Author's Note: This chapter covers part of the Season 4 episode "Atonement", with some dialogue quoted from it. Gapfiller scenes are my own.
Part 51—Calling of the Heart
Explain yourself. Callenn's words—shocking, incomprehensible—echoed in my mind. I have reconsidered…hereby revoke my consent…face all the elders of Mir and explain yourself…
I shook my head, and was surprised to find myself huddled on the sofa, staring at Callenn's frozen face on the Babcom screen. I did not remember telling the comm unit stop, or crossing the floor, or sitting down. This was not happening. It could not be. The clan Elder's consent, once given, could not be withdrawn. Not unless there was murder done, or blood feud declared…
My heart lurched against my ribs, a sharp pain as if I'd been stabbed. Blood feud. The Earth-Minbari War. Starkiller. Of course Callenn would use that as an excuse. But the war was over, had been for years. Minbari and humans had built the Babylon stations together, traded ambassadors, mended fences as best we could. There was no blood feud between us anymore, nor any fresh grievance to rekindle it. What was Callenn doing? More important, what had he told the elders of the other Mir clan septs, to make them agree to this Gathering? For they must have agreed. He would not claim to have called a Gathering otherwise. Had he told them he'd consented to my union with John? Or had he deceived them by omitting that pivotal fact?
My throat was dry, my stomach roiling with anxiety. The Elder of Mir would be here in—what had he said?—three days. Valen's name, three days for me to guess at his plans and prepare. For I knew one thing clear as rain. John and I would not be parted, no matter how hard Callenn might try to make that happen.
ooOoo
Life aboard Babylon Five being what it was, of course there was no letup in the endless round of work, for me or for John. Just when I would have given anything for a free day, or even a free hour, to spend with my beloved, such a thing was not to be had. There was predictable fallout from ISN's "special report"—some of the smugglers who had heretofore deemed it worth their while to breach EarthGov's quarantine of the station had reconsidered, and John was at his wit's end arranging to cover shortfalls in vital supplies and spare parts. Neither he nor Susan, on those rare occasions when we passed in the corridors on our pressing way somewhere else, looked as if they were getting much sleep.
As for me, I spent far too much time soothing ruffled feathers among the Minbari on-station, many of whom felt personally insulted by ISN's vicious lies about me and were not above taking out their frustrations on the nearest humans to hand. Between us, Lennier and I managed to keep actual violence from breaking out, but for a time it was touch-and-go. I had not expected I would ever feel thankful for the breaking of the Grey Council, but the thought did cross my mind that at least I did not have to deal with the Council's reaction to ISN's propaganda piece on top of everything else. As it was, I had little attention to spare for affairs back on Minbar, or the worrisome rumblings of conflict there between the major religious and warrior caste clans. Surely nothing serious could come of it—Minbari did not kill Minbari, hadn't for a thousand years. Or so I told myself, and tried my best to believe it.
With Callenn's ship a day out from Babylon Five, my worries grew. What could he be planning at the Gathering? If he could find a way to prevent my marrying John, he would. His fellow elders would not expect deception from him, even by omission—but, carefully led by Callenn, they might well expect self-deception from me and judge my word accordingly. My best defense against that was the truth, presented in a way no one could ignore.
The truth. My truth, my love for John, my absolute conviction that he and I were meant to be together. There was a way to bring that to light.
After my last meeting of the day, I placed a transmission to Callenn's ship. "We will arrive within twenty hours, Delenn," he said brusquely when he answered, disapproval clear in his face. "What is it that cannot wait?"
A spurt of anger gave me strength as I replied, with brittle politeness. "I have a request. At the clan Gathering, I wish to undergo the Dreaming."
He looked startled for a bare second, then regained his composure. "That is your right, of course. If you are certain."
"I am." I watched him with narrowed eyes. He was practiced at concealing his thoughts, but for a moment I fancied I read unease in him. Then it was gone, replaced with his usual self-satisfaction, and my heart misgave me. Had he anticipated this? Even planned some way of turning the Dreaming toward his own ends? No, surely not. Regardless of all else, Callenn was Elder of the entire Mir clan. He would not trifle with this sacred ritual. Not even to avoid accepting "Starkiller" as kin.
"Very well." His voice was smooth as a gokk's fur. "Be ready to depart when we reach you. It will not be long."
He ended the transmission before I could say another word. I stared at the blank Babcom screen, not at all reassured by what Callenn had just agreed to. His expression, his manner—he was so confident, so sure of himself. So sure he would succeed, and I would fail.
