Noctisardor Bypass I own that technology now.

For Druid? His expression wavered. But I did not —  sleep vith Druid. He fell short with a clap of his jaws.

Stop trying to take care of me, Anselm. How could she say that?

Heda stopped, staring down at the cache in a way that made Anselm wonder if she was unhinged. She closed her eyes, a long moment spreading its unsatisfying fingers between them.

Druid again. Anselm exhaled forcefully through flaring nostrils. Heda acted as if the lie wasn’t in the room with them — as if she’d conceived immaculately like the prized jezebel of her strange and inconsistent religion.

No hard feelings? How could she say that, too? His chest welled with plenty of hard feelings, all of which clawed at his heart. Ve vouldn’t be here if ve did not vant to help! How do you not see? You asked us to stay. Now you tell me you don’t care if I leave. Anselm repeated thickly, his voice capturing the hurt he tried to bury. Was he so disposable?

He wanted to be needed. He wanted for both of them — Druid and Heda — to see he was here for them, that he’d been hurt for them, that he’d fought for them and Etienne. Like Glaukos, Anselm’s version of reality felt attacked by the constant whittling coldness Heda emanated.

You — He gestured to her sides, that narrow body he’d once held with more conviction than anything. He couldn’t let it go.  You lied. You didn’t take care of them. An accusation he didn’t want to believe, but knew it must be true. And now you tell me you don’t care if I leave like it didn’t mean anything.  To stop trying to take care of you. His golden gaze simmered with hurt as she dragged two sodden sparrows from their interment. I thought I vas bad — but it is you.