Bless the Lady General and her perfect timing. I lift my uninjured hand to Kavor’s chest. Not over the sample. Not over the proof. Nothing useful there now. Only his heartbeats.
“I want more,” I say.
Kavor’s breath stops. The whole City could crack open, and I would still know that.
“I want food without guilt. Water without counting. Rest without earning it. A life that isn’t just the next crisis.” My fingers curl against him. “I want you.”
The red flares in his eyes. So does restraint. Always restraint.
He whispers, “Sera.”
“No.” I almost laugh. It hurts. Everything hurts. “No more making me say the thing underneath the thing. That is the thing.”
His mouth almost moves. Almost.
“I want you,” I say again, because saying it the first time doesn’t kill me. “Not because of the bond. Not because of the cavern. Not because the system is using us or the City is cracking or I fell through a floor and possibly damaged the part of my brain that likes caution.”
A sound comes from somewhere in the hall. Ila, probably. Maybe a sob. Maybe a laugh.
“Kavor,” I say, and my voice steadies. “I choose you. Publicly. Stupidly. Terribly inconveniently. In front of everyone who may have opinions about it, which is unfortunate for them.”
His hand rises. Stops. Waits for me. I take it and put it against my cheek. The burned hand. The one he used to block the signal. His fingers are rough and warm and trembling. I turn my face into his palm.
The hall disappears. Not truly, but enough. There’s room for this. There has to be. Kavor rests his forehead on mine. Careful. Always careful.
“You choose me,” he says, his voice low and wrecked.
“Yes.”
“Not the bond.”
“I choose you first.”
His eyes darken. Good. Let him understand.
“The bond can come after. When we’re not being used as a key by a cursed machine under a starving City.”
“Practical.”
“I’m told it’s one of my charms.”
“You have many,” he says.
“Dangerous thing to say in public.”
“I will risk it.”
My laugh breaks, and so does something else. Not my heart. The wall around it.
The floor beneath us pulses again, hard enough to make people cry out. Kavor grips my waist. I let him. No. I choose it.
The blue beneath my bandage flares, but this time, it doesn’t feel like the system pulling. It feels like an answer. Not complete. Not yet. A door opening inside me.
The hall lights up white-gray along three seams. The north line falters.
“Keep moving!” I shout without lifting my forehead from Kavor’s. “Children first. Elders next. If you run, I will personally haunt you.”
The line moves. Kavor makes a sound almost like laughter and almost like pain. Then his head lifts. Warrior again. Mine. Ours.
