Cherise swished through the Plaza of Welcome, its multitiered ramps fronted by cultivated ivy. She felt stupid for imagining that Thomas would actually welcome her as a guest in the inner sanctum of his laboratory complex. Of course he had moved on, just like she had. Of course he had a girlfriend.

A Torth girlfriend!

No one was supposed to know that he was … wow, doing activities … with a penitent.

One who looked sort of like Cherise. Wow.

But never mind that. There was more to him than that stab of a secret. Cherise had actually looked forward to experiencing Thomas telepathically. She had expected to perceive him the way Varktezo did: as a friendly Teacher. He would contain a lot of knowledge, for sure, but it would be knowledge that was kind.

Instead? Thomas might as well contain the galactic Megacosm.

There was no end to his knowledge, that she could detect. He was a cosmos. Was there even a personality buried in all that? One might as well attempt to find a single human inside a galaxy. He was an amalgamation, not even a person at all.

“It’s a sum-total-is-greater-than-the-parts situation,” Thomas said. “I’m not buried beneath knowledge. I am the knowledge.”

Cherise turned.

Thomas stood on an electric scooter on the walkway a tier above her. He still looked like the boy she used to love, despite a zillion changes.

All right, he wasn’t remotely the same. He could stand and walk. His voice was deeper. He was older and definitely wiser. Yet part of him remained a kid.

The one who had shielded her from bullies, whether at home or in school.

The one who used to coach her in algebra.

The one who used to keep her up late most nights, commenting on her thoughts, reminding her that she had value.

The one who had literally talked her out of suicide.

“I do want to see you.” Thomas zoomed around the turn and onto her level. He stepped off the scooter. “Sorry for chasing you away. I didn’t intend that. At all.”

Then why had he inwardly cursed upon seeing her? Thomas acted nice now that he’d had time to calculate a response, but Cherise could not trust that. She had experienced, firsthand, the dismay he’d felt upon seeing her. It even made sense. She had witnessed the towering cosmic storm that was his mind. How could anyone be forgiving and compassionate with countless millions of Torth personalities occluding their judgment?

Cherise began to pull back.

“What I felt, when I saw you, was aimed at myself.” Thomas gently gripped her hand; a signal that he wasn’t ready to let her go. “It was a mix of disgust and shame, directed inward. I didn’t want you to catch sight of my naked mind.”

His excuse seemed unlikely. What did he have to feel ashamed of? Clearly, he shared his innermost thoughts with other people. Varktezo had been in that room. Heck, Thomas probably enjoyed overwhelming people with his titanic mind. No doubt he did it to Ariock and Kessa and Garrett and all his friends at the top of society.

He only wanted to exclude Cherise.

Why? Was he ashamed of his fling with the (ugh, that name-title) Pink Screwdriver? So what? He was single and he was the Conqueror. He had every right to have a (!!!) secret Torth girlfriend.

Cherise let Thomas keep his grip on her hand. She searched his eyes, wondering if a meager non-telepath like herself could detect dishonesty in a super-genius. Was he lying? Did he secretly hope that she would leave?

“That’s not how I feel.” Thomas seemed breathless, as if he couldn’t find the right words. “I’m not excluding you. I actually don’t let anyone read my mind.” He seemed to realize that he’d been caught hanging out in a room full of telepathy gas with his buddies. “Uh, unless I can’t help it.”

Was he implying that the Twins and Varktezo had coerced him into being in that room? Was he their prisoner?

“No,” Thomas said, frustrated. “It’s natural, working with the Twins. And I like working with them. But I asked Varktezo not to turn on the telepathy gas. He did it anyway.” Thomas’s tone became wry. “He’s hard to stop.”

“So.” Cherise put her hands on her hips, wondering if she was reading the situation correctly. “Only mind readers get to read your mind. They’re natural. But no one else? Because it’s just not natural?”

“Um…” Thomas seemed to realize that he had just excused himself into a corner.

“So, the Pink Screwdriver gets the special privilege of reading your mind,” Cherise said pointedly. “She’s allowed to have a secret language with you. Because that’s natural and cool.”

Thomas blushed. Hard. No doubt he had let the Pink Screwdriver read his mind a lot.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You only want people who are fun to read your mind,” Cherise said, restating what he had implied. “Not Kessa. Not Ariock. Not Vy. Not any of the heroes who helped you win the war. Only mind readers get a direct line to your thoughts?”

“Um.” Thomas gulped and took a step back.

“And the rest of us, the plebeians, just have to guess?” Cherise concluded.

He didn’t deny it.

Cherise rolled her eyes. Maybe he hadn’t changed all that much from being the boy who’d let Torth peer-pressure him into torturing his enslaved friends. He thought he was superior. He thought that mind readers were inherently better than non-telepaths, entitled to more stuff, and why? Because of a power that they’d been bioengineered to be born with?

Well. If Cherise had assessed him correctly, then she had better steer clear.

She had just left Flen because she was done with his smug Alashani superiority complex. She wasn’t going to leap into a relationship like that ever again. If Thomas wanted to ensure that mind readers were always on top? Then this was the last time they would face each other. She would rather stay solo and lonely than become a stooge for a self-important leader with elitist notions.

She did not need boons from a boy whom everybody revered as a Conqueror, or a Wisdom of ancient prophecy. He must think quite a lot of himself.

