“They would not believe you, either. Your very name makes you suspect. Possibly there is no one they would believe. I must find some other way to punish her—perhaps by managing to live. After that, I will see.”

This meek retreat ran counter to everything she knew of Chay, everything she knew of the gulden, so fierce and quick to defend their honor. Yet she was wise enough to see that it took more strength to resist the reprisal, more courage to stay silent and endure. He was even stronger than she had always believed—and he might be dying.

“You are a great man, Chay Zanlan,” she said in a low voice. “The world was enriched the day you were born, and it will be a much poorer place the day you die.”

“That is good to know,” he said. “But do not eulogize me yet. I have a great deal of energy in me still, and a great deal left to do.”

He rose to his feet, and she followed suit. “When will they know if the drugs will help you?” she asked.

“In three days, I believe they said.”

“Will I be allowed to see you again?”

“If my schedule permits. It is a rare pleasure for me to talk with you, daughter of my dearest friend.”

“And yet, yesterday you consigned me to my own race,” she said, somewhat daring.

He smiled briefly. “And there I will return you. What I said then is still true. You can flirt with another culture, but you will always return to your own.”

“It has been more than flirting,” she said with some indignation.

He took her hand in his huge one; it was like being enveloped in friendly flame. “It has been true love,” he said. “But that changes nothing. You belong with your own.”

“That is not the way to change the world,” she whispered.

“You’re right,” he said, and kissed her fingertips, then released her. “But this is not the day the world will be changed.”

*   *   *

When the guard showed her back inside her quarters, Nolan looked up quickly. He was seated on the sofa facing the door, poring over notebooks which appeared to be filled with mathematical equations.

“Well?” he asked hopefully. “What did he say?”

But she could not speak. There was too much to say. She headed straight for her room, closed the door, and sobbed away the rest of the afternoon. And then, because she could think of no other escape, she closed her eyes and slept.

It was dark outside when she woke, feeling sodden and generally achy. What had shaken her from sleep was a knock on her door, and a minute later it was repeated.

“Kit? Kitrini? Are you awake? Kit?”

She sat up in bed and reached for the light. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just want to see if you’re all right. Can I come in?”