“I am holding myself responsible for my role in it,” I answer. “There is a difference.”
He lifts his hand slightly, then lowers it again, as if debating whether contact would help or hinder.
The air between us grows thick, and I become acutely aware of my own heartbeat. Not because it is loud, but because it is fast.
“You feel it,” he says at last, and there is no ambiguity in what he means.
I exhale slowly. “Yes.”
He does not smile. He does not look triumphant. He simply inclines his head, acknowledging shared reality.
“It is affecting you,” he continues.
“It would be arrogant to pretend otherwise.”
“It is affecting me as well.”
The honesty in his voice sends a ripple through my composure.
“I do not appreciate biology intruding on strategic thinking,” I say.
“It is not biology alone.”
“Call it what you like,” I reply. “It is inconvenient.”
A faint flicker of something almost amused touches his expression. “Inconvenience is survivable.”
“Political fallout is not always.”
Silence stretches between us, charged and fragile.
“If this becomes known,” I continue, forcing the words out evenly, “the League will not see nuance. They will see compromise. They will assume manipulation.”
“And are you manipulated?” Kael asks, his voice quiet but unwavering.
“No,” I say immediately.
“Are you coerced?”
“No.”
He takes one slow step forward. “Then what are you?”
The question lands not as accusation but invitation.
I hold his gaze and feel something inside me fracture open.
“I am tired,” I admit. “Tired of pretending that proximity does not matter. Tired of pretending that I do not react when you stand this close.”
His breathing shifts almost imperceptibly.
“You react,” he says.
“Yes.”
“And you fear that reaction.”
“I fear losing clarity.”
