“We can’t,” I say.
His eyes hold mine. He says nothing. Of course. He will make me say all of it. Because he is fair. Because he is cruel in the most ethical way imaginable. I hate him. No. I don’t.
That’s the whole problem in one useless little circle.
“We don’t have room for this right now,” I say.
His face doesn’t change. Mine wants to. I force it not to.
“The City is cracking. Adran is already looking at my arm like it belongs in a locked room. The source is corrupted. The system can use us. The bond makes us louder. People are going to hear epis and stop thinking. If I…”
My voice fails. Unacceptable. I look away down the corridor.
“If I let this matter right now, I’ll make a mistake.”
Kavor is silent for so long that I nearly turn back.
Then he says, “This does matter.”
My throat closes.
“I know.”
“Then say that.”
I laugh once, small and awful. “I just did.”
“No.” His voice stays quiet. “You said there is no room. You said the City is cracking. You said Adran is dangerous. You said the system hears us. All true.”
I shut my eyes. Do not cry. Do not leak from the face like an idiot.
“Sera.”
I open my eyes. He’s closer. Not touching. Never touching unless I choose. Terrible male. Beautiful male. Mine, if I stop running. No. Not yet.
“Say the thing beneath those things,” he says.
“I can’t.”
“Yes.”
The word should make me angry, but it doesn’t. It feels like water held just out of reach by someone who knows I have to lift my hand myself.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
His face changes. Not much. Just enough to hurt.
“I know.”
“I’m scared that if I look at you too long, I’ll choose you when people need me.”
“You will choose what you believe is right.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“No.”
“I’m scared that wanting you will make me selfish.”
