Chapter 39

Death comes in endless forms. Of the body. Of the soul. Of the heart.

—Catriona Mercant, philosopher and warrior (circa 1419)

THEY’D COME FULL circle, Valentin thought as he sat beside Ena Mercant in the waiting room of the private hospital early the next morning. Once again, he waited to see if Silver would wake up, while beside him sat a regal woman who reminded him too much of the brilliant, driven telepath who was his other half.

“You’ve made a sacrifice.” Ena’s voice was as cool as always, as cool as Silver’s could get when she wanted to make a point.

“Grandmother, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“My granddaughter holds you in high esteem,” Ena said. “You could’ve convinced her to make a different choice.”

His head snapped toward her. “Hell no! I would’ve never done that!” Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet, stalked across the small space and back. “We’re talking about her life. If I could give up my own to save hers, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Ena’s eyes lifted to his, alpha to alpha. She gave a regal nod right as his bear was starting to rumble in his chest. “Regardless of today’s outcome, I won’t forget what you were to my granddaughter.”

Valentin thrust his hands through his already wildly tumbled hair, fought the urge to pull. Sitting down beside Ena, he did something he probably shouldn’t. He reached out and put his arm around her. She stiffened but didn’t pull away. “She’s magnificent. And she’s ours. We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect her.”

“Yes.”

That was all that needed to be said. They sat in silence until the doors to the operating theatre opened hours later. Ashaya and Amara Aleine walked out together with the surgeon, a fortysomething man of medium height. As expected, Amara broke off to head down the corridor in the opposite direction, while Ashaya and Dr. Edgard Bashir came toward them.

All were dressed in surgical white, though they’d removed the transparent gear that would’ve covered their heads and faces during the operation, as well as all other accoutrements of the surgical suite.

A man with disheveled dark blond hair exited in their wake, jogged to catch up with Amara. Samuel Rain. No one came after him, the nurses still inside.

Valentin and Ena had both risen to their feet at the first sign of the doors being opened. “How is she?” Valentin’s bear wanted to rampage through those doors, grab hold of his Starlight.

“Stable.” Ashaya’s answer made him stagger inside.

“Then why aren’t you smiling?”

Blue-gray eyes held his, sadness swirling in their depths. “I’m sorry, Valentin, but there is a close to hundred percent chance that her Silence will be flawless when she wakes.”

“She’s alive.” That was what mattered. “And she still has her telepathy?” Silver would rather die than lose that.

“Unless there are unforeseen complications,” Dr. Bashir said, “her telepathy should remain unaffected.”

A single curl escaped the bun at Ashaya’s nape to dance against her cheek. “The operation didn’t go exactly as planned.”

Ena stirred. “Explain.”

“We couldn’t cut the link between her audio telepathy and her emotions, couldn’t even see the pathway that appeared to exist in the scans,” Dr. Bashir began, the silver threads in his dark hair glinting in the overhead light. “As a result, we had to isolate the part of her that feels emotion.”

“Dr. Bashir based his surgical intervention on the neural information Amara and I collected during the creation of the chip,” Ashaya added, a fine tension to her jawline. “I just hope we weren’t wrong.”

“There’s no reason to believe that,” the surgeon said firmly. “The logic of the surgery is sound. We effectively sealed off every conduit going from the emotional center of her brain—it’s now an island unconnected to any other part.”

Ashaya’s eyes never left Valentin’s, the understanding in them stark. “Since the—albeit limited—data we have supports the assumption that audio telepathy does not exist in the absence of emotion, I feel confident in saying it’s been neutralized.”

“She’s safe?” It was the only question to which he needed an answer.

Ashaya and Dr. Bashir both nodded.

My mate, my heart’s sun, is safe.

It was Ena who spoke, and she spoke to him. “We knew it was a possibility that Silver might lose her emotions.”

Valentin told her with his eyes that it was all right; he’d do everything in his power to help Starlight through this new part of her life. Even if it was one that meant leaving him behind.

Valentin didn’t know how to stop loving someone.

Ena inclined her head very slightly in acknowledgment.

Ashaya’s voice broke the silence filled with an unspoken understanding between an alpha bear and an alpha Psy. “The possible total loss of her emotions is why we discussed a remedial option with her.”

The surgeon was more blunt in his response. “I seeded her brain with fine biofusion tendrils . . . though I think filament is the better term in this case, because these aren’t offshoots of a larger biofusion implant.”

Valentin didn’t like the sound of any of that. “Why?” It came out so deep, he saw Dr. Bashir wince.

“The filaments integrate into the brain,” Ashaya said, “become fused to it. Samuel and Dr. Bashir both saw the effect in the brain of another patient.”

“You two need to be clearer,” Ena said, her tone flat.

“In the course of his continuing work on creating a prosthetic—”

“—for Vasic Zen,” Ena interrupted. “I assume the experimental biofusion gauntlet left the Arrow with artefacts in his brain that make ordinary options difficult. Why does any of that matter in Silver’s case?”

“Because,” Ashaya said, not taking Ena to task for having that privileged information, “Samuel inadvertently made a breakthrough that means his new second-generation filaments respond to conscious commands.”

Valentin would be the first to admit he was no scientific mastermind, but he could put two and two together. “These things will let Silver, what, create new conduits?”

Dr. Bashir gave a hard nod, his dark eyes shining with a scientific fervor that told Valentin he’d enthusiastically embraced the fall of Silence. “With how untried the filaments are, the risk wouldn’t be worth it to most people, but Silver’s situation is unique—and she was adamant.”

Valentin had no doubts at all about the latter. His Starlight knew her own mind. Always had. Always would.

“For example,” Dr. Bashir continued, “if we did inadvertently damage her telepathic channels, she should be able to reintegrate them.” The older man drew in the air with his hands. “We seeded her entire brain with the filaments—she has the materials to create bridges wherever necessary.”

“Since Silver is more than smart enough not to want her audio telepathy back, that connection shouldn’t be made.” Ena stared at Ashaya rather than the surgeon. “Exactly how experimental are these filaments in my granddaughter’s brain?”

“No ordinary medic would ever think of using them,” the scientist said frankly. “The only reason we even offered Silver the option was the minor but possible risk of damage to her telepathy.”