Part of him wants to. I can see it. That clean, cold calculation. The City is hungry. I glow. The system answers me. In his mind, need keeps trying to turn itself into permission.
Then his eyes move to the people around the room.
Virn. Syin. Rosalind. Ila. Kavor.
Me.
He chooses not to lose here. Smart man. Dangerous man.
“Agreed,” Adran says. “With the understanding that Sera’s condition may be relevant to the City’s survival.”
“My condition has opinions about men discussing it without me,” I say.
Ila snorts.
“Any observation involving Sera requires Sera’s consent,” Rosalind says.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Consent is easier to defend before the bowls are empty,” Adran says, his gaze not softening.
The words hit, not because they are cruel, but because they are true enough to have teeth. I step closer to the table. My ribs protest. I politely ignore them.
“Then help us keep the bowls from emptying,” I say. “Not by grabbing the source. Not by turning me into access. By making the City believe caution has a spine.”
“And if trust fails?” Adran asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Then we move faster.”
“And if faster is still too slow?” he asks.
“Then we find another route before desperation finds one for us.”
For a breath, something like respect flickers across his face. Not affection, but recognition. I can work with recognition.
Kavor’s warmth brushes through the bond. Pride. Careful, quiet, infuriating pride. I don’t look at him, because if I do, I might smile, and this room hasn’t earned that.
Rosalind starts to roll the map tighter, then stops and spreads it again.
“We begin with the weak places. Second Stillness, ration hall, nursery, west chamber, lower cistern. Then all blank spaces between known channels,” she says.
“All?” Penr squeaks.
I look at him, and he straightens immediately.
“Sorry,” he says, not squeaking. “Strategically concerned,” he says.
“Good,” I say. “Strategic concern keeps people alive.”
Ila points at him. “You are with me.”
Penr looks both terrified and proud. Merra shoves the broth bowl back into my hands as if from nowhere.
I stare at it. “Do you haunt people?”
“Yes,” she says.
I drink because some battles are beneath me, and some women are too stubborn to defeat. Rosalind watches me with a look I don’t trust.
