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His face changed.

I felt the warning. Kept going.

“I know they died.”

“Stop.”

“And you lived.”

The room went silent. Not quiet. Silent.

Veyr stared at me.

Every trace of anger vanished from his face. That was worse.

I softened immediately. Not because I regretted the truth. Because I could see where it landed.

“You think becoming Veyr again means facing that.”

His voice was nearly inaudible. “You do not know what happened.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t.”

My anger had not disappeared.

But now it sat beside something else.

Understanding. Painful, frustrating understanding.

“But you don’t get to use what happened to decide my future.”

His gaze shifted. “I did not decide your future.”

“You limited my choices.”

“For your protection.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

He stared at me.

“At first? Fine. You didn’t know me. You didn’t trust the Crown restriction. You thought the threat was real.” I pointed toward the terminal again. “But later, you knew better.”

His mouth tightened.

“You knew that whoever built my mission was terrified of royal contact. You knew the evidence was false. You knew the Veil might be compromised.”

“Yes. Yes to all of it.”

“And you still never told me that going to Anik was an option.”

His silence answered.

My throat tightened.

“You would have me running in circles like you’ve been doing for the last eight years. You let me think there was nowhere else to go because you didn’t want to go there.”

“Talia—”