I shook my head, as if he could see my gesture of denial. There was one other thing I could do before I left to face my clan. One thing to declare to the Universe, at least, the true calling of my heart.
Now, where was that "little black dress"?
ooOoo
Too soon, the next morning arrived. I had slept badly, and probably looked it as I headed toward the bay where Callenn's flyer would dock. I had left Lennier to oversee Mr. Allen's fitting for his uniform as Babylon Five's new head of security, and then to compile notes for a side agreement to a treaty between the Hyach and the Pak'mara, which should have been taking up all my attention. Instead, I was fighting down my hundredth bout of anxiety since first hearing from my uncle, and hoping—foolishly—that Callenn would not notice.
About my personal situation, I had told Lennier little. That I was going home to Minbar again, he knew—all my work would fall upon him during my absence, so I had to tell him that much. I chose not to speak of why, or what was at stake. Partly, it was fear—I did not know what judgment my clan would make, or how permanent would be my departure from Babylon Five. But there were other reasons as well. Like me, Lennier had long since learned the worth of humans, and he respected John as a leader and a friend. He had held me as I wept for John's passing, witnessed John's return from the dead for me, taken part along with us in the final victory over the Shadows and the Vorlons. That anyone would stand in the way of our bonding, so clearly meant, for no more reason than bigotry against the human "barbarians," would shock and anger him, and dishonor Callenn in his eyes. The habits of a lifetime were strong; I could not bring myself to shame my kin, no matter how much Callenn deserved it.
My uncle was coming toward me now, followed by a pair of aides whose faces I recalled, though not their names. Their expressions were studiously neutral, though the younger one at Callenn's left couldn't entirely disguise a glimmer of curiosity at his surroundings…or at me, in the brief moment of eye contact he allowed himself before lowering his gaze to shoulder level. Interesting, that he alone of them offered me such respect. As if I were still satai—or perhaps tales of my part in the Second Shadow War outweighed the disapproval of the Elder he served.
I held to that scrap of respect like the armor of hope as Callenn reached me, his face a study in smug satisfaction. Our ensuing conversation was mercifully brief, and should have left me at least somewhat content—insufferable though he was about it, Callenn agreed to give me one more day with John, and did not ask why. Yet he could not resist accompanying it with a warning that if the Dreaming did not go well, I would not be allowed to return here. Even expecting them, the words hit me like a denn'bok blow. I was risking so much on the Dreaming, on the truth I believed it would reveal. If I could not get that truth across, I would lose John and our twenty years; I would lose everyone I cared for in this place I had learned to call home. I remembered Neroon, newly elevated to the Grey Council in my stead, telling me I had no home on Minbar anymore—only among the humans he despised. A bittersweet irony that in a way he was right. Home was John, and love, and without them I had no belonging place.
I had previously secured guest quarters for my uncle and his aides, declaring in my heart the minor victory of actually getting the additional day and night I wanted. They followed me there in silence, where I left them with a promise that Lennier would assist them in any way they might require. Callenn dismissed me with patronizing thanks, and I was glad enough to depart. I had another, larger victory to declare in my heart before this day was over—and it would require some preparation. Perhaps Susan could help me with my hair…
Susan, alas, was otherwise engaged—a Drazi religious rite, Lieutenant Corwin informed me when I went to C&C in search of her. Knowing what I did of Drazi sacred rituals, I could only hope she would emerge no more than somewhat drunk and with only minor bodily injuries. The next several hours passed in endless meetings, discussions, and mediation sessions with this dignitary and that, until finally I had time to return to my quarters and breathe. The black dress with its wrap awaited in my closet; I had plenty of time to experiment with my hair. Not that I needed extra allure for John, at this point…but a declaration of faith in the Universe was not a thing to take lightly, and this night was mine. No—ours.
By the time John turned up, as late afternoon gave way to early evening, I had perfected my appearance and decided on my approach. No fear of what might happen in the next several days would be allowed to mar this night. We would enjoy it as if it were only the first of the rest of our nights and days together. I would say as little as I could of…other possibilities. I had grown used to being open with John about everything, and it troubled me not to confide in him—but I could not shame my kin when there might be no need, and it is so easy not to mention what one doesn't wish to speak of in the first place.
I was in my bedroom when John arrived. The sound of his steps crossing the sitting-room made my heart beat faster, for more than the usual reason. "I was just on my way to… Delenn?"
