Page 140 of The Space Between Stars

“Where?”

To Steila, where Cul’Mon would probably capture him before he could disable the Tera’thians’s remote activator. Because, as much as his duty to Fankalo meant, he wasn’t going to let Raimee get blown into pieces, either.

“Calver?”

He looked at her. Goodbye, Raimee. Two words, ten steps, and it would be done.

“What do they have on you?”

Thyatira’s last words to him back in Chira’na had never stopped echoing in his mind. “I will find a way to slit her throat while you watch and have you blamed for it.”

Walk away. Walk away. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Thyatira. Mastico. The Red Wing. The Hand of the Shadewalker.” Said as though he’d insulted her intelligence. “You’re avoiding me because you think it puts me at risk to any number of them.”

He froze.

She raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t very difficult to put together.”

Fucking mind-reader.

She ignored him. “If you won’t tell me what you’re afraid of, then tell me what you’re planning so I can help.”

Calver nearly ran. The tent flap yawned open. He lifted his hand to signal and dropped it twice, three times. Raimee watched him struggle, mouth twisting.

“Oh dear. Have I completely undermined your plan for me to wander along, wipe my nose, and do absolutely nothing but play victim to chance? Bad Raimee.”

Calver dragged his hands down the sides of his face.

Kretch. Was she really any better off if he vanished? In the very least, he should have been honest with her about her risks. This entire recruitment was contrived. He was nearly sure Thyatira had been planning all along to hand her over to the Tera’thian Tohatu when they made it to Steila. The oligarchy could have found another way to discreetly get her to the capital besides military escort. One that didn’t involve three months of travel through the Jiradesh. In fact…

Calver’s guts turned over: he was surprised they knew which way was up any longer.

How could he be so stupid? Cul’Mon was breeding conduits. If Cul’Mon gained a full-blooded Ruxian, it was a far better play than using distortion plates as a trap. This was more than an ambush in Steila. This was now beyond anything Fankalo could have planned for. If Cul’Mon had a Ruxian, Nelfindar would fall.

Calver’s throat was a swollen stone. He looked at Raimee. She looked back. It was a look that clucked its tongue and said, “Yes, yes. I’m growing old waiting for you to catch up, idiot. Please promptly presume intelligent thought.” He’d underestimated her, yet again. She could distort. She was probably far more capable than he was.

“Yes.”

He anticipated shock. Horror. She was so weak. Maybe she’d give up. She might even cry. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“That feels obvious now that you mention it.”

He’d forgotten this woman was completely insane.

“It’s self-evident that the Steilan rendezvous is a Tera’thian setup, probably planned since the invasion of Tennca'Pui. Maybe even earlier. Why do you think I wrote you that note?”

A sudden ringing began in his ears.

“Everything to do with Thyatira forcing us along with this encampment has been quite deliberate, and without a logical backing. Why not send us to Seraphinden directly from Chira’na with a private guard? He knew we were onto Thacklore. He was keeping us here, separated in a doomed encampment, to make sure we wouldn’t tell anyone. I’ve been under lock and key at all times. For my own “safety,” I haven’t been allowed to see or speak to anyone but him.”

Calver shook off a sudden desire to storm out.

“Am I detecting jealousy?”