Her bound hands rested in her lap, she stared unflinchingly out the viewscreen at nothing.
“He’s a dick too.”
She made a face, probably thinking he was also a dick and she was surrounded by dicks, but still didn’t say anything.
He cleared his throat. “Go lie down.”
She made no move to unbuckle herself.
After a moment, he did it for her and tugged her out of the seat.
When she stood, she stumbled, lurching into him. As he caught her, his hands closed around her waist until she was steady to stand on her own and limped down the passageway.
10
Let’s talk about peace
TOR WAITED until she was gone, down the hallway and out of earshot, before hacking into an Argenti tech portal and reentering Agammo’s numerics.
“Klym, I ju—” Assamo answered almost immediately, but he broke off when he looked at Tor’s face hulking on the holo.
Tor smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Let’s talk about peace.”
Agammo frowned.
Tor leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of the holo feed, staring into Agammo’s long-nosed face. “Have you heard of Tamminia?”
“Of course I have.”
“I’m the regio.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud and surprisingly, he didn’t hate the way it sounded as much as he’d have expected.
Agammo’s eyes widened, and his mouth popped open. “Of Tamminia?”
“If we leave, it’s one of the last dominos holding up the Alliance. Other countries would join. The Alliance will do anything to avoid that. We could force a peace.”
That asshole mouth turned upside down. “What would you want in exchange?”
Tor folded his hands behind his head. There wasn’t really anything they needed, aside from peace. But Vesta could always use… “Munitions, at least a mil, premium grade, Argenti rezals complete with appropriate spare parts, tools, cleaning equipment, holsters, and shields.”
Agammo’s jaw dropped. “You want us to send weapons to our enemy?”
“No. I want you to send weapons to your ally. Tamminiawill officially become Argentus’s boots on the ground. I want to stop the Alliance, you want to end the war between Argentus and Vesta. To do that, we need some assurances from you. Ten billion cred, the rezals and a fleet, fifty thousand strong of FRS-21s.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’ll never go for it.”
“They will,” Tor said. “We’d need hostages too. Argentis on the ground, so we’d know it’s for real. I’d need it on record from the Premier himself. No going back. We take down the Alliance, we end the war, but we’d need to have assurances that you wouldn’t bomb us to hell as soon as it was over.”
Assamo was entering the demands into his digi frantically, his lips moving as he entered.
“One last thing. If you speak to Klymeni again, you will be nice. You will apologize.”
His eyes nearly burst. “I am always nice to her. She is like a sister to me.”
“Gross. That’s fucked up, man. You were going to marry your sister?”
“That’s not what I m—”
“Talk to your father. What’re his numerics?”
Tor dialed them into his system when Assamo regurgitated them. “Have him talk to his Senate. I’ll talk to him then.”
Agammo’s mouth popped open, closed, popped open, closed.
“Good talk.” Tor terminated the call.
With his elbows resting on his knees, he turned to look down the empty passageway. His mind kept going back to those stained socks.
11
And then you blew on me
KLYM’S HEART WAS BREAKING.
It didn’t make sense. Her father was one thing—he’d never cared about her. All he’d ever cared about was his career and maybe the ghost of her mother. But Agammo... he’d acted like she meant nothing.
And Malina? How could he? How could she?
No. She couldn’t really blame Malina. She had no choice either.
But here she was, stuck with an enemy Vestige and no clear way to get home.
She winced as she set her foot down too quickly on a metal floor grate. As soon as she rounded the doorway into Torum’s bedchamber, she let her gait relax into a wretched limp.
She scrambled for her holo-cam and set it to play its holo-reel. Her mother’s shape burst to life, full-sized and bright, smiling and laughing, singing songs, bouncing her as a baby. Klym sat on the bed, her eyes burning. Usually, the holos comforted her, being surrounded by proof that her mother had loved her once.
But today, they did nothing. Just served a reminder that her mother was dead and she was alone.
Agammo had been so distant. Cold. They’d known each other their whole lives since they’d been little more than pudgy children. Now, he’d accepted that they wouldn’t be together as if it were nothing more than a mild nuisance.
Fifteen years. They’d been betrothed for fifteen years. Fifteen birthdays. Fifteen High Feast Days. Fifteen White Winters. Fifteen summers under the sun. They’d laughed together, cried together. He’d visited the Institute nearly every month.
And now... nothing?
She sank down onto a bed and was surrounded by Torum-scent.
Alone. She was all alone.
She lifted a hand to wipe at a wayward tear. Her other hand came with it because she was still tied up.
A dark shadow filled the doorway.
Torum.
“What are yo—” She scrambled to turn off the holo-reel.
He crossed the room, face unreadable, those dark, glassy eyes boring into her.
She shrank against the wall at the back of the bed, but he was too quick.
One of his hands snaked out and grabbed her by the calf, dragging her across the bed.
“What in the world are you doing?” She shoved at his hand. “Let me go!” She aimed a kick at his belly, which she sorely regretted the second it collided with his hard abdomen. Searing pain tore through her foot as a raw blister ripped open.
She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out.
His grip tightened, and his gaze flashed to her, brows snapping low. He slid a finger into the top of her sock. Was he going to torture her?
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” She tried to tug her foot back. “Please don’t hurt me.”
He sent her an exasperated glare and peeled down