Showtime, as Susan might have put it. I made one final adjustment to the slender wrap across my bare shoulders, drew in a steadying breath, and opened my bedroom door.
For the first minute or two, everything went as I had planned. John was suitably dazzled, and it was surprisingly easy to suggest dinner out as lightly as if all I sought was the pleasure of his company. I even managed to bring up the third night of watching without betraying how serious the situation truly was. He demurred at first, saying he had late meetings, but I told him I could wait. And then—
"Something is up, isn't it?" He was smiling as he moved toward me and gently grasped my arms. Willing to play along with the game he thought this was—but it was no game, and now he had asked me a direct question, and I did not know how to answer him. No was a lie I would not tell; the truth was a thing I could not.
His touch on my bare skin reminded me of all I might lose. For a searing moment, I wanted to cry. I stepped away from him, drew in a breath and mastered myself. "I'm going back to Minbar tomorrow. I may be there…for some time."
There was a pause, four hard beats of my pounding heart. I had turned my back to him, but nothing could shield me from the worry in his voice. "Anything serious? If I can help, I—"
"No, no. Just some old business I must attend to, that"—how could I say it, how even come close?—"might take me away from you for some time." My voice had dropped to a near-whisper, and without conscious thought my clasped hands rose to my chest. "It matters to me a great deal that we finish this, John." If only I dared tell you how much, v'mai…
Nine heartbeats this time before he responded. An omen? Good or bad? I felt his warmth at my back even before he reached up and caressed my shoulders. "All right," he said, too quietly. "I'll be here at seven, for dinner."
I leaned into him and cradled his hand against my cheek. This much at least I would have of him, no matter what happened down the road. He went still for a moment, and I braced myself for what he would say next: What's wrong, Delenn, please tell me, don't shut me out.
Instead, gently, he released me. "I'll see you then," he said, and moved slowly toward the door. I watched him go, still half-convinced he would turn and demand to know what was really going on. He did turn back at the threshold, drawing breath as if to speak. I looked away, afraid to meet his eyes. Don't, John. Don't ask me what I cannot answer. Give us this night, and let it be.
He said not a word as he stepped into the hallway and the door swung shut behind him.
For a full minute after he left, I didn't move. The silence lay on me like a weight. My shoulders sagged, and my silken wrap slid from my arms. I could not muster the energy to pick it up. The enticing dress, my carefully practiced banter, even the dinner date and third night of watching I had managed to arrange—all of them suddenly seemed pathetic gestures, a child's attempts to bend the Universe to her will simply by believing enough. Like my much younger self, who had wished so hard for her mother to stay with her, yet all the wishing in the world couldn't alter the power of tradition thousands of cycles old…
I took three rapid steps forward, more from the need to move than because I had anywhere in mind to go. Then halted, breathing hard and quick, hands clenched in the slinky fabric of my dress. "I am trusting you," I said, as if the Universe was listening. Perhaps it was. Why not believe that, if it helped me through this moment, and the next, and the next, right up until I boarded Elder Callenn's flyer and departed for the cruiser Valeria? "I am trusting that you have not deceived me…that I have not deceived myself. That if we were meant to be parted now, without even twenty years, John would truly have died at Z'had'dum. But you restored him to me. You brought him back, and together we won the last battle against the Shadows and the Vorlons, and we have risked so much, fought so much, surely we must have earned some respite, some happiness, some…?" Words failed me then, abruptly as a drop off a cliff. What was I asking for? To be awarded a future with John like a prize for good behavior, or recompense for suffering? Had I not yet learned that love, like life, is a grace, a gift? I could not claim to have earned it, any more than I had earned the right to breathe.
"Please." It was the only word I had left. I clasped my hands, raised them to my lips. "Please." Fingers pressed to my mouth, I listened to the silence.
From somewhere within it came a feeling of peace…a slow upwelling, like the source of a spring. All will be well, came the thought, from outside of myself. Trust love. All will be well.
I blinked away tears, then slowly knelt and retrieved my fallen wrap. Less than two hours remained until John returned for me, and I had more preparations to make.
ooOoo
That feeling of peace carried me through dinner. We talked, and laughed, and held hands across our secluded table at the Fresh Aire, and almost I could pretend no cloud of uncertainty hung over our happiness. Not until afterward, when we reached John's quarters, did that aspect of reality intrude.
