Page 20 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

“If that thing wants resonance, I will not hand it yours.”

Sera closes her mouth. Kavor inclines his head once.

Adran says, “I should be present.”

Rosalind looks at him. “You should be useful.”

Kessa coughs into her fist. I like her less every moment. That may also be untrue.

“He cannot walk far,” Merra says, tying off the bandage tighter.

“I can walk,” I say.

“You can also bleed, posture, and annoy me. None of those are medical arguments.”

“I can walk.”

Kessa studies me over the slate.

“He walked from the basin after falling from the sky.”

Merra scowls. “That does not make him healthy.”

“No,” Kessa says. “It makes him stubborn enough to get himself killed later, which means we can use him.”

I bare my teeth at her, but she just smiles back.

Small. Bright. Unfriendly. I want to see that smile again, which is more dangerous than Merra’s needle. She does not soften for me. I respect that more than I should.

We prepare to move, and the chamber breaks into function. Guards assigned. Routes cleared. Messages sent in low voices. Rosalind wraps the copper sphere in cloth rather than touching it with skin. Visidion stays close enough that any fool reaching for it will lose the hand before learning regret.

Kessa moves toward the side passage with the slate in one hand and a small knife at her belt. A knife. Tiny, practical thing. Good for rope, cloth, maybe an eye if desperation provides accuracy.

“You will need more than that,” I say.

She looks down at the knife, then up at me. “For what?”

“To survive what is coming.”

“I survived you falling on us.”

“You survived the wreck’s first pulse because I told you to move.”

She narrows her eyes. “I moved because the sand answered.”

“You moved because you listened.”

That stops her, if only for a breath. Then she steps closer. Close enough that I smell dust, old smoke, and something sharp like bitter root on her skin.

“You don’t get to make that sound like praise,” she says.

“It was not praise.”

“Good.”

“It was assessment.”

“That’s worse,” she says, turning away.