Our eyes meet. Hold for three heartbeats.
Then she stands and moves down the aisle. Slides into the seat beside me without asking.
“That screen spooked you.”
Not a question. Statement of fact.
“The light was unexpected.”
“It’s just the monitor resetting. Happens at certain altitudes.” She gestures toward the display. “Nothing magical. Just trapped electricity.”
Trapped.
Like me, in this metal box in the air.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I’m adjusting.”
“Yeah.” She leans back, arms crossed. Mirroring my posture. “That’s one word for it.”
Silence stretches. Not comfortable. Not hostile. Just loaded. The way it has been since that conversation after the battle. The one where I had no answers for her. No comfort to offer.
“The memories came back,” I finally say. “All of them.”
“I figured. You stand different now. Like you remembered how to wear a crown.”
Always so perceptive.
“I wore one for a long time. It didn’t fit well.”
“Most don’t.” She shifts, and I catch the wince she tries to hide. Still injured. Still held together by fire I’m feeding into her without conscious thought. “You planning to take it back?”
“No.”
The answer comes immediately. Certain.
Her eyebrows rise. “That was fast.”
“I don’t need time to consider what I already know.”
“So what happens when we get to Seattle, and people start looking at you like you’re supposed to have answers?”
I exhale slowly. “I’ll disappoint them.”
“Good.” She nods, approval clear. “You were kind of a dick in the tomb. All the fire and the disintegrating and the kingly bearing. I prefer K.”
“I prefer him too.”
Her smile is small. Genuine. The first real one I’ve seen since the tomb.
Then it fades.
“We should probably talk. About the bond. About what happens at headquarters. About—”
“Later. When we have privacy.”
“Right.” She stands. “Later.”
