Dax stopped with his shirt partly fastened.
“What about me?”
He crossed back toward the bed.
“Tonight, protecting Norse and finding Sule have to come before what either of us wants.”
Veya’s face closed.
Dax caught the reaction immediately.
“That does not make you disposable.”
“Then what am I?”
He stood before her, visibly frustrated by the limitations of every answer he considered.
“Someone I am choosing much faster than good sense permits.”
The tension in her expression eased by a fraction.
“I cannot promise you what shape this takes,” he said. “I cannot offer you a formal bond or pretend one night has answered every question.”
Veya looked away.
“But I am not walking away.”
Her eyes returned to his.
A soft knock sounded before she could respond.
Dax crossed to the old bell pull beside the hearth and gave it one decisive tug.
“You summoned someone?”
“I sent for Mary before we started discussing the collapse of civilization.”
The door opened.
Mary entered with silver hair gathered into a loose knot and several soft strands framing her face. Her forest-green dress moved around her ankles as she crossed the room, and her eyes carried a warmth Veya had rarely encountered inside the stronghold.
“Mary,” Dax said, visibly relaxing. “Perfect timing.”
“My timing is always perfect,” she replied. “It is one of the few advantages of spending centuries cleaning up after males who believe planning is a substitute for sense.”
Her gaze settled upon Veya.
“So this is the young woman who has turned the entire house upside down.”
Veya blinked.
“I did not do it deliberately.”
“Nobody ever does the interesting things deliberately.”
Mary approached without crowding her.
“You look as though rest is the last thing your mind intends to permit.”