She began to say goodbye.

“Wait.” Thomas sounded pleading. He actually got down on his knees.

That got Cherise’s attention. She had not expected this able-bodied, Conqueror version of Thomas to be capable of humility.

“You’re right,” Thomas said.

She braced herself for a punchline. She wasn’t sure she knew Thomas at all anymore, and she suspected this might turn into a cruel jab at her expense.

“You’re right,” he said again. “It’s hypocritical of me to invite only mind readers into my mind, and exclude my friends. I was thinking big picture. I want to prevent anything like the Torth Empire from arising again. But a ban on telepathy gas would only lead to inequality and set us up for tyranny and hatred.” He paused. “I’m wrong. I’m wrong about it. Varktezo tried to tell me. I just didn’t listen to him. So thank you for making me see the truth.”

Cherise did not hide her skepticism. Had the inequality aspect really just occurred to him? Since when did Thomas fail to think of everything important?

“I can be fallible,” Thomas said dryly. “I have super intelligence, not super wisdom. And also, uh…” The guilt was back. “I actually don’t want close friends reading my mind. That’s the truth. There’s a lot to judge.”

Considering how red his cheeks were, that might be the unvarnished truth.

“Mind readers all have guilt in common,” Thomas said. “Serette and Mondoyo invented weapons that got countless people killed. They used to own slaves. They’re guilty. Same with the Pink Screwdriver. All penitents know how that side of the equation goes. They understand it. That’s why I’m more comfortable letting them see who I am. They’re not going to judge me.”

Guilt.

Cherise saw that in his face. She could not read his mind right now, in this open courtyard, but honesty was his trademark. She believed him.

“I share guilt with all penitents.” Thomas shook his head. “I don’t want to subject you, or anyone else who isn’t a penitent, to that.”

He felt immense guilt?

About what? About being a Torth?

“Of course I feel guilty for being a Torth!” Thomas painstakingly got to his feet. Facing each other, they were the same height. “I abused you, Cherise. I treated you like disposable trash because the audience inside my head told me to. What thinking, feeling person wouldn’t feel guilty about that?”

He was being genuine. Cherise saw that. He was ashamed of something awful that he had done for survival; something he had done in order to rescue his foster sisters, and Ariock, and Kessa, and others.

Was it possible to be too ashamed to apologize?

Was it possible to beat oneself up without ever saying a word out loud?

Cherise thought of her own baby sister; the one she had failed to protect when she’d been too busy trying to survive her mother’s abusive neglect.

If there was such a thing as an afterlife, then Cherise would have a chance to tell Glitzy that she was sorry for being a failure of an older sister. Until then? Cherise would keep carrying her internal guilt. She would always know that she had failed, even though other people forgave her, even though she’d had valid excuses.

She reached across the distance between herself and Thomas.

She took his hands in hers. Those hands felt warm and familiar, despite all the changes.

Thomas looked into her eyes, and said, “I’m sorry.” His voice was a gentle whisper. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

She saw kindness there. The same kindness Thomas had always had.

He had refused to apologize for a year, but it was not because he hated her. Nor was it because he felt superior to her. It was because he had never forgiven himself.

“You saved me,” Cherise admitted. “More than once.” She squeezed his hands. It was as if the distance between them no longer mattered. Cherise wanted it gone.

She wrapped Thomas in a fierce embrace.

She felt his arms go around her.

“You saved me, too,” Thomas said. “More than once.”

“I’m sorry,” Cherise mumbled into his shoulder, for all the wrong assumptions she had made about him. “I’ve heard the crap the undergrounders say about you. You don’t deserve any of it.”

She had thought she was an expert in betrayal. She had to revise everything she thought she knew, because she now realized that Thomas had betrayed himself even more than he had betrayed her trust. He had let the Torth Majority pressure him. Just once. But once was more than enough.

That self-betrayal might have actually given him the courage and determination he needed in order to escape the Torth Empire.

“Exactly,” Thomas confessed. “When the Torth forced me to betray you, I knew I had to escape at any cost, even if it meant my life, even if it ended up getting you and Vy killed. Garrett has tried to take credit for that escape. He sent me nightmares. That did help. But the moment when the Torth forced me to torture you…? That killed me inside. I wouldn’t have survived much longer as a legit Torth. That was what truly lit a fire inside me.” He put a fist over his heart. “Here.”

Cherise clasped his fist. She had completely misjudged him.

It seemed unforgivable. She had assumed that Thomas was like her cruel mother. Or like a typical Torth, ruthless and single-minded and determined to be right, even if he had to step on friends in order to become a force to be reckoned with. Garrett was like that.

Flen was like that.

But not Thomas. He was different.

“You see me,” Thomas said with fondness. “You really do.”

They gazed at each other. Cherise just wanted to get reacquainted with him, since there were so many changes.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Thomas brushed a lock of her hair away from her cheek, past her shoulder. “You strayed from the path of Gwat for a time. I’ve strayed from the path, too. Telepathy has its dangers, but I shouldn’t ban the use of telepathy gas. Not if I actually value a chance of equality for everyone.” He shook his head, seemingly disgusted by his own folly. “You pointed out—”

“STEP AWAY FROM CHERISE, YOU REKVEH!” Flen’s voice ripped across the Plaza of Welcome, boosted by power.