“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. No one knows that. We just got shot at, Emma. By fanatics who want to cut Ari open and study her organs. This is war, and we’re outgunned and outmaneuvered and running out of luck.”
“Then we find allies.” Emma stood, still holding the sleeping baby, and walked to him. “We get help. We don’t stop fighting just because the fight is hard.”
“And if fighting gets you killed?”
“Then at least I’ll have died trying to do something that mattered.” She reached up with her free hand, cupping his cheek. “Doren. I didn’t choose this life. None of us did. But we’re in it now, and running won’t make the Grorn disappear. It’ll just mean they catch up to us later, when we’re tired and alone and have nowhere left to go.”
He closed his eyes. Her touch was warm against his fur, grounding him in a way that words couldn’t.
“I love you.” The admission came out rough and unplanned. “I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how. But somewhere between the Ithyian ship and now, I fell in love with you, and the thought of losing you makes me want to burn the galaxy down.”
Her breath caught. “Doren...”
“I’ve never had anything worth protecting before. Not really. There were people I cared about—Rjmar, Athtar, others—but I could always walk away. That was my gift, my survival skill. Being able to walk away before it hurts. To keep moving before anyone gets close enough to matter.” He opened his eyes, met hers. “I can’t walk away from you.”
“Then don’t.” She smiled, soft and warm and somehow still hopeful despite everything. “Stay. Fight. But fight with me, not for me. We’re partners, remember? Package deal.”
Partners. The word settled into his chest, uncomfortable and perfect at the same time.
“You’re infuriating,” he said.
“So I’ve been told.”
He kissed her then, because he didn’t have words for what he was feeling. She kissed him back, careful not to wake the baby between them.
When they broke apart, her eyes were shining. “We’ll find another way. But I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Promise you won’t make decisions like this alone. No more ‘I have to protect you by shutting you out.’ No more ‘this is too dangerous, stay behind.’ We face things together, or we don’t face them at all.”
It went against every instinct he had. Every lesson life had taught him about keeping people at arm’s length, about being ready to run at a moment’s notice.
But those lessons had been wrong. He was only starting to understand how wrong.
“I promise,” he said.
She nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now help me put Ari down, and then let’s figure out our next move.”
Later, while Ari slept peacefully in her crib and the hyperspace tunnel carried them towards safety, Doren sat at the nav console and studied the star maps they’d collected.
Three waystation locations remained unexplored. One was deep in Grorn-controlled space—suicide to approach. Another was in the Disputed Territories, dangerous but potentially manageable. The third...
The third was in the Kaisarian Empire. Protected space, heavily patrolled, and virtually impossible to enter without proper authorization. Unless someone knew they were coming. And unless someone was willing to help.
He’d fought this option for a long time, unwilling to share anything he’d learned with the Imperial government. But he’d come to realize that this was about more than just what he wanted, more than just keeping Emma safe. He couldn’t stand against the Grorn. The Royal Fleet could.
Before he could change his mind, he sent a message to Athtar and asked him to forward it to the Emperor’s senior advisor. He might be making a deal with the devil, but as he powered down the console and went to join Emma in their cabin, he had no regrets.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tanaca’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Emma had spent enough years reading children’s faces—the guilty ones who’d broken classroom rules, the scared ones hiding problems at home—to recognize the expression instantly. Tanaca was assessing them the way a collector might assess a rare specimen, cataloguing value and potential uses with every polished glance.
The chamber he’d received them in was designed to intimidate. Soaring ceilings inlaid with precious metals caught the light from floating luminescent orbs, casting everything in a warm golden glow that somehow managed to feel cold. Massive tapestries depicting Kaisarian military victories hung along the walls, their threads so fine that the embroidered warriors seemed to breathe.
