Page 34 of The Alien in the Archive

But I don’t like sharing this information with anyone but her.

Or…maybe I don’t like sharingher.

“She’s your supervisor,” I say flatly. “Of course you’d share something she has no context for, something that could potentially put us both at risk. That makes perfect sense.”

Her brow furrows at my tone. “Thorne, I wasn’t going tohoard the information forever. It’s not like this history belong to us—and I came here for a reason, not just to know things. What’s the point in having the truth if I don’t share it?”

“It’s not about that, Page,” I sigh. “It’s about understanding what you’re dealing with before you hand it over to someone who might not.”

I close my eyes in annoyance. When I look back at Page, her eyes narrow, and I see the flicker of defiance rising in her. “Davina’s not justsomeone, and you know that. She’s my advisor—and a great scholar who’s done amazing work. If anyone can help me make sense of this, it’s her.”

“Help you make sense of it?” I repeat, my voice colder now. “Is that what you want? For someone else to interpret my words? To strip them down into bite-sized pieces that fit neatly into the narrative you’re supposed to follow?”

She huffs out a frustrated breath. “What is your problem? You’ve been impossible since I got here tonight. If this isn’t about the notes, then what is it?”

My problem?My problem is that I liked having something with her; something just for us, untainted by the endless bureaucracy of the Grand Library or the prying eyes of the world outside. I wanted to teach her, to share pieces of myself she couldn’t find in a book or an archive.

And she handed it to Davina like it was raw archival material.

Because that’s all I’ll be to her eventually: a footnote.

“I thought you understood.” My voice is quieter now, but no less cold. “What I’m teaching you isn’t something to be cataloged or filed away. It’s dangerous knowledge, Page. And you telling your Skoll advisor could be a matter of life and death for me.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. I can feel her mind racing, trying to parse my meaning.

“You’re not just angry because I told her,” she says after a moment. Her voice is softer, searching. “You’re angry because it wasn’t just ours anymore.”

I wince despite myself.

She’s not wrong.

I don’t answer right away, and she leans in closer, her gaze holding mine. “Thorne, you don’t own me. You don’t own my work, or my choices. I appreciate what you’ve taught me, but this isn’t just your legacy—it’s mine too.”

She’s right, but the thought of her sharing what we’ve built with someone else, anyone else, still feels like a betrayal.

“Do you know what Davina will do with it?” I ask, my voice quieter now. “She’ll take your brilliance and stamp it with her approval. She’ll file it under her name, her project, and you’ll lose the chance to own it completely.”

“That’s not true,” Page counters, but there’s a flicker of doubt in her voice.

I cock my head to the side, narrowing my eyes at her. “You think she won’t? You’re naïve if you believe that. She’ll dissect it, dilute it, and leave you with nothing but the scraps of what you discovered.”

“Why are you being like this?” She shakes her head, her jaw tight. “You don’t know that. And even if it happens, it doesn’t change the fact that I needed her perspective.”

“You needed someone to validate you?” I ask, my voice sharp. “What about me, Page? Wasn’t I enough?”

Her breath catches, and I see the flush rise in her cheeks. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” I stand up to get further away from her, forcing myself to retreat before I say something worse. “I’m trying to protect you. To give you something no one else can. And you handed it away.”

She stares at me, her eyes wide, and I can feel the weight of my words sinking in.

“I don’t need your protection,” she replies finally, her voice quieter but no less firm. “I need your trust.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. I should apologize. I should explain. But instead, I avert my gaze, my fists clenching at my sides.

“Fine,” I say, my voice tight. “Do what you want. Just don’t expect me to clean up the mess when it falls apart.”

Her face hardens, and she turns back to the table, picking up the pen again. “Noted.”

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