Ashley let out a slow breath, then seemed to shake off the weight of it all. "Anyway," she rolled her shoulders slightly, "enough about Cryon nightmares. You look like you're holding together remarkably well, considering."
I snorted. "Oh, I'm not. I just learned that gods can compress trauma into sentient cosmic consequences." I gestured vaguely. "Normal week."
Her smile widened, genuine now. "You fit right in already."
Xandros glanced over at us, one brow lifting. "She does," he agreed. "That's usually a bad sign."
"Hey," Ashley protested mildly.
I tilted my head, curiosity getting the better of me. "So… how did you two meet?"
Xandros opened his mouth. Ashley cut in immediately. "I pointed a blaster at his head."
I blinked. Then laughed. Hard. Xandros sighed like a man long accustomed to this version of events. "In my defense, the Cryons mistook my bed for a research facility."
"Inmydefense," Ashley shot back, "he was an almost seven-foot-tall alien warlord who had a ship and was my fastest way off Colynth."
"I was not a transport service," Xandros stated flatly.
"You were anopportunity," she replied. "I took it."
I covered my mouth, trying not to grin too widely. "That's… very on brand."
Ashley's eyes sparkled. "You?"
"Oh." I waved a hand. "I worked for the emperor. Astrophysics. Black holes. Then Dravok kidnapped me."
Xandros choked. Actually choked. "He did not—" he began.
"He absolutely did," I replied calmly. "It was very dramatic. Lots of glowing. Some existential dread. Then sex."
Ashley burst out laughing. Xandros stared at the door that had closed behind Dravok, then at me. "The Arkhevari are nothing like the emperor described."
"I've noticed that," I agreed.
Ashley leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Don't worry. You'll survive him."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's not reassuring."
She grinned. "Neither is he."
For the first time since we boarded the Imperial flagship, the room felt… lighter. Not safe. Not calm. Butfamiliar. Welcoming, even. Two women, from a planet that shouldn't matter, laughing quietly in the shadow of gods and generals. I suspected that mattered more than anyone in this room was ready to admit.
The surfaceof Cronack was silent. Not the clean silence of a vacuum or the honest stillness of a dead world, but theafter-silence,the kind that lingered after the screams had stopped and the machinery that caused them had moved on. The air tasted wrong, metallic and dry, carrying the faint residue of Cryon industry and something older beneath it. Burned ozone. Broken minerals. The echo of violence soaked so deeply into the ground that it felt permanent.
As much as I wanted to focus on Nythor and the mission ahead, Nadine's presence lingered at the edges of my awareness, not through intrusion, not through force, but through the bond. Subtle. Warm. A steady thread stretching across space.
Nadine.
The memory of her standing in the corridor replayed with unwanted clarity. Chin lifted. Eyes furious. Mind sealed tight.You don't get to decide for me.The words had struck harder than any weapon. She was right. I flexed my hand once, remembering the moment I had reached for her mind earlier, smoothing her agitation without thinking.
Habit. Efficiency. Control. I could use all the words I wanted to excuse myself. I could even try to say that I had lived too long in a world where influence was faster than conversation. Where hesitation meant death. Where intrusion was strategy.
But I'd be lying. Because I knew better. Because of her. When she pushed back—when she slammed her mental barriers down and flooded me with her fury—I had staggered. Not from power. From realization. I had felt her probing me, too. Earlier. Briefly. Curious. Testing. And I had disliked it.
The sensation of being observed from the inside, of someone brushing the walls of my thoughts without permission, had been unsettling. I understood then that if this bond was to survive, it could not be forced.
I exhaled slowly, opening my eyes to Cronack's burning horizon, and vowed that I would not do it again. Not because she demanded it. Because she deserved it. And because I did not need to.
