The conduit chamber breathed like a throat.
Old crestwright piping ran along the walls in disciplined lines, etched with Dominion geometry that still remembered obedience. Dead-sand gutters cut the floor like veins meant to drain signal, but here—under military stone—signal didn't die. It learned.
Astra felt it in her collar first.
A tightening—subtle, eager—like the system had found a familiar hand and was leaning toward it.
Kael felt it too. His posture went rigid, eyes narrowing at nothing visible, jaw clenching as if he was biting down on a command before it could become his tongue.
In Astra's vision, Kael's linked crest display flickered—just a heartbeat, enough to make her blood go cold:
RECALL: ACCEPT OR BE CONTAINED.
And above it, a second, cleaner prompt pulsed like a heartbeat made of law:
IMPERIAL HOUNDS — DIRECT LINK REQUESTSENDER: CAPTAIN RUSK DAINNOTE: CUSTODIAN ACTIVE. REPORT STATUS.
The footsteps behind them grew louder—one set, controlled, heavy.
The lead Hound wasn't running.
He didn't need to.
He was close enough now that Astra could hear the faint scrape of his gear against stone, the slow inhale-exhale of a trained retriever tasting the air. Kael's crest variant resonated in these conduits like a bell.
Orin's fingers hovered over a scar-sigil, black paste smeared and ready. Juno stood with a disk in her palm, knuckles white. Her eyes kept flicking to Kael's throat crest like she expected it to bite.
Astra's cloth-wrapped witness seal vibrated under her skin—excited at the clean military channel. The wrap itched, but she didn't touch it. Touching was a spark. Sparks became fires.
Dorian's silk voice curled close, warm and delighted.
"Answer," he murmured. "Let your Hound remember what he is."
Kael's breath went tight. "He's pulling."
Astra nodded once. "I know."
Orin hissed, "We move now or we're caged."
Kael didn't move.
Not because he didn't want to—because something inside him had already taken a step forward. Not with boots. With structure. With the old reflex of reporting to a superior before a superior could arrive and punish the delay.
Astra's stomach turned.
She stepped close enough that her shoulder brushed Kael's chest—grounding contact, chosen, not a grab. She kept her voice low, rough with urgency.
"Kael," she murmured. "Look at me."
His eyes snapped to hers, dark and furious. Present. Fighting.
"I'm here," he rasped.
Astra breathed in once. The handler bind around them pulsed, hungry to interpret this as hierarchy. She hated that. She needed it anyway.
"Consent," Astra whispered, tight. "To me helping you answer—without giving them you."
Kael's throat worked. He hated needing help. Astra saw it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes flicked away and came back like he was forcing himself not to be proud.
Then he nodded once, sharp and chosen.
"Yes," Kael said. "But you don't speak for me."
Astra's pulse kicked—heat and respect tangled. "Agreed."
Juno's whisper shook. "He's almost here."
Orin's hand slammed onto the scar-sigil. The dead-sand gutters shivered; a thin muffling field rose like wet cloth. Not enough to kill a military channel. Enough to blur it.
Astra's interface flickered.
SIGNAL SMEAR: MODERATENOTE: MILITARY CHANNEL STILL STRONG
The footsteps stopped at the mouth of the corridor.
Silence fell—tight, expectant.
Then a voice, low and disciplined, spoke from the dark.
"Imperial Hound Kael Raithe."
Astra's skin went cold.
The lead Hound stepped into view.
He was older than Kael by a few years, maybe, built lean and hard, crest glimmering faintly at the throat. His eyes scanned the chamber, then stopped on Kael with the stillness of recognition.
Not surprise.
Confirmation.
His gaze flicked to Astra and paused—half a second too long—like her collar made the air taste wrong.
"You're out of line," the Hound said.
Kael's jaw clenched. "State your authority."
The Hound's mouth twitched—almost a smile, but it held no warmth. "You know the shape of it."
Astra's vision flashed again: the link request from Captain Rusk Dain, pulsing patiently.
The Hound lifted his chin slightly as if listening to a voice Astra couldn't hear.
Then his eyes sharpened.
"A direct link request is pending," the Hound said. "Accept it."
Kael's shoulders went tight.
Astra saw the old conditioning trying to rise in him like a tide.
Accept. Report. Obey.
Kael's breath shuddered once. He swallowed hard.
Then he did something Astra didn't expect:
He looked at her again.
Not to ask permission to obey.
To anchor himself in choice.
Astra leaned in a fraction, lips near his ear, voice low enough to be private and steady.
"Black water," she whispered.
Kael answered instantly, rough.
"Black water."
