Page 46 of The Warlord's Secret Heir

Her eyes flash. “Don’t you dare make this about your martyr complex.”

“Then tell me what itis.”

She looks at me like I’m already gone. Like she’s trying to build courage out of broken glass. “I need your help,” she says finally. Quiet. Flat. “I can’t tell you why.”

I stare at her. And everything in me goes still.

“That’s not how this works,” I say.

“It’s the only way itcanwork,” she fires back.

“You expect me to trust that? After everything?”

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” she says. “I’m asking you not to let me die.”

I take a step forward. She takes one back. The space between us crackles.

“Who sent you?” I demand.

“No one.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’mnot!” She slams her fist into the table. “Stars, Kyldak, do you really think anyone would send me here? I barely got out of orbit alive!”

“Then why?—”

“Because I had no choice!”

Her voice cracks on the last word. She turns away before I can read her face. “You don’t get to ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

My throat burns. My chest feels too small. “You think I’m scared of answers?”

She doesn’t look at me. “I think you’re scared of what you still feel.”

I grab my warcoat off the rack and throw it at her. It lands on her lap — heavy, still warm from my skin.

“Put it on,” I mutter.

She glares at me. “No.”

“It’s cold.”

“I said no.”

I point at the flap of the tent. “You step outside without protection and you’ll freeze to death.”

“Then I guess that’s one less thing for you to worry about.”

“Jaela—”

She throws it at my head.

I catch it mid-air, jaw tight, nostrils flaring. The room goes silent again — just our breathing and the faint whine of the camp generators.

I walk toward her, slow. Every step deliberate. I stop close enough that the air between us hums. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move.

“You’re going to tell me what you want from me,” I say quietly. “Or I’ll find out myself.”