Page 69 of Warrior’s Mate

The girl pointed toward the transport ramp. "My brother."

A boy perhaps twelve years old stood halfway between cover and the ship, frozen as weapons fire crossed the open space. Kaiven could reach him. He also saw two Sargans repositioning to flank Second Squad.

Protection was not the same as doing everything himself.

"Serak, left flank. I need the corridor closed."

"On it."

Kaiven grabbed the nearest civilian marshal. "Get that boy."

The marshal ran when Serak's squad laid down fire. Thirty seconds later both children were on the transport.

Kaiven felt the lesson with almost painful precision. Trust was not passive. It was not standing aside and hoping someone else succeeded. It was recognizing who could do the thing that needed doing and giving them the room, information, or protection to do it.

Maelis had been trying to teach him that since before he knew what she was to him. The final transport launched at dusk. Only then did Kaiven leave the ridge.

He did not commandeer a flyer. He boarded the command shuttle with the other officers because there were wounded to relocate and reports to deliver. His hands shook after he sat down. He tucked them between his knees until they stopped.

Serak sat across from him, blood drying along one temple.

"You can call her now," he said.

Kaiven stared at him.

"I am still not saying anything."

Kaiven opened the comm. Maelis answered on the second pulse.

"You took your time."

The sound of her voice hit him harder now that no one was shooting at him.

"I was busy respecting your independence."

"How exhausting for you."

He laughed, and the laugh hurt somewhere behind his ribs. "Are you aboard?"

"Medical transport. We are moving toward the central relief station. The pregnant woman is furious that the child has chosen today to make an entrance."

"Reasonable."

"The child or the fury?"

"Both."

There was a brief silence. He could hear engines behind her and someone giving medical instructions.

"Kaiven," she said, quieter now. "I pulled the flood release."

He did not know what she meant at first. Then he remembered the irrigation diagrams she had shown him days ago, when the world still contained ordinary arguments.

"At the pumping junction?"

"There were Sargans behind the gate. I don't know if there were anyone else behind them. Survivors. Captives. I had no way to know."

He could have told her she had made the correct tactical choice. He could have said she had saved twenty-seven other people. Both statements might even be true.