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I stepped away. “But it is convenient.”

His expression hardened.

“For eight years, you have had an institution telling you that staying dead is noble.”

His ŭre flared.

“And maybe it was, once.”

“Talia.”

“But right now?” I looked at the false mission packet. “At this moment, staying Ghost helps the people who are trying to keep me from the Crown. You want the same outcome they do.”

“No.”

“Yes.” I raised a hand before he could interrupt. “Not for the same reason. They want me away from Anik because they’re hiding something. You want me away from Anik because you are too.”

Veyr looked at me. For several seconds, he did not breathe.

Neither did I.

Then he looked toward the terminal.

At my photograph.

At the royal-contact restriction.

At his own acknowledgment beneath it.

I picked up my bag, picked up something, shoved it inside.

Veyr crossed the room before I finished zipping it. “What are you doing?”

“I need space.”

“You cannot leave alone.”

I turned slowly and stared at him.

His expression changed almost immediately.

He heard it too.

The command.

The decision.

A verdict, handed down the way he’d once handed down everything to me.

I waited.

His jaw tightened.

Then he tried again, quieter.

That was worse.

“It is not safe outside.”