Page 177 of Seven Oars
“But he did,” Fincros said succinctly.“Hechoseto have you involved.”
His alien face with sharp, angled cheekbones held an ascetic aspect.
“No matter all our motives, we can’t change the past, Rosamma.”
“What if I can’t move on from it?” she asked quietly.
His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t form.
“That’s all in your mind. We already have.”
She rested her forehead against the glass, her head too heavy for her shoulders. So much grief, unnecessary loss, sadness. Lives ruined. And for what?
Suddenly, her thoughts veered in another direction.
“Wait, you said… Why were we headed toward the trading routes?”
He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, as it dawned on her then.
“You set that course, didn’t you?”
He inclined his head.“Through Tutti. It responds to my commands. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes…” Rosamma repeated, her brain too woolly to process all of that.
“If Father Zha-Ikkel hadn’t been so difficult, it would have responded more.”
She gazed at him.“He knew how to operate it?”
“That was the reason I kept him alive,” he admitted.
Just like that, the warmth drained out of her, replaced by something close to resentment.“You tortured him, didn’t you?”
The trisected eyebrow arched.“He didn’t have to suffer. But no, he wanted to be stubborn to the end.”
She sighed.
“We’d still be at it if I hadn’t gotten tired of prying information out of him. The bastard was exhausting. So I ended him.” He sounded miffed.
Rosamma turned on him.“Why is it so easy for you to kill?”
Her vehemence took him aback.
“Don’t, Rosamma,” he warned her.
“No, tell me. I want to know.”
“That’s what I am,” he said.
“And do you like being this way?”
A deep emotion akin to sorrow, or maybe regret, pulsed out of him before he shut it away.
“Doesn’t much matter what I like if I can’t change it. Kind of like changing the past.”
She felt him withdrawing. He wouldn’t tell her anything else or answer any questions.
Ruined, ruined man.
