It did not take long for Kaldur to figure out who the spy was. He had known for some time. His conscience nagged at him constantly, telling him he needed to do something about it, report her to the League. Their team was supposed to be covert, and every minute they operated with a spy in their midst was another minute they risked total exposure, another secret, more information placed in enemy hands.
But he could not give her away; he did not think he could bear to see her shamed before her teammates. Her friends, because that was what they were to her now. He could tell.
They were kindred spirits, he thought, more alike than she knew or than he ever would have guessed. He understood her—and what was more, he knew she was in danger every second of her life when she lived with such divided loyalty. If she was exposed, she would not be so quickly forgiven. If he exposed her, it would be like painting a big red target on her back. She would not last a day.
I cannot do that to her.
He had tried to ignore his feelings for her, tried to pass them off for the same kind of friendship he felt for the others. But it was more than that, and eventually he had not been able to deny it any longer. He was in love with her.
He had not thought so at first; after all, it was still too soon after Tula for him to be sure about what he was feeling. But now he knew it, and wondered if—hoped that—she had any feelings for him.
That is not the priority at hand, he reminded himself. She is in danger, and I can help her. I can protect her. Later, perhaps… later, when all of this is set right, I will tell her. One thing was sure: as long as she had his love, she would have his loyalty. He would not let her down, even if she did not know his feelings for her. He would not let anything or anyone hurt her—even if it meant standing between her and her own father.
Love could be divided, but loyalty could not. She would have to choose sooner or later—so, he decided, he would be there when the time came, to help her make the right choice.