“Oh, bullshit?—”
Behind us, someone coughs.
One of the Merati shifts in his seat.
I step back, swallowing whatever I was about to hurl at Rhyss’s face. It wasn’t going to help. It wasn’t going to change anything. And I’m not about to make things worse with theentire board still in the room watching me like I’m a loose wire sparking next to an open fuel line.
I clear my throat. “Understood,” I say, and the words feel like gravel. “I’ll…I’ll take a few days to rest.”
Rhyss just watches me, face unreadable now, all that heat banked behind the glint of his eyes and the stillness of his posture. For a second, I wonder if he regrets it. Then I decide I don’t care.
I turn to the committee. “Thank you for your time,” I say, aiming for professional and almost sticking the landing. “I’ll submit a revised incident report once I’ve had time to review the archive and confirm where the error originated.”
The Merati incline their heads. The Mlok doesn’t move. The board begins to rise.
So does Rhyss.
We don’t look at each other.
I gather my notes and tablet, turn on my heel, and leave the lab without another word.
I don’t let myself cry until the elevator doors close. Not until I’m halfway out of the university, racing back home to Mythara Village to fling myself into bed and think about what a failure I am.
I just…I needed that win.
I needhis approval.
And I’m farther from getting it than ever before.
CHAPTER 4
KAELION
I do not feelgoodabout what happened today.
Unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about Lyn Walker as I return to my apartment; cannot stop thinking about her as I set down food for Flicker, my petdraken; still cannot stop thinking about her as I sit down on the couch and as Flicker demands pets.
I give in, of course. Flicker has always known how to win an argument without words. She hops lightly onto my lap, a fluid five pounds of shiny green scales and furry white legs. draken were bred to hunt rust mites in zero-gravity, their paws padded with static-dampening fuzz so soft they make no sound when they move. Now they exist mostly as spoiled domestic companions for engineers who work too much.
Like me.
Flicker settles against my thigh, kneading absently with all six paws, eyes narrowing to molten green slits. I scratch behind her ears until the faint hum in her chest starts up—the low, electric buzz that means she’s content—and I try, really try, to think about anything but Lyn Walker.
It does not work.
The images keep replaying: the wild brightness in her eyes when the sim first started; the split second of panic when it went wrong; the way she stood her ground when I should have reduced her to silence. I told myself I was furious because she endangered months of work. That part is true.
But beneath it is…something else.
Because the thing is—I see her genius. It would be difficultnotto, given the way her mind works, how quickly she moves from thought to thought, how she picks up on alien technology and develops new theories like lightning strikes. I underestimated her when I first met her; she’s proven herself again and again.
The problem is that the moment I tell her she’s a genius, she’ll go too far.
She’ll act too recklessly.
She could get hurt.
And that…that, I can’t tolerate.
