His body goes silent. Not still. Silent.
“Sera,” he says.
“Put me down.”
The words cost more than I expect.
Not because I can’t stand, though there’s a strong chance I can’t. Not because I don’t want his arms around me. That is also a problem, one with teeth and a warm place to sleep. Because the second my feet touch stone, I belong to the City again and Kavor knows it.
His eyes find mine. Red gone, only dark left behind. Too much understanding in a face built for stone and claws. He lowers me carefully. Too carefully. People notice.
His hands stay at my waist until my boots find the floor. My knees buckle. Only a little, but his grip catches me anyway. Also only a little. I hate that he learns so fast.
“I’m standing,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Don’t sound proud.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“Yes.”
The whisper of an almost-smile is there, hiding under disaster. Then the emergency signal strikes again.
Three. Pause. Three.
Everyone flinches. Duty snaps around my ribs, tight and familiar. It is good because I know this pain. I let go of Kavor and the loss is immediate. I turn to Rosalind before I can think better of it.
“West chamber. Inner doors closed. No public access. Ila, you come. Virn, bring the proof. Kavor, you come too.”
Adran’s eyebrows lift. “You are not in command here.”
“No,” I say. “I’m the only one in this room who’s been under the floor.”
That’s not enough to make him stop, but it is enough to slow him.
Rosalind’s mouth barely moves. “West chamber. Now.”
Her command does what mine cannot. The guards hesitate. Virn moves. Ila steps beside me. Kavor stays close enough that I can feel him without looking.
Adran follows. His guards follow too.
The west chamber is not built for hope. It is built for decisions no one wants witnessed.
Low ceiling. Thick walls. One narrow vent. A stone table scarred by years of maps, ration ledgers, emergency tallies, and old arguments. There are no chairs, because chairs imply time. The City hates time unless it can divide it into portions. Rosalind clears the table with one sweep of her arm.
“Proof,” she says.
Virn sets the harness down. Everyone leans in except Kavor. He watches the room. Watches me.
No. Not now.
Ila catches my elbow as I sway. “Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
