Page 48 of Warrior’s Mate

"Yes."

He touched her face, fingertips against her cheek. Nothing about the gesture was urgent, though urgency surrounded them. His thumb traced once beneath her eye, and Maelis felt the recognition between them like a current that had finally stopped trying to decide what it meant. She leaned into his hand because she wanted to. Kaiven's breath changed.

"I don't know how to do this slowly," he admitted.

"We're doing everything else quickly. Maybe this gets to be different."

"You may need to remind me."

"Repeatedly."

"I had gathered that."

She smiled, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. The moment stretched until Maelis knew she could close the distance—and knew she wanted to. A warning tone sounded upstairs, and Kaiven removed his hand first.

"Later," he said.

"That sounded suspiciously like confidence."

"Hope."

The distinction mattered. They climbed the stairs together. The command shuttle never made it to the western relay. It was hit three minutes after takeoff. Maelis saw the flash through the seed cooperative's narrow upper windows. A bright line crossed the sky, struck the shuttle behind the port engine, and turned the aircraft into a burning arc that vanished beyond the grain terraces. Every person in the room froze. Kaiven's face went bloodless. The shuttle he had wanted her on. He did not look at her immediately. When he finally did, there was no triumph in her, and no apology in him. Only the terrible recognition of chance.

"Survivors?" Maelis asked.

He was already on the comm. "Relay Three, crash response. Command shuttle down east of—" Static swallowed the rest. A second signal cut across the room. Sargan.

"Unsecured population detected. Remain stationary for collection."

Collection. The word moved through the cellar like poison. Kaiven switched channels. "All civilian groups, accelerate movement. Do not approach marked shelters. Repeat, do not approach marked shelters." Maelis brought up the routes.

"The shuttle crash will draw them east."

"Likely."

"Then we move west now."

He looked at her. This time there was no argument.

"Lead."

They moved. The next two hours destroyed any illusion that agreeing once had cured Kaiven of his protective instincts. He still positioned himself between Maelis and open doors. He still checked every room before allowing her inside. Twice he put a hand out automatically when weapons fire sounded nearby. But he also asked before redirecting her route. He listened when she told him a bridge could not take the weight of a military transport. When an officer suggested consolidating three civilian groups for easier defense, Kaiven rejected the plan before Maelis could speak.

"Concentration makes them easier to collect," he said.

Her own words, returned as doctrine. Near dusk, they reached the western relay: a squat communications and irrigation control building half buried in a hillside. Its primary antenna had been damaged, but the agricultural mesh still functioned across portions of the district. Maelis entered and found chaos. Messages flooded six consoles. Missing families. Blocked roads. Fires. Requests for medicine. Two reports of Sargan transports. One school shelter that had stopped responding entirely. She sat down. Kaiven remained behind her.

"What do you need?"

"Ten more hours and a functioning planet."

"I can probably provide neither."

"Then water."

A cup appeared beside her moments later. She drank without looking away from the screen. A new military packet arrived. Kaiven opened it on the adjacent console.

"We have an evacuation support group inbound from the west."