Page 69 of Reaper Said Mine

"No," she says. "Unfortunately, I do not think anybody is kidding."

Theryki remains seated, but the careful smile she wears no longer looks diplomatic. There is a sharpness to it now that makes several nearby officials visibly uneasy.

"Oh, this is fascinating."

Skahar points his staff at her.

"Do not say fascinating."

"Why not?"

"Because every time you say fascinating, governments catch fire."

Her smile widens while the old man groans in despair.

Under normal circumstances I would enjoy the exchange. At the moment, however, my attention remains fixed on the woman standing below me.

The bond surges again, carrying fragments of memory with it.

Smoke and fire rush through my mind. I see a terrified girl clutching a recording device while artillery tears apart her city. The memory strikes me with enough force to make my chest ache. Another follows immediately afterward. I glimpse a newsroom, feel Dawson's contempt, see a transport approaching Guyver Station, and sense countless hours spent researching me.

The realization that accompanies those memories lands strangely.

Most people investigate me because they want leverage, weakness, scandal, fear, or advantage. They study the legend, the threat, or the political figure. Ursa came looking for the truth behind all of it, and that distinction matters far more than I would have expected.

I descend from the high table.

The hall quiets gradually as I move. Reapers continue celebrating, but their attention sharpens. Every eye follows the distance closing between us.

When I stop in front of her, the bond surges once more.

Up close, I notice details that somehow escaped me before. She smells faintly of spice from the feast mixed with station air and whatever soap she uses. Her pulse races beneath the skin of her throat. A thin cut remains visible on the back of her hand where the skitterling caught her earlier. Firelight turns her hair into polished copper.

She looks overwhelmed, but she also looks stubborn enough to challenge a warship through sheer force of will. The combination should not be attractive. Unfortunately, it is.

"Ursa."

My voice sounds rough.

Her throat moves before she answers.

"Gnash."

The sound of my name in her voice sends another pulse through the bond.

The connection floods me with another wave of shared awareness. I feel her struggling to remain calm, trying to stay upright beneath the weight of the moment, and grappling with the realization that her life has just changed forever. I feel the pressure of every camera in the room because she feels it.

When I open my eyes again, she is still looking directly at me.

She is not looking at my armor, my title, or my reputation. She is looking at me, and suddenly the rest of the room feels irrelevant.

"Come with me."

The words emerge more quietly than I intended.

For a moment she says nothing. The bond carries impressions rather than language. I sense uncertainty, curiosity, alarm, attraction, and determination all tangled together while logic and emotion wage a fierce battle inside her mind.

I see the galaxy in her eyes. I can’t wait another moment. Without thought or preamble, I snatch her off the floor and throw her over my shoulder.