Page 235 of Reaper Said Mine

Pelt speaks carefully. “Lord Gnash, if you can provide full text of the signed agreement, we may be able to slow the intervention argument by identifying limits before Alliance hawks define them for the public.”

Gnash looks at me, not her. “Can you use it?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Even now?”

The question is not about the agreement.

It is about us.

“Yes.”

He nods once. “I will send it.”

“Unredacted?”

“Do not insult me when I am cooperating.”

A broken laugh escapes me despite everything.

His mouth almost softens, then the command center behind him erupts with new voices. He turns sharply, listening to someone off-screen. When he looks back, duty has already taken him by the throat.

“I must go.”

“I know.”

“Ursa.”

I brace myself.

His voice drops. “I should have told you.”

The apology is simple.

No defense.

No grand speech.

That almost undoes me more than anything else.

“Yes,” I say. “You should have.”

He nods, accepting the blade because he earned it.

The connection closes before either of us can say something softer.

For a moment I stand with the dead projection hovering above my palm, staring at empty light.

Then the room comes back all at once.

Gail is already moving. “We need the treaty text as soon as it arrives. Pelt, refine the intervention analysis. Milton, identify every clause that limits Coalition command authority, assuming such miracles exist. Bellamy, prepare a public explainer contrasting the signed terms with the draft emergency compact.”

Bellamy looks at me. “You good?”

I wipe under one eye with the back of my hand before any tear can complete its betrayal. “No.”

“Work anyway?”