He met her gaze. “So do you, Aho’Va. And much more.”
She knew he was not referring to the slingshot drive, but she felt a stab of unexpected guilt. The shaauri knew of humanity’s new ship technology, and peace of any sort would be impossible in the face of such secrets.
But it wasn’t her right to give them up, and she knew that Ronan wouldn’t share what he knew without her permission. Their loyalty to each other was no longer in question.
“Hraan and his crew will be in danger if (hey enter Concordat space,” she said. “If I went ahead, in a lifepod—”
“Hraan understands the risk, but this is what he wishes. He was a good friend of my father, though he was not of high position in those days. Still he blames himself for my parents’ disappearance and my abduction.”
“He has no idea what became of Lady Kori and VelArhan?”
“None. But he has agreed to assist me in pursuing the question with greater vigor.”
“Apparently, guilt is also a shaauri emotion,” she murmured.
“Arhan and certain other Lines always wished for peace with humans. Though Arhan could not stand against all the antihuman Lines, they would have protected me if they knew I survived. But they did not discover this until Sihvaaro sent word.”
“Hraan would protect you now, if you remained among the Arhan.”
She watched his face, deliberately dampening her mental awareness so as not to intrude. But the flicker in his eyes betrayed him.
She was right. He had not given up on the idea of becoming shaauri, finding his Path at last among those who had raised him. She was superfluous to that part of his life. The feelings they shared were irrelevant to the creation of a new world.
“Now Arhan will approach the War-Leader and speak openly of an end to war,” Ronan said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You must speak to Miklos Challinor. He and the Archon might modify human opinion.”
Cynara closed her eyes. “We’re talking of peace, Ronan. Real peace after twenty years.”
“It is possible. You and I are proof. I survived among the Kalevi, and you won their respect. It can be done.”
Strangely, Cynara remembered Gunter on Bifrost, whose hatred of shaauri was absolute. And the Kalevii, most of whom would gladly see all humans dead.
Not everyone can overcome that kind of hatred, even if the Kinsmen are exposed as traitors. One man and woman against the Concordat, one Line against all shaauri…
“A single woman of your world once stood against a thousand shaauri and laid the Path to peace,” Ronan said softly.
The mug slipped from Cynara’s hands. A few brown drops of liquid spilled on the woven carpet.
“You heard me,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Yes. My mind is beginning to heal. It may recover completely in time.”
Cynara grabbed Ronan in a fierce embrace. He returned her kiss with a hunger she could not mistake.
There was still a little time before the Suhtaara reached the border. Time enough for farewells. But the shaauri used three very different phrases at parting. She didn’t dare voice any of them.
Ronan threw his mug aside and fell with her onto the bunk. They were halfway undressed when a high-pitched, mechanical shriek interrupted them. Ronan released Cynara and stared at the door. A second later it opened, and a young shaaurin entered with a bob of apology.
The female—Cynara had begun to recognize such distinctions—spoke to Ronan with barely contained excitement. Ronan nodded, and she bounded away.
“Something has happened,” Cynara said. “Ships—”
His expression was grim. “We are still a full day from the wormhole to Concordat territory, but a complication has arisen. Three ships stand in our path. Human ships.
“It is now a question of who will attack first.”
* * *
Chapter 29
« ^
Two ve’laik’i were waiting just outside to escort Ronan and Cynara to the bridge. They ran most of the way, the alarm screaming in their ears, while shaauri crew went about their business with flattened ears and fur on end.
The bridge was an oasis of quiet in spite of the crisis, but the tranquility was deceptive. The smell of tension and hostility was thick on the air. The ship’s Second and Third stood beside their chairs on the level below the First’s station, watching the central screen with its ominous image.