This was the most ridiculously contrary thing he’d ever done, utterly irrational and inexplicable, but his emotions existed apart from empirical knowledge, as if certain feelings had declared war on his reason. Logically speaking, it made perfect sense for them to part ways. He’d even agreed with the points Praxys made, and he’d personally observed the deleterious effect that constant travel had on Aevi.

On returning to Tiralan, Qalu could explain his absence to her mothers however she chose. Perhaps she’d say they weren’t compatible, or blame him entirely, and their ruse would become nothing more than a footnote. A pity that she hadn’t gained more peace as a result of the pretense, but for him, things had become real so quickly that it almost felt like it wasn’t a lie in the first place, as if he had been meant to find her, her among all others. Certainly, he’d gone looking for her, although not because he’d had some inkling that she was his soulmate.

What a curious concept. Multiple beings across a hundred systems had cultural writings devoted to the possibility that a spiritual realm overlapped the physical, and among them, many explored the possibility that another being existed, who contained some missing portion of their own esoteric matter, scientifically improbable and far-fetched, certainly. And where did that leave someone like Helix, who had been inorganic initially? Did the soul grow out of the mind in such a circumstance? Or was he soulless by their standards? Generally, he had no time or interest in such questions, but now that he had a body, curiosity came with it, apparently.

He ached. Implausible as it might sound, it did feel as if she would take part of him with her when she went.

“When?” she finally asked.

“One sleep cycle. I thought you and Aevi would appreciate a break before boarding another ship.”

Her preternatural stillness gave him no inkling of her emotive response, and that hurt. Among the Tiralan, the time they’d spent together and the intimacies they’d enjoyed ought to mean something. And he knew—he knew—that he had no right to feel injured; yet here it was, this unwieldy, unpleasant sense of indignation. Organic beings truly existed in an ongoing state of disarray. Messy, that was the word.

Then a faint twitch of Qalu’s head tendrils gave it away. She wasn’t pleased, though she was restraining that distress. Some of his tension eased. Wrong as it might be, it soothed him to know that the separation wouldn’t be easy for her—that she might miss and remember him, even as she resumed her old life.

“What ship?” Aevi asked.