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“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Bren.”

My stomach flipped. “That long?”

“Yes.”

“And you thought that was what?”

“Annoying.”

I stared at him.

He looked completely serious.

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Veyr’s expression shifted. Not a smile but close.

“You thought mate recognition was annoying.”

“I did not know it was mate recognition,” he said. His gaze drifted toward the door, then back to me, as if searching for the right shape of the words. “From the time I was an infant—before I could speak or walk—I was raised to become a warrior.”

He paused, and I watched his throat work. “My father was one. He spent nearly every season on the battlefield.” Veyr’s voice flattened slightly. “In those years, Zunator fought constant conflicts. King Crencik’s struggle to hold the throne never eased.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “There was a period when he ranked warriors above fertile women.” He glanced at me briefly. “I know that is difficult to believe now. The policy has since changed, as you are aware.”

He looked down at his hands. “I stayed as far from those auctions as I could. Refused every Earth raid assignment as though my life hung on it.” His tone shifted, quieter. “My father never recognized my mother. He said mates complicated things. They were never officially registered as a pair.”

Silence stretched between us before he continued. “When he died in combat, I entered warrior training.” He let out a slow breath. “My mother took up with another warrior after that.” Another pause, heavier this time. “He also died. Shortly after my sister’s birth.”

Veyr’s eyes met mine, clear and final. “By then, I think she had made her peace with losing the men in her life.”

“Do you still believe mates are a complication?” I asked.

“It interferes with concentration.”

That made me laugh again. For the first time in days, it did not feel forced.

The sound faded slowly. Then we were just looking at each other.

I rubbed my palms against my thighs. “Understanding you doesn’t make what you did okay.”

His expression settled. “I know.”

“And this doesn’t mean everything is fixed.”

“I know that too.”

I studied him. This time, the words did not sound defensive.

He was not asking me to absolve him.

“You kept the Crown option from me because you were afraid of what it meant for you. I understand that now, but it was still wrong. You could’ve given me the information. You did not have to lead me away from it.”

“I agree,” he said.