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“Six months,” I whisper. “That’s what they told us. Six months.”

“Six months without treatment. Nobody lied to you. But treatment can’t undo scarring, only stop it. Get him in early, and he can recover. Leave it much longer, and some of the damage stays.”

Early. He says it like there was ever a version of my life when I could have afforded to get Onyx there early.

Tightening my grip on the edge of the wardrobe, I turn back to him. “Then why tonight? Why not tomorrow? Why not next week, when I’d have⁠—”

“Because it had to be tonight.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Keeping one hand braced against the wardrobe, I let the word settle.

Cured. Not curable. Curable is the word I’ve carried for two years, the one I ran a forest on, but cured has a date on it. I’ve never let myself believe in that word until now.

“That’s not why he took him. Getting him treated doesn’t need a ship; he could have paid for it at the bar.”

“You’re right.”

“So why take him?”

“Because your brother is the only thing in this universe you’d cross a galaxy for, and because I wanted him on that ship.”

“You—” The rest catches in my throat as I look at him properly, remembering the oxygen settings, the nurses, the doctor, every detail he rattled off without thinking. “You wanted him there.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

One corner of Ryven’s mouth lifts. “You already know why. Here’s the thing. He’s on Tempest now, under our care. You’re here. I’m leaving in about forty minutes. If you want to come with me and marry Ash, get your bag. If you’d rather not...” He shrugs. “I’ll let myself out.”

It takes me a second to catch up. “You’ll let yourself out. Just like that?”

“That’s right.”

“And that’s the offer.” I laugh at him, but it comes out wrong. “Come marry a man who takes what he wants, or you’ll let yourself out.”

“It’s not an offer.” Ryven starts toward the bedroom door as though the conversation is already over. “I’m taking the last shuttle to Helion in forty minutes. From there, I’ve got a Clement connection to Tempest. There’s a seat on both. I’d rather you were on them.”

“And if I stay?”

He spreads his hands as if the answer couldn’t be simpler. “Then you stay. Your call.”

“Say the rest of it!”

“You already know the rest of it.”

“Say it.” My voice cracks straight down the middle. “You’ve stood in my room for half the night, telling me facts. Don’t get delicate now. If I stay in this flat tonight, what happens to my brother and me?”

Ryven takes his hands out of his pockets. “You don’t get to him. He gets his eight months. He gets well. He gets a life, and you’re still here. You’ll be here doing doubles, sending messages to a hospital that doesn’t have to answer them. You can’t afford a ship, and Tempest doesn’t open its gates to unsponsored Calder residents. The man who could walk you straight through them is the one you’d be refusing.”

“You’re a fucking beast!” I go at him again, punching him in the gut this time.

Ryven folds around the hit for half a second before straightening. “Hey, you’d both live. You’d just live apart and do it for the rest of your lives.”

I turn away because I can’t face him anymore. Can’t face any of this. “I’ve... I’ve never been apart from him. Not one night. Not when our mother went. Not when I was underground. Not in that forest, not for three days, not for even one hour of it. He was the reason I was in it.”