He ushered me inside, his hand warm at the small of my back. I felt vividly alive to his slightest touch; we had scarcely crossed the threshold when I gave in to impulse, pulled him toward me and kissed him as thoroughly as I knew how. He staggered a little when I released him, desire sparking in his eyes as he cupped my face in his hands. "I should feed you chocolate mousse for dessert more often," he murmured. One hand moved to capture mine, and he brought my fingers to his lips.
"Perhaps you should." It was hard to speak, to think, as he turned my hand palm upward and brushed a kiss across it. I waited for him to reclaim my mouth next, but he didn't. He kept hold of my hand, eying the ring that adorned my third finger, rubbing his thumb across the spot on my palm where his kiss had left its imprint.
"Listen," he said. "I know you don't want to talk about whatever's going on, and I won't ask…but if there's any way I can help, any way at all…"
"You are helping. You are here with me, sharing our third night. That is all I ask, for now."
"Well." His slow smile made my heart turn over. "I did have a couple of ideas, before the watching part of things gets started…" He glanced toward the Babcom unit and raised his voice. "Slow jazz mix one. Play."
Soft, rich, sultry notes poured into the air—instruments of Earth, piano, saxophone, bass. The tune was one he had shared with me before, though I couldn't place the name. My beloved looked down at me, held me a little closer. "May I have this dance?"
I lost count of the songs we danced to, swaying in each other's arms. There came a time when the music ran out and we held each other in the silence, melded together as if the sheer force of yearning in our embrace could make us one. I did not want to let him go. I wanted to stay like this, feeling him, tasting him…but time was passing, too much and too swiftly, and we had to finish what we had begun.
He was nuzzling my neck in a most distracting manner. I managed to press a hand against his collarbone. "John…the night is passing by…"
"Mmmhmm," he murmured, and kept going. Each kiss lit a fire on my skin, and it was all I could do to speak again.
"Third…night," I whispered, on a sigh that ended in a moan.
"Mmm…what?" He lifted his head, his face flushed, eyes dazed. "Oh. Yeah. That."
Laughter welled up, along with heat, from deep inside me. "Yes. That." I brushed my fingers across his lips and felt him shudder against me. "I think…I should go and change clothes. I don't entirely trust myself to be here while you disrobe…and certainly not while I am wearing this dress."
He raised his eyebrows—how I envied humans that expressive feature!—and gave me a wicked grin. "I don't trust me while you're wearing that dress." Reluctantly, he loosened his grip. "Go. Hurry back. I don't want to miss a minute of you."
My heart was too full to reply. I kissed him one last time, hard and quick, and half-ran from the room.
Donning my customary garments in my own quarters sobered me. The light under-robe and heavier silk tabard served as a tangible reminder of who—of what—I was, and what I would face a few days hence. The judgment of my clan, the truth of the Dreaming…a decision that might go either way. "Trust love," I murmured, to banish the sudden chill that passed through me. This was no time to lose hope, with the watching ritual about to begin.
Unlike our second night, this time I stayed with him while he drowsed his way to sleep, one hand clasped in both of mine as his breathing evened out. His true face was beautiful, honor and courage and compassion and kindness shining through it like the first rays of light after a storm. If only I could keep these hours from passing—but eventually the final minutes ticked away. I rose from his bedside, stroked his forehead…the last time? No, not the last…and left him. Not for long, I promised myself. Not for long.
I reached the docking bay and was halfway across the passenger area when someone spoke. "I wondered if you were going to leave without telling me," Lennier said, as he rose from the seat where he'd parked himself.
How had he known the precise time…? Of course. He had made himself available to Callenn and his aides, by my own request, and had clearly taken the opportunity to learn whatever he could of what I would not tell him. Often, I had been grateful for just this trait—his persistent refusal to take silence for an answer. At the moment, however, gratitude was the last thing on my mind. I couldn't muster a word as he came closer and stopped within arm's length of me. "My place is at your side, Delenn."
He said it as one might say snow is cold or fire is hot. He knew when I had planned to leave the station—how much else did he know? And if I permitted him to come with me, as he clearly wished, how much would he learn?
I couldn't risk it. Couldn't lose his loyalty, his friendship, when I stood on the brink of a possible loss even greater. I stumbled through a reply, two barely audible words: "Not tonight."
His response was as swift as mine had been halting. "Always."
"If…" I was going to lose this argument, I knew it already, but anxiety compelled me to keep going. "If you go, you will learn things about me that might change your opinion of me."
