Page 21
I glare at Teren hard enough that he visibly enjoys himself.
“There is no romance,” I snap.
“Mhm.”
“There is no tension.”
“Mhm.”
“There is no weird soulmate nonsense happening.”
“Mhm.”
I slam both palms onto the analysis table. “Stop mhm-ing me like an elderly aunt.”
Teren grins. “You called him Security Wall.”
“Because he acts like one.”
“You also keep tracking him every time he walks past the tent.”
“I am tracking potential interruptions to my work environment.”
Brakk’s muffled voice drifts up from the panel. “And I monitor alcohol inventory because I’m spiritually committed to hydration.”
“I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t,” Teren says cheerfully.
The infuriating thing is that he is right.
Mostly.
The team is exhausted, overstretched, and operating under the constant pressure of League oversight and increasingly unstable excavation conditions, but there is still a pulse of excitement running through the site. Even the fear tastes different tonight. Sharper. Hungrier.
Because everybody knows the ruins are wrong.
Not metaphorically wrong. Not philosophically wrong. Structurally, mathematically, linguistically wrong.
And I love them for it.
I turn back toward the projections before the conversation can drift any closer to Ghar Vek’Talan and the deeply inconvenient problem he has become.
That strategy lasts approximately twelve seconds.
Because the moment I stop actively thinking about him, I become aware of him anyway.
He stands outside the tent entrance speaking quietly with two security contractors, broad shoulders outlined against the floodlights beyond the translucent fabric walls. His armor is gone now, replaced by a dark thermal shirt stretched across muscle and old scars that look carved rather than earned. Fresh medical sealant glints faintly along the cut at his neck from the collapse. His posture remains rigid even while standing still, as if relaxation is a language he forgot years ago.
He glances toward the tent.
Our eyes meet instantly.
The bond tightens inside my chest with humiliating speed.
I look away so fast I nearly knock over a data projector.
Teren sees this, because apparently the universe hates me personally.
