Page 87 of Warrior’s Mate

She waited for fear to sharpen. It did, but it was no longer alone. There was grief, fatigue, anger, purpose—and beneath all of those, the bond with Kaiven, steady without demanding anything from her.

"All right," she said.

He studied her. "All right?"

"You keep expecting me to become a different person because the stakes are larger."

"I keep hoping you will develop a sensible fear of uncertainty."

"I have an excellent fear of uncertainty. I simply refuse to worship it."

Kaiven reached for her hand. This time there was no hesitation in the gesture and no urgency either. He took it because he wanted contact and because he knew she could release him whenever she chose.

A final group of evacuees crossed the field. Behind them, the horizon brightened into a color too red to be sunrise alone.

Maelis looked back at Farseek.

She did not know when she would see Wasaytu again. The thought struck harder here than it had inside the relief station, perhaps because departure gave uncertainty a direction. Somewhere beyond the smoke were the Exchange, the market, the irrigation channels, the old seed vault, and thousands of people whose names now existed in a system she had helped begin.

"I should have gone home," she said.

Kaiven did not ask which home she meant.

"There was no time," he said.

"I know. I keep thinking of stupid things. A bowl in the kitchen. A coat I left on the back of a chair. Records I complained about having to archive last week."

"Those aren't stupid things."

"They feel stupid when people are dead."

"No." His voice was quiet. "They feel ordinary. That's why they hurt."

She looked at him.

Kaiven's gaze remained on the horizon. "I used to think soldiers defended worlds. Today I think perhaps we defend the possibility of bowls left on tables and coats on chairs."

"That is almost poetry."

"Do not tell anyone."

"Your reputation is safe with me."

A boarding alarm sounded. Maelis took one last look at the red horizon, then turned toward the transport.

At the ramp she stopped beside the manifest station and checked the total. Eight hundred and twelve people across the three ships, including military crews. Not an army. Not a fleet. A small moving piece of Farseek carrying wounded, technicians, families, tools, medical supplies, seeds, and one ruda correctly recorded as a household dependent.

She signed the manifest. Kaiven signed beneath her as security liaison.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No," Maelis said.

He waited.

She squeezed his hand. "Let's go anyway."

Before they left the room, Maelis added two names to the registry. KAIVEN DARATU — ALIVE — ASSIGNED RELIEF DETACHMENT. MAELIS TORREN — ALIVE — CIVILIAN REGISTRY SUPPORT, RELIEF DETACHMENT.