She had said that. Out loud. To Durgan's face. While Targesh watched.
While Targesh watched and said nothing and then approved her appointment with a voice so steady she wanted to throw something at him, because how was he steady, how was anyone steady, she had just upended her entire life in front of witnesses and he had responded like she was requesting a change to the patrol schedule—
The door at the end of the corridor opened.
Verity scrambled to get her feet under her. She was not going to be found sitting on the floor like a—
Too late. Targesh came around the corner and stopped.
They looked at each other.
He was still wearing the expression he'd had in the council chamber. The one that gave away nothing. The one that made her want to take his face in her hands and shake him.
"You're on the floor," he said.
"I am."
He crossed to her in three strides. His hand closed around her elbow, and he lifted her easily back to her feet. She swayed. His other hand came to her waist.
"Why?"
Verity looked up at him. "Why was I on the floor?"
"Why did you refuse it?"
"Because the work here matters."
"The work in Valdara matters. To you."
"It did."
"You would refuse that position for the work here."
"Yes."
His jaw tightened. The scar at his brow pulled. She watched him not ask the next question, watched him hold it back the way he held everything back, and she was done.
"And for you."
His hand on her waist went still.
"Verity."
"Don't." She flattened her palm against his chest. "Don't tell me I should go back. Don't tell me the position is too important. Don't tell me I'll regret it."
"You should not stay out of obligation."
"Obligation," she repeated.
"Krennacarries weight. I am aware of that. And you are—"
"You think I turned down the highest archival appointment in Valdara because I feelobligatedto you."
"I will not be the reason you—"
"Targesh."
He closed his mouth.
