Page 70 of Savage Devotion
"Strip my command. Court martial for insubordination. Possible execution if they decide I've committed treason."
"Have you?"
She laughs bitterly. "Apparently that depends on your perspective. Heldrik thinks I have. My uncle thinks loyalty to family should override everything else, including personal feelings."
"Personal feelings."
"About you." She says it simply, without embellishment. "About us. About whatever this is that's been building between us."
Us.
The word carries weight I'm not ready to examine. Connection implies vulnerability, and vulnerability is a luxury I can't afford. Particularly not with someone who has already shown that her loyalties are complex.
But the admission changes things. Slightly. If she's telling the truth about the recall order, then she's already paid a price for whatever feelings she's developed. Even if she made that choice unconsciously, she already chose in some ways.
"What do you want from me?" I ask.
"Help me finish this. Find the spy network, expose the operation, clean out the corruption before it does more damage." She pauses. "And maybe... maybe figure out what happens after that."
"After."
"When the mission is over. When the political complications are resolved. When it's just you and me without all the other considerations."
The possibility is like hope and fear combined. A future without the clan obligations and House loyalties. A chance to build something real instead of something tactical.
But first we have to survive the next few hours.
First, we have to find a way out of this tomb.
First, we have to decide whether we can rebuild trust from broken pieces, or if some fractures run too deep to heal.
"The tunnel deeper in," I say, changing the subject to something manageable. "How far does it go?"
"I don't know. The maps only covered the major smuggling routes."
"Then we find out."
10
RESSA
The silence stretches between usl. Kaelgor studies the deeper tunnel entrance, calculating distances and dangers with the methodical care of surving too many ambushes. The set of his shoulders tells me he's already decided. We go deeper, together, and hope the smugglers' network provides an exit that doesn't involve digging through tons of collapsed stone.
But something's wrong. The air currents are all backward, flowing into the tunnel instead of out. And there's a smell underneath the dust and decay, something chemical and sharp that makes my nose burn.
Alchemical compounds.
"Kaelgor, wait."
He turns back, eyebrow raised. The gesture would be almost casual if not for the way his hand rests near his weapon, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble.
"The air flow. It's wrong."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning someone's been modifying these tunnels recently. Adding ventilation, maybe storage." I move closer to the tunnel mouth, trying to identify the acrid scent. "Or traps."
"Smugglers don't usually?—"