Astra didn't let the heat of being that close steal her focus. She spoke like a knife laid flat.
"Answer as yourself," Astra murmured. "Not as his weapon."
Kael's eyes burned. "I am."
Orin hissed, "We're out of time!"
Juno's disk hummed in her palm like it wanted to bite.
The lead Hound took one step forward—calm, inevitable.
"Accept," he repeated.
The collar on Astra's throat tightened, thrilled by the clarity of command in the air.
Astra hated it.
She opened her interface—handler protocols, consent gates, all the ink she'd bled into this trap—and searched for the smallest possible move.
A new option pulsed at the bottom of her vision:
OVERRIDE (OTHER) — LIMITED
She could force Kael's hand again.
She could freeze him, stop him from accepting the link.
She could.
And the thought tasted like metal and power.
Kael's earlier words stabbed her:
Apologize if you start liking it.
Astra's fingers curled into her palm.
No.
Not that.
Not yet.
She chose another weapon.
Time.
She triggered a patch—not on Kael, not on the Hound—on herself.
Ghost Command.
A small window opened in her mind like a hidden drawer:
GHOST COMMAND: STORE ONE COMMAND — READY
Astra stored the simplest lie she could live with:
COMMAND STORED: "ACCEPT LINK."
Kael's gaze sharpened. He sensed her focus shift. "Astra—"
Astra didn't look away from him. "Trust me," she whispered, tight. "Consent?"
Kael hesitated—one breath, one heartbeat—then nodded once, grim.
"Yes."
Astra locked the Ghost Command away.
Not executed.
Stored.
A promise she could release at a moment she controlled.
The lead Hound's eyes narrowed as if he felt the shift in the air.
"What did you do," he asked.
Astra smiled faintly—cold. "Breathed."
Orin growled under his breath. "We can't fight a patrol and a command link."
Kael's jaw clenched. "We won't."
The lead Hound stepped closer again, and his voice changed.
Not in tone.
In weight.
It gained authority like a blade gaining edge.
"Imperial Hound Kael Raithe," the voice said—same mouth, different presence. "Report."
Astra's stomach dropped.
Captain Rusk Dain wasn't just requesting a link.
He was using a relay.
The conduit chamber—military marked—was a throat, and Rusk had found a way to speak through it.
Kael went very still.
His eyes hardened like a door closing.
"Rusk," Kael said, flat.
The lead Hound's gaze sharpened with satisfaction.
"Good," Rusk's voice said from the Hound's mouth. "You still recognize your chain."
Astra's blood went cold.
Rusk wasn't asking.
He was reminding.
Astra's interface flickered.
MILITARY CHANNEL: ACTIVE (RELAY)NOTE: PRIVACY GATE NOT APPLICABLE
Orin's face tightened. "That's command voice."
Juno swallowed. "That's… scary."
Lyra wasn't there.
Of course she wasn't. She was always gone at the moment you wanted her.
Astra's jealousy and relief tangled—she hated it.
Rusk's borrowed gaze slid to Astra, assessing. "And you," he said, voice calm and hard. "You're the reason he's out of formation."
Astra lifted her chin. "He's in formation. Beside me."
A faint pause—interest.
Rusk's voice softened in the way a blade softened when it found a gap.
"Subject Astra Vey," he said. "Custodian protocol flagged. Handler marker logged. Explain."
Astra's throat burned under cloth.
Kael's hand hovered near her waist, then stopped—remembering consent.
Astra hated that even now, he remembered.
Kael's voice came low. "She doesn't answer to you."
Rusk's borrowed mouth smiled slightly. "Everything answers to the Dominion eventually."
Dorian's silk laugh curled through Astra's collar, delighted.
"Yes," he murmured. "Tell him."
Kael's jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
Rusk's gaze returned to Kael with quiet cruelty. "You were assigned mercy to temper your brutality," he said. "And you turned mercy into disloyalty."
Kael didn't flinch.
His voice stayed flat, controlled. "I turned mercy into choice."
Rusk's smile didn't reach the eyes. "Choice is a luxury. Report."
Kael's throat worked.
Astra felt the handler bind tighten—hungry to interpret Rusk as rightful handler, hungry to transfer the role, hungry to make Kael's crest kneel.
Her interface flashed a warning:
HANDLER ROLE: CONTESTED CLAIM PRESSURE RISINGNOTE: MILITARY AUTHORITY MAY OVERRIDE CONTEST CONDITIONS
Astra's pulse hammered.
Rusk could override her condition with command law.
Rusk could take Kael back by phrase.
Rusk could contain him by force.
And Astra—Astra would be left holding a collar that still had Dorian's silk in it and the Guild's witness seal on her throat.
