Ronan’s knowledge. Everything he had learned about wielding the mind as a subtle weapon and shielding it from attack, the varied and effective means of deceiving the lesser talents of the Concordat. And more: the focus and discipline to use it as only the most highly trained individual could hope to do.
Tyr had tried to take her life, her will, herself. Ronan had given.
“No,” she said. She grabbed Ronan’s shoulders and pulled him up. His eyes were glazed, unseeing. She shook him, and then in her terror she slapped him hard enough to leave an impression of her hand on his cheek.
He focused. “Do they listen to us? Can we speak freely?”
Scylla’s teeth. He asked her. He expected her to know, and she did. She knew she’d feel it in an instant if anyone tried to eavesdrop telepathically.
“Have you given it all to me,” she asked, “or only shared it? Ronan!”
He drew up onto his knees with quiet dignity. “I have not lost my knowledge, or my skill. But I will not be able to use telepathy… for some time. You must act in my place.”
It all became sickeningly clear. Ronan had exhausted the stores of his mental strength down to the last cell and synapse, just as a man might deplete his body’s energy after a hard swim of many kilometers. He couldn’t recover without a long rest, if he recovered at all. VelRauthi wouldn’t give him the chance.
“Why?” she begged.
But she knew. Perhaps he had not intended that she realize the truth, but he couldn’t give so much of himself and keep it from her.
“You do plan to die,” she said. “You want revenge, but you don’t want to take me down with you. So you gave me the means to protect myself while you remain vulnerable.”
“Forgive the deception,” he said hoarsely, “but it was necessary. When VelRauthi comes for us, which he must do very soon, you will agree to give him whatever he wants to know. You have the means and understanding to share only what you wish, and the intelligence and courage to succeed.”
“Not without you.”
He shook his head. “No time. Hold VelRauthi’s attention and distract him from me. You know how. I will get to the communications console and send a message to those who would help you.”
She cursed, and he smiled. “You will do this, ina-ma. If I succeed in sending the message, I will probably not survive. VelRauthi will quickly realize that I am too weak to resist him, but I will engage him long enough to allow you to escape the bridge. Make yourself unseen and find a place to hide.” He stopped her protest with a twitch of his hand. “Either the ones I call will come, or VelRauthi will find you and take you to Kinsman headquarters.”
“Why should they?”
“With the abilities you display, they will believe that your importance to the Concordat must surely be greater than they imagined. But your shielding is also greater than ever before. All you must do is delay them until allies come to find you.”
“Allies? In the Shaauriat?”
“Yes, even here. They will hear you if you tell them you are the lifemate of Ronan Kane VelKalevi Challinor, for my parents’ sake.”
“But I’m not your lifemate, am I? If I were, you wouldn’t leave me.” Her voice broke. “What good will they do us if you’re dead?”
“You will survive to return to the Concordat, and you will work for peace with shaauri-ja.”
“Why should I?” Bitterness scorched her throat like tears. “I owe nothing to the shaauri.”
“But you want peace and freedom for your own people. I know your heart, ina-ma.”
Ina-ma. Her new Voishaaur vocabulary supplied the definition.
My breath. My soul. Beloved.
He didn’t touch her, offered no caresses to prove the sincerity of the word. But he meant it. God help them both, he meant it utterly.
“It will be your vengeance against the Kinsmen for my life,” he said. “You have all the knowledge you need to do this, Cynara. You already possess the courage.”
“You’re wrong. We’re both cowards, Ronan.”