lorkin. Nezara will know what to do. I can?—”
“You can keep your hands clean,” I said. “That’s what you can do.”
His mouth shut.