Rusk's voice sharpened—less patient now.
"Accept Recall," he said. "Accept the link. Or I contain you as compromised."
Kael's jaw clenched.
"Astra," Kael murmured, not looking away from Rusk's borrowed eyes. "Whatever happens next—don't press that button again."
Heat flared in Astra's chest—sharp, painful.
"You don't get to decide my hands," Astra whispered back.
Kael's breath hitched. "I'm not. I'm asking."
Consent-as-foreplay even now—danger making it hotter, uglier, truer.
Astra swallowed hard. "Ask properly."
Kael's voice went rough, intimate despite the threat. "Please. Don't take my body away from me."
The words punched through Astra.
Not romantic.
Devastating.
Astra stepped closer, shoulder brushing him again, grounding him with contact that wasn't a command.
"I won't," Astra whispered, fierce. "Not unless you ask me to."
Kael's breath shuddered.
Rusk watched them—amused, predatory.
"Touching words," he said. "Now kneel, Hound. Take Recall."
Kael's muscles twitched—tiny involuntary movement, like the command had teeth.
Astra's interface flared:
RECALL CODE: ACTIVENOTE: MOTOR COMPLIANCE RISK HIGH
Orin swore. "That's a direct bind!"
Juno's disk hummed louder, as if it wanted to throw itself at the command.
Astra's mind raced.
She couldn't fight Rusk with strength.
She needed structure.
She had one stored command in her Ghost Command drawer.
"Accept link."
If she released it now, it would look like compliance—Kael accepting Rusk's link—but the timing would be hers, not Rusk's. That might buy a fraction of control.
Or it might hand Rusk a cleaner handle.
Astra's stomach churned.
Rusk's voice went colder. "Kael Raithe. Recall. Now."
Kael's knees trembled—just a breath of movement.
Astra felt panic spike in her throat seal. The witness seal vibrated under cloth, hungry to report this as "custodian failure" and broadcast location.
Dorian's silk voice purred. "Let him kneel. Watch him kneel."
Astra wanted to scream.
Instead, she chose a different intimacy.
She leaned in close to Kael's ear and spoke his name like a weapon and a vow at once.
"Kael."
His breath hitched. His eyes flicked to hers—dark, furious, holding.
Astra whispered, "Black water."
Kael answered, rough and immediate. "Black water."
Astra's body warmed with the words—heat, relief, connection—enough to steady her spine.
Then she looked straight at Rusk's borrowed face and said, calm as a blade:
"You don't have proof he's compromised."
Rusk's eyes narrowed. "His crest is lit with a handler mark."
Astra didn't blink. "Temporary. Under interim oversight statute."
Rusk's mouth twitched. "You speak like Guild."
Astra's throat burned. "I speak like survival."
Rusk's borrowed gaze sharpened. "Then survive this: Accept Recall. Or I cut you loose and let House Veyrn and the Guild take you."
That was the trap.
If Kael refused, Rusk could declare him compromised and strip his protections. And the moment Kael's crest lost "custodian legitimacy," Astra's contested handler condition might collapse—opening the transfer path right back to Dorian.
Astra saw it in her interface—threads tightening, ready to snap.
CONTEST STABILITY: WEAKENINGNOTE: MILITARY DECLARATION MAY VOID CONDITIONS
Orin hissed, "He's offering you a choice that kills you either way."
Astra's mouth curled faintly. "Then I choose the third."
Rusk's eyes narrowed. "There isn't one."
Astra's pulse hammered.
She opened her Ghost Command drawer.
Her stored command glowed there—clean, obedient:
ACCEPT LINK
Astra could release it. Make the system think Kael accepted the link on their terms.
Or she could hold it and risk Kael's knees buckling under Recall.
Rusk's voice cut sharper—final.
"Now," he ordered. "Kneel, Hound."
Kael's body jerked—one involuntary dip of the knees, a betrayal he hated as it happened.
Kael's jaw clenched so hard it looked like pain.
His eyes stayed on Astra—furious, begging without words.
Astra. Don't take my body. But don't let me kneel.
Heat rose in Astra's belly—intense, ugly, strategic. Power and desire braided tight. She hated herself for feeling it and used it anyway.
Astra made the decision in a single breath.
Not to control Kael.
To control the timing.
She released the Ghost Command.
EXECUTE: ACCEPT LINK
Kael's crest display flashed—brief, bright.
The relay channel snapped open like a door.
And Captain Rusk Dain's real voice poured through, no longer wearing another man's mouth—clean, immediate, in Kael's skull and Astra's borrowed view.
"Good," Rusk said. "Now hand her over."