His gaze locks onto mine, hard and focused.
“Taken,” he says, quietly.
Something shifts in my chest. I don’t push it, yet, but the shape of it is there. And for the first time I’m not calculating how to get away from him. I’m trying to understand what he is.
I study him more, not just the way he moves. Not just how he watches everything like it might turn into a threat. The damage. The scars layered over scars. The way nothing about him looks like it healed clean.
“You were taken from here,” I say.
“Yes,” he says, gaze staying on mine. “Ship.”
The answer comes without hesitation or emotion. A fact, plain and simple.
“How long?”
Silence. He looks past me for a second. Not tracking the environment this time. Something else. Something internal.
“Long.”
I exhale slowly. That’s not helpful, but not meaningless either.
“You don’t know,” I translate.
I count the beatings of my heart as I wait for his response. His constant scanning continues. We stride in silence for eight beatings of my heart.
“No.”
“You said ‘ship,’” I press. “What kind of ship?”
“Above.”
His gaze flicks upward.
“You were held off-world.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Silence again. His jaw tightens slightly. Strain. The same as before. I stop walking, both because I’m exhausted and I want to figure this out. To understand who it is who’s kidnapped me.
“Not Zmaj,” I say.
“No.”
“Not Urr’ki.”
“No.”
That leaves—I stop. The answer doesn’t matter yet. What matters is what happened to him.
“Held,” I repeat. “And tested.”
“Yes.”
I glance down at his arm without meaning to. At the scars that don’t follow any pattern I recognize. At the places where the skin looks… wrong.
“How?” I ask.
