Page 68 of Claimed By the Wraiths

“I can manage that.”

“Good. If you try to prove otherwise, I’ll sedate you.” He packed his kit and straightened. “The silver traces are permanent. Your pigmentation has restructured at the cellular level. You’re going to look like that from now on.”

I looked at my hands. The dark was gone. What was left was my natural skin color, Khavai deep brown, traced with silver lines that followed the pathways the connection had carved.

Light written into me. Her fingerprints in my biology.

The shadow-meld was still there underneath, quiet, waiting. Not burned out. If I ever had to walk the dark road again, it would answer.

I hoped I never would.

“I’ve looked worse,” I said.

“You’ve looked worse today.” He helped me to my feet. Jessa took my other arm. Between them, I stood.

We walked out of the comm hub corridor and the crew was there.

All of them.

Not in formation. Not reporting.

Just there, filling the corridor with nine people breathing the same air.

Ressh leaned against the wall with Alix under his arm, her head against his shoulder, his traceries moving in slow gold patterns. Thoryn stood behind Maris with his arms around her. Zevik sat on the floor with his back to the wall, feather crest flat from exhaustion, a scorch mark on his jacket and a grin that should have been illegal after the day we’d had.

Deyric sat cross-legged beside him with three datapads open.

Of course he did.

Nobody spoke for a while.

Four thousand cell doors had opened. The station was still humming around us, but the sound had changed. Less machinery. More voices.

Ressh finally looked at me. “We found Tal.”

I straightened as much as the ribs allowed.

“Administrative detention off security. Alix opened the door.”

“Condition?”

“Bruised. Furious. Asked for a datapad before he asked for food.”

Alix’s mouth moved. Almost a smile. “He’s on the Raptor now. Secure cabin. Lock on the inside. He’s drafting testimony for people who aren’t here yet.”

Good.

One more person accounted for.

Solren came up behind us and made an irritated sound. “Why is everyone standing in my corridor?”

“Your corridor?” Zevik asked.

“It is if I’m treating people in it.”

The Raptor had become a medical ward, prisoner transport, command post, and evidence archive at the same time. Every spare bunk had somebody in it. Every clear section of deck was being used for triage or supplies.

The first night belonged to medbay. Jessa stayed beside me while I slept, woke for fluids and food and scans, and slept again. By the following evening my core temperature was normal, my neural readings had held steady since morning, the burn seal was intact, and I hadn’t slipped once.