He tilted his head. "Delenn, I have pledged myself to your side come fire, or storm, or darkness, or death. Can understanding be a greater danger?"
"In this case…yes." I could not say any more, but with my eyes I begged him—don't ask why. Don't ask anything at all.
A small silence fell. Lennier walked slowly past me, toward the corridor that led from the passenger area to the docking bay proper, where Callenn's flyer was. Every footstep, every rustle of his silk robes, seemed loud in the hushed air.
He turned toward me and held out a hand. "They're waiting for us." And stood there, not moving, a slight smile on his face.
Worried as I was, nothing could quench the surge of affection I felt for him. A staunch friend and true, he was a gift of the Universe—as much of one as John was, in his own way. I reached out and clasped his fingers. Neither of us spoke—no words were required—as we turned and walked together toward the docking bay.
ooOoo
The journey home aboard the Mir ship Valeria was uneventful, my uncle mercifully content to spend most of it in his quarters and out of my way. I passed many hours in meditation, sleep largely eluding me. When I did sleep, I dreamed of John, so vividly that the waking world paled by comparison. I clung to these dreams as messages from the Universe—another way of telling me, trust love. All will be well.
I ate little, except at Lennier's urging and in his company. "You will not serve yourself, or Sheridan, or the truth you seek, by neglecting yourself, Delenn," he told me, solemn and reproachful as a father scolding a child. I could have laughed at the role reversal, had I not felt so weighed down as we drew nearer to Minbar. Strange…I was going home, and yet home was no longer my birthworld. Home was with John now.
Lennier's presence was balm to my wounded spirit, in more ways than one. Sometimes he sat with me, and we meditated together; other times, he sensed my need to be alone and busied himself elsewhere on the Valeria. Within mere hours of boarding the ship, I confessed that I planned to enter the Dreaming and asked him to stand as my second. The depth of his bow, and the roughness in his voice as he accepted, told me how deeply honored he was. I still feared what he might see, and what he might think of me as a result, and yet there was no one I wanted more to stand with me in this ordeal. I wondered, later, if he felt tempted to deny what the Dreaming showed and take a chance for himself. Perhaps he did not yet know the depths of his own heart, or perhaps he was merely braver and more honest than even I gave him credit for. Either way, in the end I owed what came of the Dreaming to him as much as to any act of my own. And I have never forgotten it.
Eighteen hours out from Minbar, deep in "ship's night" and unable—again—to sleep, I went to the galley in quest of a cup of tea. I was surprised to see Callenn's aide there…the younger one, who had eyed me with curiosity before respectfully lowering his gaze. He glanced up at my entrance, gave me that same brief look of cautious interest, then focused his gaze on the cup in front of him. I caught the scent of r'fani. I was not the only one wakeful tonight, it seemed.
I busied myself with dried leaves and hot water, added a touch of honey when the brew was ready, and turned to leave the galley. As I passed the table where Callenn's aide sat, he leaned forward. "Entil'zha Delenn?"
Entil'zha. At least part of my reputation had preceded me. I halted. He was gazing at the tabletop, as if abashed at his own presumption. Then he looked up. "I would be most honored if you would join me."
I thanked him and did so. We sat in silence awhile, sipping tea, while I tried to recall what his name was. We had met before his arrival with Callenn, I was sure of it. Some family occasion or other, ages ago. That felt right. Then he cleared his throat and tilted his head, a gesture very like my father's, and I knew. "Rodenn, isn't it?" I said. "Your mother and my father were in the second degree of kinship." Second cousins, John would have called them. The thought of him brought a pang of longing, which I quenched before it could show in my face.
Rodenn—for it was he—gave a slight nod and a smile. "You remember me, then. I was not sure you would. It has been a long time since you were home among the Miri."
"That is true." I sipped more tea and waited for what he would say next. Something was coming—I could read it in his posture as well as his expression.
"May I ask…a personal question?" he said at length.
"Surely."
"Is it…" Briefly, he faltered. "Is it true your reshanmai is a human?"
He had used the word, and the inflection, that meant intended. Not the more neutral lover, or the outright insulting paramour, as Callenn had referred to John when I first boarded. For that alone, I would have answered him courteously…but his question opened a door I had not expected. "Yes. He is human. John Sheridan." A brief pause for maximum effect. "The one our people called Starkiller, until he led the Army of Light to victory in the Second Shadow War."
