It wasn't anger. It wasn't even disappointment. It was something worse—a kind of mocking amusement, a raised eyebrow that said more than words ever could.Really?it seemed to ask.Are you really asking me to trust you? After everything that's happened? After you put me in this situation?
He was right. She had put him here. She had been communicating with Annani in secret for two years. She had planned an escape for Tula. She had watched him jump to save her. She had betrayed him, even if she had never meant to hurt him or for things to end this way.
"That's not fair," she said quietly.
"What isn't fair?"
"I didn't plan any of this."
"I'm not blaming you, Areana." His voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. "I'm just trying to find a way out of this mess."
He was blaming her, maybe not in words but in his demeanor.
Areana felt the tears threatening again, but this time they were hot and angry rather than joyful. "I just wanted to protect the ladies. Our sons."
"I know."
She wanted to argue, to defend herself, to explain all the complicated reasons behind her choices. But what could she say that she hadn't said already?
It all sounded like excuses.
Navuh had forgiven her. Now she just needed to forgive herself.
"I love you," she said instead. "That never changed."
Navuh was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, and his expression softened. "Your love is what kept me going. You were my oasis, my salvation."
"Were?" she asked.
"You are." His fingers twitched against hers. Intentionally, she realized, a deliberate caress.
"Then why won't you trust me with this?"
"Because some secrets are too valuable to share with anyone. Even you." His eyes found the camera mounted near the ceiling, the device that recorded everything that happened in this room.
Areana followed his gaze, understanding dawning. Of course. Everything they said was being monitored. Every conversation, every whisper, every moment of intimacy was captured and stored somewhere in the clan's systems. Kian had probably reviewed the recording, searching for useful information, trying to get inside Navuh's head.
Anything Navuh told her would be heard by others.
"You're impossible," she said, but there was no heat in it. She understood, even if she didn't like it.
Navuh chuckled. "And yet you love me anyway."
"I do, Fates have mercy on me. I do. Despite everything."
"That's the best kind of love." He turned his head, and she noticed that he had more mobility there now, too. The movement was smoother than it had been even yesterday. "The kind that persists."
Areana stroked his fingers absently, marveling at the fact that he could feel her touch again.
"You have a plan," she said.
"I always have a plan."
"A real plan. Something concrete, not just vague promises of valuable information." She studied his face, reading the subtle signs that five thousand years of partnership had taught her to recognize. "You're in a good mood. Better than you've been in since we arrived here. That means something has changed."
Navuh's smile widened. "You know me too well."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice even though she knew the cameras would pick up everything regardless. "Do you really believe they'll set you free? Is that what you're counting on?"
