“Thriving.” Euouae’s golden form flickered with something that might have been satisfaction. “Your daughter is remarkably resilient. She has already begun developing the neural pathways necessary for psychic sensitivity. Faster than expected.”
Kaede absorbed that. His daughter. Psychically sensitive. Growing inside the woman he’d built his entire existence around.
The weight of it never got lighter.
“I can extend her sleep,” Euouae offered. His ponytail swayed as he tilted his head, studying Kaede with those ancient, knowing eyes. “Keep her under longer. She needs the rest, and her body would not resist the assistance.”
Kaede considered it. The tactical advantage was obvious—a well-rested Selena was a more effective Selena, and effective was what they needed when they walked into the CEG’s political minefield. But—
“No.” He turned from the viewport to face the two Oetsae projections. “She’d be furious if she found out we manipulated her rest. Even with good intentions.”
“The intention does not change the outcome.”
“No. But it changes how she trusts us.” Kaede’s jaw tightened. “She’s given up enough control over her own life. Her body, her choices, her time—everyone wants a piece of her. Everyone has opinions about what she should do, how she should rest, what risks she should take.” He shook his head. “We don’t add to that. Not unless her life is in immediate danger. Let her wake naturally.”
Euouae studied him for a long moment. Something shifted in his golden features—respect, perhaps, or understanding.
“And if she pushes herself again?” The Oetsae’s voice was gentle but pointed. “She has a habit of ignoring her body’s limitations.”
“Then we make sure she doesn’t have to.” Kaede’s gaze drifted back toward the cracked door. The nestbed. The sleeping figures within. “That’s why I’m awake.”
Movement stirred in the bedroom. A shift of fabric, a change in breathing patterns. Zyxel’s consciousness rising toward wakefulness, as the Rkekh male registered Selena’s warmth against him and Kaede’s absence.
Good. He’d wanted to speak with him anyway.
Kaede moved to the doorway and caught Zyxel’s eye through the crack. A subtle gesture—out here, quietly—that needed no words between warriors.
Zyxel extracted himself from Selena with the same care Kaede had used. His demi-human form moved like water—silent, controlled, nothing like the serpentine bulk of his Ezzaska body. He pressed a kiss to Selena’s hair before slipping through the door, and something in Kaede’s chest unclenched at the tenderness of it.
Good. He was learning.
Zyxel joined him in the sitting room, rolling his shoulders as if adjusting to the smaller frame of his humanoid shape. The chartreuse of his eyes caught the ambient light—alert, assessing. A predator’s gaze in a scholar’s body.
“You wanted to speak with me.” Not a question. Zyxel had spent centuries reading the subtle cues of those around him, cataloging intentions the way other beings cataloged stars.
“I did.” Kaede gestured toward the seating area. Didn’t take a chair himself—this wasn’t a casual conversation. “We need to discuss your role for the rest of this trip.”
Zyxel’s brow furrowed slightly. “My role? I assumed—”
“You assumed you’d shadow her. Guard her. Intervene if anyone threatened her safety.” Kaede crossed his arms. “That’s not enough. Not anymore.”
Something flickered across Zyxel’s features. Uncertainty, maybe. Or the sharp edge of wounded pride. “You doubt my capabilities?”
“No.” Kaede held his gaze. “I’m raising them.”
Silence. The kind that held weight.
“I’m going to be at the captain’s chair most of this trip,” Kaede continued. “Coordinating with Eshe. Running tactical simulations. Managing the approach to the CEG with my ship’s Oetsae team and every contingency that could go wrong once we’re there. I can’t be with her every moment.” He paused, letting that sink in. “You can.”
Zyxel’s spine straightened. “You want me to protect her.”
“I want you tocarefor her.” The distinction mattered. Kaede made sure his tone carried the weight of it. “Not as a bodyguard. As a mate.”
What they’d had just done was reminder that the Rkekh had earned his place in ways Kaede couldn’t dismiss, even if the possessive creature in his chest sometimes wanted to.
“She collapsed yesterday,” Kaede said quietly. “Passed out from exhaustion because she refused to rest. Because she’s so busy carrying everyone else’s weight that she forgets her own body has limits.” His jaw tightened. “Thatcan’t happen again. Not on this trip. Not when we’re walking into hostile territory with enemies who would love nothing more than to find her weakened.”
Zyxel’s expression shifted. The uncertainty bled away, replaced by something harder. Determination.
