Okay. So she had no idea who you are—that’s good, right? No recognition. On the one hand, okay, one secret safe for now. Then again, she has no bloody clue who she is and that’s not a good thing.
“Those bastards,” he muttered under his breath. “Those godsdamned bastards.”
He glanced back over his shoulder toward the spare bedroom where he’d tucked her into bed after carrying her to his cottage in the wilds from the smoldering ruin he’d left of the Veritan installation. She’d been the only prisoner and that thought alone had been enough to turn his stomach. It was something he’d seen before, but not here, never in the Protected Zone.
He wasn’t sure how Kelcie O’Shaughnessy had managed to piss off the Veritan League enough to warrant what they’d done and what he knew they’d planned to do, but he wasn’t going to let them finish what they’d started. For the first night, he’d been worried that maybe he’d come too late. Val had come the next morning with Daria and after the former ship’s doctor looked at the files and then at Kelcie, she’d assured him that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared. Still, the lack of recognition—and her clear confusion—meant that things had gone far enough.
She’s got choices, though, being here—being found here. He sank slowly into a chair in front of his fireplace, staring at the cold logs piled on the hearth. Whether she remembers anything or not, she’s got choices. Stay. Go. Drop out of sight. Start over. Go back, pick up where she left off.
Choices.
For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, fighting down a sudden surge of guilt and pain that tightened his throat and soured his stomach. There was no reason to believe that she’d make the same ones he had. Most people wouldn’t, but he’d had his reasons. Even if he’d never expressed them to anyone, he still knew that they were good enough if he ever had to. People would understand.
At least that was he told himself on the nights when the ache was the worst.
A floorboard creaked and his gaze snapped toward the bedroom door. She leaned there, staring at him steadily, a hint of panic buried beneath a mask of resolve. “Do you know who I am?”
“Does it matter if I do?”
Her jaw tightened. “Do you, or don’t you?”
He inclined his head slightly. “Do you?”
“No,” she said simply, standing up a little straighter. She’d wrapped herself in one of the blankets from the bed and she just stood there in the doorway, staring at him with a stubborn set to her jaw and an almost authoritative tilt to her chin. “And I don’t know why I don’t know, either. Do you?”
He inclined his head again. “There were records where I found you.”
“Can I see them?”
“Are you sure you want to?” He twisted in the chair, leaning over the armrest with a casualness he didn’t quite feel. It was a struggle to keep the tension from showing in his shoulders and jaw and he found it was a fight to keep any hint of the same out of his voice. “Once you see what they were planning for you, there’s no unseeing it. It’ll haunt you.”
Her expression softened slightly, her brow furrowing. “It’s that bad?”
He stayed quiet, holding her gaze for a few seconds. She finally looked away, swallowing hard. Her head bobbed in a single, quick nod.
“Right.” She took a tentative, limping step out of the doorway. “You said something about clean clothes and a bath?”
“Yeah.” He unfolded from the chair. “Just give me a minute to take care of that. Be careful with the splint.”
“Is it broken?”
“The healer that looked at your wrist said probably. She wasn’t sure what was going on with the knee.” He didn’t look at her as he headed for the bathroom. He’d filled his huge copper tub earlier, in anticipation of her waking, and a clean towel and fresh clothes were folded on a stool next to it, along with a cake of soap. For a second, he frowned. Should have asked for a brush when Val and Daria came. Wasn’t thinking, I guess.
Closing his eyes, he leaned down slightly, splaying his hands, palms down, over the surface of the water. It was easy, the spell to heat the water, easier than most of what he did beyond maybe lighting candles and lamps.
He heard her breath catch and opened his eyes, glancing up to see her standing in the bathroom’s doorway, staring wide-eyed at the tub and the steam that beginning to rise from the water. He knew that she’d seen, knew that she’d just watched him bring the water from room temperature to steaming hot without a hint of flame.
“What planet is this?” She whispered. “Where am I?”
He wet his lips, straightening. “The locals call it Centrallia.”
“The locals,” she echoed, slowly unwrapping the blanket. She was still in the prisoner’s jumpsuit he’d found her in and the sight of it made his jaw tighten, made his fingers curl unbidden into fists. Spotting his reaction, she winced slightly, glancing away as she started to fold the blanket. He forced himself to relax.
“Yes,” he said, glancing away. “We’re in the Protected Zone. On a starmap, this would be Trallia V.”
“But the people here call it Centrallia.”
He nodded, swallowing as he stepped carefully around the tub, headed for the door. “Yeah. Because why would they call it something else? It’s the fifth world of a nine-planet system. In the center. Centrallia.”
“Makes sense,” she murmured. “Towel, soap, all of that is for me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll—if I’m not in the other room when you’re done, I’ll probably be outside. Take as long as you want.” He paused for a moment, then moved back to the tub, fingers brushing along a set of runes etched into he rim. They glowed slightly with the trickle of magic he’d infused them with for a second, then the glow faded and he stepped back again. “Water should stay hot for at least an hour, maybe a little longer. I’ve never actually been awake to feel it get cold.”
“I take it you’ve fallen asleep in the tub before?”
“More than once,” he said with a faint, wry smile. “Like I said. Take as long as you want.”
She smiled back, tremulously, and nodded. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. Yeah, no problem.” He ducked out of the bathroom, tugging the door firmly shut behind him, not looking back, not listening to see if she came back to the door to lock it. He went straight to the bench by his front door and sat down to put on his boots. He needed air. He needed to think.
If the Veritan League is starting to try to bury people here, that doesn’t bode well for anyone in the Protected Zone—or anywhere else.
The poison is spreading. The only question is what to do about it.
It was a question to which he had no answer—but he feared that once upon a time, the girl in his bathroom who couldn’t remember her own name did and that was what had landed her where she was now.
The worst of it was, he wasn’t sure what to do about that or if he was really going to have a choice in the matter either way. He knew what he suspected.
Either way, it was not going to be his choice to make.
