Thalia Vasiliou remained in Noah's arms. Her striking, freckled face was flushed with the vitality of a fully stabilized Provenance Lifeform, but a sudden, heavy vulnerability clouded her expression. The microscopic, blue-gold genetic helix orbiting her irises spun slowly as she looked up at him.
"I am sorry," Thalia whispered, her voice cracking slightly in the quiet space. "I asked you to anchor me, and in doing so, I forced you to make a direct enemy of one of Those Who Remain. They will not forgive what you just took."
Noah looked down at her. He evaluated the sheer weight of her apology and found it entirely unnecessary. His expression remained an ocean of calm, tyrannical certainty.
"You did not force me to do anything," Noah said smoothly. "And nobody would have been allowed to take my Provenance. What was inside you was always going to belong to us. Let them be angry. I seem to be building a habit of offending them anyway."
