"No!" Tamora screams suddenly, finding her voice. She struggles uselessly against her bonds, her eyes welling up with tears as she realizes the futility of it. "Let him go, he never did anything to you, you filthy Andalite-loving traitor!"
Zorish pushes away from the wall, moving Tamora's side while keeping his eyes steady on Myitt and the Andalites. He moves slowly, and when he reaches Tamora's side he uses Derrel's fingers to brush her matted, sweaty hair from her face. His expression softens somewhat, but when he speaks to her his voice is hard.
"Do not give them the pleasure of your tears," he says eyes still on Myitt, "they hope to break us. Do not allow them the luxury."
"I don't...want..." Tamora's desperate gasping words devolve into hiccuping sobs while Zorish watches his captors, his hand resting gently on Tamora's head.