Page 56 of Thexan

The ache in my chest deepened.

“Thexan,” I said quietly, “they may question me. But I’m not going to make you into a secret to make this easier.”

His gaze held mine.

“No,” he said. “You would not.”

“That would be ineffective?”

A faint shift crossed his face, almost too subtle to name. “It would be unworthy of you.”

I had no answer for that.

Not right away.

So, I started walking again, because the settlement was waiting, because questions were coming, and because the man beside me had just made it impossible to pretend he didn’t understand what this would cost.

“That’s one way to put it,” I said softly.

I stopped just short of the infirmary, turning to face him fully for the first time since we had left the ridge.

Up close, the signs of the fight were clearer. The controlled stillness was still there, but so was the cost—the faint tightening along his side, the subtle shift in his breathing that told me the wound had taken more strain than he was acknowledging.

“Inside,” I said.

He didn’t argue.

That alone would have surprised me if I hadn’t already started adjusting to the way he operated now—not softer, not less controlled, but… willing to account for me in a way he hadn’t before.

We stepped into the infirmary together.

The familiar space closed around us, the quiet settling into place as the door shut behind us. For a moment, I just stood there, taking it in, letting my mind catch up to everything that had happened between the last time I’d been in this room and now.

It didn’t feel like the same place.

Or maybe I didn’t feel like the same person standing in it.

“Sit,” I said.

Thexan moved to the cot without hesitation and lowered himself into position with controlled precision. I crossed to the storage cabinet, pulling supplies without needing to look at what I was grabbing. My hands knew the process even if the rest of me was still catching up.

“Remove the outer layer,” I said, setting the supplies down beside him.

He complied immediately, exposing the bandage beneath.

I leaned in, careful but firm, and began to unwind the reinforced wrap.

“Tell me if the pain spikes,” I said.

“It is present,” he replied.

“That’s not what I asked.”

A slight pause.

“It has not increased.”

“Better.”