Rodenn's eyes widened. "Sheridan led…? But…I had heard it was you who…"
"I played my part, yes." Another sip of tea, while he absorbed that. "But the victory belongs as much, more, to Sheridan as to me. In truth, it belongs to all who were there at Corianna Six, and all who worked and fought and fell in the service of the Light before that. Minbari, humans, Narn, Gaim, Hyach, Pak'mara, even Centauri… Shall I tell you what happened?"
"Please," he said, eager as a child for a story on a dark winter's night.
And so I told him of Corianna Six and its aftermath. The Shadows, the Vorlons, Lorien…and John, the brave words he had spoken at just the right time that turned the balance in our favor. Rodenn was not an elder of Mir, of course. He was a mere aide to the Elder of elders, and so could not be a voice in my favor at the clan Gathering. But he would repeat what I told him to his nearest family and friends, and they would repeat it, and so on, and so on, until countless people had heard the full story of the Second Shadow War. They would know what John Sheridan had done, what humans had done—their courage, their honor, their sacrifices. And in the knowing, my people's hearts would open just a little bit wider.
Perhaps that would help me now. I could only hope. But in the end, what mattered most was that the whole truth be acknowledged.
ooOoo
We made planetfall in Callenn's flyer as the sun was setting, its golden rim touching the ice-capped peak of Grandmother Mountain. "You will purify yourself," Callenn said curtly to me as we disembarked. "You have tomorrow for that. Present yourself in the Great Hall the morning after." He swept away, Rodenn and the other aide following in his wake. Rodenn threw me an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hurried to catch up.
"Where—" Lennier began, just as Mayan strode over to us.
"Good, I have missed him," she said, shooting a fierce glare toward Callenn's departing figure. "If I had crossed paths with the Elder, I would have said something unforgivable, and that would not help you and your Sheridan at all." She caught my hands and pressed her forehead to mine. Her branding scar felt rough against my skin. "Come with me, both of you. I have supper waiting, and we can talk."
Welcoming scents enveloped me as we entered the little round house at the foot of Grandmother Mountain a short while later. "Rock mussels in spice broth," Mayan said, squeezing my arm affectionately. "I thought you might like an old favorite. And there are chirnoi for afterward, with tea."
Her thoughtfulness, as always, lightened my heart. We made ourselves useful in the kitchen, served up shellfish stew from the steaming pot, then sat around the low table and ate. To my surprise, I felt hungry. It was impossible to sustain gloom in Mayan's presence, and I was grateful. Lennier was right—I would need my strength, and my wits about me, for the trial to come.
Mayan refrained from speaking of my situation until we had finished our supper and were nibbling at the chirnoi. Finally, however, the words she must have been aching to say for hours—days—burst forth. "I cannot believe he is doing this," she said, both hands clenched around her teacup. "To give his consent and then withdraw it…I have been all through our clan history, all through the sagas and poems and even the law scrolls, and I cannot find a single instance of this ever happening before."
I shredded the last remnant of my chirnoi. "No Minbari has ever sought to marry a human before."
"Still—"
"Forgive me…" Lennier spoke slowly, as if gathering his thoughts. "But…did you say your clan Elder gave his consent to Delenn and Sheridan's union?"
"Yes. I was there." Mayan set her cup down with unnecessary force. "He accepted Sheridan's gift, too. If he meant to object, he should have done it then. He had ample opportunity."
"But…" Lennier was still working this out, looking steadily more appalled. "That is not how things are done. How can Elder Callenn go back on his word?" He glanced from Mayan to me. "I mean no disrespect, but…surely your other clan elders…do they approve of this? It is…unprecedented."
Mayan bit her lip. "There may be some…doubt about how much he has told them."
"On the assumption that they do not need to know. Because the question of accepting a human as kin remains the same, whether Callenn consented or not." I spoke with more bitterness than I'd intended, but the restless hours aboard the Valeria had taken their toll.
Lennier shook his head. "But if he believes he has valid reason for preventing this union, admitting he gave consent and then reconsidered would only bolster his case. Why resort to…?"
"Deception by silence," Mayan finished for him, then frowned. "That is true. You think something else is going on here? More than Sheridan's being human?"
"Or Starkiller." Except to Rodenn the night before, I had not referred to John by that name in so long, it felt alien on my tongue.
"I don't know. But something feels wrong here." Frowning, Lennier freshened his tea, then fiddled with the cup. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
