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Running required distance.
Returning required intent.
By the time Talia and I left the temporary room, the decision had already changed the shape of everything.
We were no longer trying to disappear.
We were trying to get close enough to the Crown to be seen.
That was considerably more dangerous.
I led us through two districts on foot before taking a freight transport under an old civilian routing identity that had never been connected to the Veil.
Talia sat beside me with her bag between her knees and the isolated evidence module tucked inside the lining.
She had insisted on carrying one copy.
I had objected. Briefly. Then stopped.
That was becoming another skill.
The transport moved through the outer commercial sector toward a junction where ordinary civilian traffic intersected with government logistics.
Not royal territory. Not yet.
Talia watched the route display. “So what’s the plan?”
“I have several.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is preferable to having one.”
She glanced at me. For half a second, something warmer passed between us.
Not repaired. Not fully. But present.
“We cannot use standard transit into central Zunator,” I said. “Your administrative status may still trigger Review Enforcement. My operational designation is now hostile.”
“Good start,” she said, her voice flat.
I shook my head. “Military corridors are worse.”
“Because of you?” She didn’t look at me, her eyes tracking the route display.
“Yes.”
“And the Veil.”
“Yes.”
She finally turned, her expression tight. “What about going directly to royal security?”
“They would intercept us before we reached it.”
“Who?” The word was sharp, impatient.
“Possibly Review. Possibly military security. Possibly the Veil.”
