Tennal understood. What Surit didn’t know, he couldn’t tell anyone else, even in a court-martial. Orshan’s justice system didn’t allow the use of reader or architect powers in court, but there were other ways of putting pressure on a junior officer. It brought into sharp focus just how much of a risk Surit was taking. Tennal’s thanks dried up in his throat: what would he say, Hey, thanks for putting your whole career on the line. Shame it wasn’t for a better cause?

Instead he watched as Surit reached out and shut down the light-screen. The evening-cycle lights were turning steadily dimmer and more orange in spectrum, nudging them to sleep. Tennal shifted so his leg was casually pressed against Surit’s. Surit froze.

A ping broke the atmosphere. “Sleep cycle,” Surit said. He leaned down to check his wristband, breaking the warmth where Tennal’s shin had rested against his calf. “We should have gone into it a while ago.”

Tennal smiled lazily. “Hard to tell, on ship.” His internal clock was off after the past three days, but then, he’d never slept regularly. “Your alert might be misfiring. Let me check.” He reached over and rested his hand on Surit’s bare wrist, angling the hovering screen so he could see.

He saw Surit swallow, confirming Tennal’s suspicions. Tennal took his time, leaning forward in the sudden silence. He could hear both of them breathing. He kept his hand a second too long on Surit’s wrist then let one of his fingertips brush the skin as he drew his hand away. Surit’s forearm lifted infinitesimally, following the touch.

That was enough confirmation. “Looks like it’s right,” Tennal said. “We’re supposed to be relaxing.” He stood, turning a stretch into an invitation, and saw the way Surit’s eyes tracked him. Surit stayed frozen on the bed like he couldn’t remember how to move. Tennal leaned over and rested a finger lightly on Surit’s chest, at the hollow of his neck. “I can think of a couple of ways.”

Surit’s intentions barely sent out a flicker of light around him, so little that Tennal had stopped even trying to read him. But he felt something this time, something as faint and deep as the shifting of earth beneath a continent. Surit wasn’t even breathing.

“No,” Surit said.

Tennal stiffened. “I’m sorry?”

Surit didn’t move under Tennal’s touch. When he breathed in, his rib cage moved with a noticeable effort. “No.”

Tennal had never mistaken someone this badly, not even if he couldn’t read them. He took his hand away, which did nothing for the heat in the room and his hyperawareness of Surit’s every movement, the way Surit’s eyes were focused on him. “How sure are you?”

“I’m sure we shouldn’t do this,” Surit said, a rough edge to his voice. “Are you reading me?”