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“That he’s found his path,” she guessed.
“That he’screatedhis path. Where no path exists, a warrior will create one. That is what it means to be a warrior. To never give up. And you, my female, are a warrior as strong of heart as any I’ve ever known.”
Her fingers glided over the mementos of home he’d hung on the bedroom wall before stopping on the throwing knife he’d had as a youngling. The one he’d trained with for hours and hours until it embedded in the target two inches deep. Then her eyes returned to him. For the first time since he’d seen her lying in the hospital bed, wondering if she’d wake, he saw a vulnerability in Maggie.
His fingers itched to touch her, to stroke her soft skin, but that wasn’t something partners or even friends did. Pleasure mates, yes, but he had no right to touch her, especially after what she’d been through.
“I feel like I’m a little girl again, causing trouble for everyone around me,” she said, struggling to get the words out as she walked past each of the items on the wall. “My mother… never wanted me. Everything I did angered her. It was during Coalition rule, and she lived in fear of everything. We were alone, just the two of us. Well, not alone, exactly. We lived in my grandparents’ house. Six bedrooms and a huge kitchen, and all of it in good shape. Far enough from the city that it didn’t get bombed or blown up during the invasion.
“My mom rented out the spare bedrooms to whoever had the money to pay. We cooked and cleaned and I did everything she said. I earned my keep in chores and hated everything about that house, especially waiting on the men who stayed there. I wanted more out of life. The only freedom I had was going to school, which was required by law. My teachers showed me a world of possibilities, Z. Futures that didn’t include being stuck in that horrible house. Then the Coalition took over, destroying everything I dreamed about. I wanted to continue learning so badly. To escape.”
“The Coalition?” he asked.
“No, becoming my mother. Bitter, scared… hopeless. I knew the risk of defying the Coalition, but not learning seemed worse than getting caught. I snuck out of the house whenever I could and hid in the bushes beneath the windows of the local school, spying on the teachers and the boys inside. I learned math, science, history. I was limited by the classes taught on the first floor. After that, I traded food money for books.
“My mom beat me, said we couldn’t eat books, and that learning was wrong for girls. Not merely against the law, but wrong.” Maggie stared at the knife. “What if one of the boarders sees you reading a book, you rotten child?”
“Maggie…” Zirkov used every ounce of restraint not to pull her against his chest and hold her, to stroke her hair and reassure her she was safe.
“I’m fine, Z. I said I wanted to keep my memories, good or bad, right? I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look on my mother’s face as she pointed her kitchen knife at me. I never asked her what she was thinking, but I know. Deep down, I’ve always known.”
“What?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“That I wasn’t worth the risk of keeping around. Everything I did put her in danger. I had no value to anyone, including her.”
Tear-clouded eyes found him. “My mother was wrong about me. I had value, even if she and the Coalition constantly said otherwise.”
The need to comfort Maggie finally won out as Zirkov pulled her into his arms. “You have value. Everyone does. Is this why you became a marshal? To prove yourself to your mother?”
“No. Learning the skills required by law enforcement guaranteed she’d never hurt me again. That no one would.”
Zirkov had never understood Maggie until this moment. Those under Coalition rule always suffered, but the females usually the most. Maggie hadn’t been sold off to be a sexual slave, but she’d been assaulted, emotionally, maybe even physically, by her mother and the males they took in. That would make trusting anyone difficult. But he was determined to earn her trust, which meant not touching her or doing anything to make her question his motives.
“No one will hurt you.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“Yes, I can. I will not let any harm come to you. You have my word.”
* * *
MAGGIE
Zirkov classifiedtheir relationship as friends. That cut as deeply as the surgeon’s knife that removed the og’dal implant. But she hadn’t given up on him. He believed in her… had for a long time.
But friends might be how they ended up. Nothing more.
Despite Zirkov’s grand and well-intentioned promise, reality would separate them once they located Var’Len. He’d continue as commander of GI7, flitting between planets to protect witnesses, and she wouldn’t be a part of his life anymore.
She’d find a job, maybe start her own security firm because not many males would hire a woman, especially with the taint of being an og’dal mole. No one would trust her with anything important, let alone their lives.
“I don’t like the path opening up for me, Z.”
He tipped her chin up. “Perhaps you weren’t listening to me, vasha. A warrior makes his own path when necessary. This is what you will do when you are ready.”
“You’re still speaking as a warrior. When will you admit youarea warrior?”
He said nothing as he walked past her, pulled back the covers, and motioned for her to lie down. “Sleep, Magdalena. We can continue this conversation in the morning if we must.”
