Page 11 of Claimed By the Wraiths

“It would crawl in at night and settle against my ribs. If I moved it, it came back.” I could still remember the low trill against my chest, more vibration than sound.

Jessa’s expression changed. Not teasing now. Softer, which was worse.

“What was its name?”

“No.”

“Serak.”

“No.”

“You brought this on yourself.”

I should have stopped.

“Mairuke.”

She repeated it carefully. “Mairuke.”

Hearing it in her voice did something I didn’t examine.

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing relevant.”

“That means it absolutely means something.”

“It means we were discussing Tal.”

Her hand came down over mine on the table. Warm. Light.

“You are impossible.”

“I’ve been told.”

I had given her a useless fact from before the Raptor, before Vain, before anyone called me captain, and somehow it felt more exposing than a mission report.

“The plan,” I said, pulling us back. “Tal. Where is he now?”

“Attending a diplomatic conference at Meridian Station. Nine days total. Tal chairs the trade subcommittee on day three.”

“And you want to go.”

Her chin lifted. “I can get in. Clean credentials, no connection to the Raptor, and I know Tal’s face. Nobody else on this ship can say all three.”

“Jessa.”

She turned back to me. A strand of hair fell along the side of her face. I wanted to push it back.

I shut that down so hard the skin across my knuckles went black.

The bond comes once, my mother told me, young enough that I thought it was romantic. I’d spent the years since learning it was a warning.

Mine had chosen a woman with loose hair and a plan to walk into the enemy’s den. And I couldn’t stop it.

“We’ll brief the crew,” I said. “Full plan. Tomorrow.”

She glanced at my fists on the table. I hadn’t realized they were fists.