She did. The Pegasus broke orbit and leaped away from Dharma, grazing the stars with spread wings.
Home. Space was home as Dharma could never be. And if her doubts and fears about Ronan proved as empty as vacuum, the loss of the Pegasus would be well worth the sacrifice.
If not… Scylla take it, let that ocean be crossed when she came to it.
Kord closed the door to the cabin and stood just inside, as grim as Ronan had ever seen him.
“Well, my Brother?” he asked. “What has happened to make Cynara look at you like the bottom of a dry well?”
The metaphor was apt. A man from a desert world might well regard an empty well with longing, resentment, and fear, as a human would look upon lost hopes.
“I’d be sun-blind if I couldn’t see what was brewing between you,” Kord said, sitting on the edge of Ronan’s bunk. “I know—” He glanced at the bulkhead. “I know that you were together at Magnus Jesper’s.”
Together. Did Kord truly know what that meant? “We both had lodgings there.”
“And Janek was right, wasn’t he? She discovered something about you that alarmed her, even though she was prepared to risk her captaincy to get you away from the Council.”
Ronan sat down beside Kord and clasped his hands between his knees. “It is for Aho’Va to speak of such things as she wills,” he said. “I honor her courage and intelligence.”
“Do you? The captain didn’t lock you in this cabin without reason.” He leaned forward. “Tell me now, Brother. Do you intend harm to her or this ship?”
Did Kord trust that he would tell the truth, that the blood-bond between them was just as serious a matter to Ronan as it was to the Siroccan? How could he assume so much?
Yet he was correct. Ronan owed Kord for the escape from Dharma, but there was more to this bond than gratitude. Ronan could not regard it lightly, not even for the sake of his mission.
“I mean no harm to Cynara,” he said, “nor to the crew of the Pegasus.”
“I believe you. But my belief is of no importance. Whatever the captain commands, I must do. I swore loyalty to her as my Watergiver—my clan mother.”
“She honors you greatly.”
“But it is you she has chosen.” Kord met his gaze, stark and serious. ‘There is a new strain between you, Brother. And it is because you are my brother that I warn you again: Do not hurt her. Do not betray her trust. She doubts herself when she can least afford such distractions.” He shook his head. “I know little of these powers of the mind, but this thing you share can either bind you or drive you apart. Do not waste this great gift.”
He rose suddenly and strode for the door. “Remember what I’ve said, Brother.”
The door sealed behind him—locked, to be opened only by those with explicit permission, or by bearers of the few passcards that bestowed admittance to every part of the ship. Cynara had such a card, and so had Janek before she demanded its surrender. There must be others as well.
Ronan’s conversation with Kord had changed nothing; it had only reminded him of the odds he faced. He must find schematics on the Pegasus’s engines or, barring that, a way into the engine room without harming the crew of the Pegasus.
Seducing Cynara was clearly out of the question, but not because of Kord’s warning or even the barriers Cynara had placed between them. The hesitation was in his own heart. He had pushed too hard with her and dared not do so again.
She was his enemy. She always had been, no matter how much he had pretended otherwise. The pain he felt now was apt punishment for losing sight of the truth. Sihvaaro had told him a thousand times that all suffering was transient, as meaningless in the face of eternity as one Path apart from the others.
He lay on the bunk, pushing aside the pillows and blankets in favor of the hard, fortifying metal surface. He was still awake when the door opened and Archimedes the cat ran in and leaped onto his chest.