Chapter 12: Rhys

The wall of old hull plates ran along the east side of the yard.

Rhys Denholm stood on top of it with his hands behind his back.

Maxine climbed up beside him.

Overhead, the cracked dome glowed dull orange, and in the far lane a white shape was growing, slow and enormous.

"Ten minutes," Rhys said. "Maybe fifteen."

"You wanted to tell me something."

"Two things." He kept his eyes on the sky. "The first is practical."

"Each of us carries a Court implant behind the left ear. It was put in at exile."

"It's tied to a key the High Marshal keeps."

Her stomach turned over.

"What does it do?"

"It can stop a heart in four seconds." His voice was perfectly level.

"Isak has tried to cut his out twice. The wiring runs too close to the spine."

"You've known for four years."

"I've known for four years that I could be killed on a whim." He finally looked at her.

"I want you to hear it from me before you see it happen."

"I heard it," she said. "It changes nothing about what I want."

"And the second thing?"

For a moment he said nothing.

The wind pulled at his torn coat.

When he spoke, the flat voice was gone, and what came out was quiet, low and raw.

"I have not touched anyone in four years. I have refused every comfort."

"I thought I had killed six women, and a man who has done that has no right to want."

"Rhys..."

"You are the first thing in four years I have not wanted to refuse."

His throat moved.

"I am not a man who says things easily. I want you. I have wanted you since you told me you wouldn't leave."

"Say it again."

"I want you, Maxine." He took a step, until there was no space between them.

"Tonight. Here. Before he lands. If I only have one night left, I want it to be this one."

"I am thirty-four, and I have never wanted anything the way I want this."

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