"Why must I be wrong for you to be right?" —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3
Lisbon-13 was already walking away when she spoke.
"You don't trust her. I can see that."
He almost stumbled, but he quickened his pace to cover for it.
Rekkana saw so much. It was the thing that astonished him when they first met. She seemed to see right into him, to see all his flaws and failings, all the guilt and regret, and she didn't look away.
"I don't need to trust her. I trust you."
"And that's enough?"
It was, and would be. The truth of that rested easy within him. It was the razor that cut through the chaos and ambiguity of their wild and dangerous lives. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted him by her side. It was an honor.
She lingered behind him, no doubt thinking about their mission.
"Hey, slowpoke. You coming?"
Lisbon-13 stopped to wait for her. He looked out at a landscape somehow outside space, terrible and yet still beautiful in its own way. Rekkana caught up to him.
"Strange, being through the looking glass."
Her eyes were a luminous blue. It was the first thing he'd noticed, before he understood what she could see. He wondered at the mind behind them.
He wondered what she knew about their mission that she wasn't telling him. He wondered what the ramifications of the Cryptochrons learning the truth about the Black Garden might be.
But then he remembered that none of that mattered. He didn't need to ask questions if she knew the answers.
"We should get back to Yardarm before he starts shooting bugs for fun."