Page 33 of The Alien in the Archive

But now…it’s soothing.

What’s less soothing is her milling thoughts, and the fact that she still isn’t doing a thing to keep me out of her dreams.

She’s sitting at the low circular table in our secret reading nook, bent over a page of scrawled Borean symbols. Her brows knit together in concentration, her tongue peeking out slightly at the corner of her mouth.

It’s maddeningly endearing.

“Your stroke’s too heavy,” I say, peering over her shoulder.

“I thought you said this language was impossible to learn,” she replies without looking up.

“It is.”

“Then why does it matter if I’m writing it wrong?”

I can’t help the faint smirk tugging at my lips. “Becausethere’s no point in learning something impossible if you’re going to do it poorly.”

She stops mid-stroke and looks up at me, silver-grey eyes narrowing. “You’re really bad at motivational speeches, you know that?”

“Motivation is overrated.” I straighten, walking around the table to stand beside her. “Precision, however, is essential. Move.”

She scoots over, making just enough room for me to sit beside her. She’s built herself a nest of cushions, Ashlan purring in her lap, antennae glowing a faint pink. “You don’t have to hover,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I can figure it out.”

“And yet here you are, mangling the script of an ancient and dangerous language,” I reply, placing my hand around hers, shifting our grip on the pen.

Her lips twitch like she’s suppressing a grin, but she lets me guide her hand as I shape the first letter of the next word. Her fingers are smaller than mine, warm against my touch, and for a moment, I’m acutely aware of how close we are. Too close.

“There,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended. “Try it again.”

She mimics the motion, her movements smoother now, and glances at me for approval. I nod, trying to ignore the strange twist of pride in my chest.

“So, what does it mean?” she asks, pointing to the line she just finished.

“It’s a fragment of a treaty between Boreans and humans. An agreement to trade energy cores during the early days of interstellar expansion.”

Her brows lift. “So Borean was basically the galaxy’s most intimidating contract language?”

I chuckle softly. “In a sense. It’s precise, unyielding, andeasy to twist how you will it. The perfect language for diplomacy.”

“Or manipulation.”

I grimace. “For my people, it was often the same thing.”

“And yet,” she says, her tone teasing, “you’re teaching it to me. A mere mortal with clumsy handwriting.”

I don’t reply immediately, my gaze lingering on the curve of her cheek as she looks back down at the page.Because I wanted to,I think but don’t say.Because I wanted to share something with you no one else has.

Instead, I lean back, reluctantly abandoning the heat of her body. “You’re improving,” I admit grudgingly.

She beams, and I scowl at how much I like the sight of her smile.

“So,” she says after a moment, not looking up from her work. “Davina seemed really interested in the notes I shared with her.”

My jaw tightens. “Did she now?”

Page looks up, sensing the edge in my voice. “I thought you’d already know. You seem to know everything…and I did let you in, after all. I could feel you listening.”

I do know. I had felt the flicker of her decision as she walked to Davina’s office, seen the threads of her thoughts as she laid the pages before her supervisor. And hearing her say it…I feel an uncomfortable combination of frustration and pleasure. I like that she let me in, that she has a door in her mind that’s open only to me.

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