Page 123 of Reaper Said Mine

I understand someone tried to kill you.”

“Or frame someone for trying.”

“Both interest me.”

Ursa grips my forearm. “Gnash.”

Her fingers are small against my skin, warm despite the chill spreading through the chamber after the environmental system failed. I look down at her.

“Don’t,” she says.

The word is quiet. It still reaches the place inside me where violence is already standing up.

“Do not tell me to be calm.”

“I wasn’t. I was telling you not to give them what they want.”

My teeth ache from how hard my jaw closes. “They nearly killed you.”

“They aimed at Theryki’s original seat.”

“You were in the line.”

“Because I insisted on being here.”

That makes it worse, not better. I lift one hand toward the blood at her temple, then stop before touching without thinking. She sees the hesitation and leans into my hand herself, just enough for my thumb to steady near the wound.

“It’s small,” she says.

“The wound or your sense?”

She huffs a pained little laugh. “Both, apparently.”

A medical team rushes in, and I nearly snarl them back before Ursa tightens her grip on my arm.

“Let them do their job,” she says.

“I am allowing it.”

“You look like you’re about to eat the medic.”

“He smells afraid.”

“He has survival instincts.”

The medic, a lean Alzhon with silver tendrils trembling beside his jaw, approaches with a scanner held carefully where I can see it. “Lord, I only need to check her head and shield exposure.”

Ursa looks up at me. “See? Very reasonable.”

I move half a step back because she needs the medic more than she needs my rage. It costs me something I do not have a name for. The medic scans her temple, eyes flicking nervously toward me every few seconds.

“She has a superficial cut, mild impact bruising, no skull fracture, no neural disruption,” he says quickly. “Shield feedback may cause nausea, headache, and tremors for a few hours. She should rest.”

“I’m not resting yet,” Ursa says.

I turn my head slowly.

She winces. “That sounded worse out loud.”