We choose but once. To some we are obsessed madmen. To others, devoted chevaliers.

—Lord Deryn Mercant (circa 1506)

BECAUSE CANTO HAD asked and not tried to command, she rose and walked over to stand next to his empty chair. “What is it?”

“Will you sit in my chair?”

Payal didn’t understand the point of his request, but she was feeling exposed enough not to be battle ready. She sat—the chair was too big for her, of course, made as it was to accommodate a much larger frame … and it held the scent of Canto. She took a surreptitious inhale, then another.

“That chair,” Canto said in his gritty voice, which was like a touch over her skin, “it helps me function in the world. It’s a tool.”

Payal nodded. “Of course.”

“But when they did the operations on my spine, the surgeons never promised me the repairs would hold for a lifetime. There could come a day when they fail and I end up losing function over most of my body.”

She saw it now, what he was doing, the pattern he was laying over her own. Her eyes wanted to burn hot, her chest to tighten. “Tools,” she whispered.

“Yes, baby, just tools.” He reached out a hand.

Her body locked. To touch a male voluntarily? It was an action she hadn’t taken in a long time. But when Canto began to drop his hand, she jerked up her own and wove her fingers through his. The skin of his fingers was rough, the fabric of his glove on the top inner part not leather-synth but a softer, more breathable material with light padding behind it.

She tried to think, to absorb all the textures of him, but the shock of the contact was an explosion through her system, overwhelming her capacity to process it in a rational way.

“We’re in charge of our tools,” Canto gritted out in that way he had—with a confident determination that brooked no argument. “If the fucking things fail one day, or our bodies stop cooperating, we’ll find new tools—because you and I, 3K, we’re survivors.”

Her fingers clenched on his, hard, so hard. “If the meds fail, I won’t be rational, not as I am now.” She needed him to understand that the screaming little girl would always be a part of her.

“I met you before the meds, remember?” Canto lifted their clasped hands to brush his lips over her skin, the touch slight—and the eye contact constant, so she could deny him at any instant. “Our bond will hold in all our guises. Would you break it if I end up bedbound, only my eyes capable of movement?”

Payal saw then his private nightmare. As losing herself to the compulsions and aberrant impulses was hers. “No,” she whispered, her hand spasming tight around his. “Our bond is unbreakable.” In speaking those words, she knew them for the truth.

Canto Mercant and Payal Rao were tied by an invisible thread not even the worst horror could break.

She could trust him.

The realization was a cataclysmic shock that sent a tremor through her.

CANTO didn’t want to let Payal go. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold on until she could breathe again without grasping herself so tight. But she was like a wary wild bird, one that had barely taken a step toward him.

He had to be careful, not startle her.

So when she flexed her hand open, he released her. And when she rubbed her fingers at her temples and said she had a migraine, needed to return to Vara to rest, he said, “Can you make a meeting early tomorrow afternoon? I want to introduce you to the anchor advisory board.”

Payal gave a crisp nod. “I’ll make the time.” Already, he could see her pulling her walls around herself, the same walls that had led Gia Khan to label her robotic.

Gia Khan was full of shit—and full of envy. The politically active M-Psy who’d been a friend of the old Council knew that Payal was a far better woman and a far better Psy than she’d ever be.

This was no longer her world. This was Payal’s world.

“Hey,” he said when Payal smoothed her hands over her jeans in readiness for a teleport.

When she glanced at him, he said, “This? Best night of my life.”

She went motionless, then was gone. But the imprint of her lingered on his palm, the ferocious strength of her grip a silent testament to trust. Canto curled his fingers inward, trying to hold on to the fragile promise in that grip.

PAYAL slept deep and well that night, though she’d expected to toss and turn. When she woke, it was to a stabbing moment of shock at all she’d shared with Canto, but that passed in a cascade of memory. Of galaxies and tools and the freedom to just be. Whatever was happening between the two of them, it had nothing to do with the outside world—and that included anchor business.

Those night hours had been theirs, private and alone.

She almost contacted him and made a request to repeat the experience, but hesitated at the last second. The previous night had been an interaction out of time, lit by starlight and apart from reality; she had no idea what Canto might think of it now. What he might think of her and her chemically imbalanced brain.

Yes, baby, just tools.

Her hand tightened into a fist, holding on to the rough tenderness of his words as she got up to ready herself for the day. Part of that preparation included finishing the protein bar he’d given her—she’d retrieved it before she left.

Foolish, it was foolish to be so affected by his way of giving her food.

She still ate it down to the last bite.

Then it was time to walk out into the battlefield of Vara. She managed to make it through to early afternoon without running into Lalit or being summoned by her father. Surprised by the latter, she glanced at her message stream and saw that Ruhi had responded to a call request from Pranath.

Sir, before I disturb Ms. Rao, I thought you’d like to know that she is deep into planning the upcoming Jervois bid.

Her father had replied that he’d speak to Payal tomorrow.

That had been clever of Ruhi, to gain Payal time without offending Pranath. Payal sent a note to her assistant praising her for the act. Ruhi seemed to be in Payal’s corner—if only because she knew Lalit never would have promoted her to her current high-level position. Payal’s brother preferred male assistants.

Whether Ruhi was actually “hers” remained an open question. The assistant could have been told to take actions for her boss’s benefit exactly so Payal would begin to trust her. Just as well Payal trusted no one.