They climbed the stairs as fast as they could. Even Renalli appeared to be in a rush to vacate the dungeon.
At the top of the stairs, she grabbed Janna and Staria by the arms and dragged them toward her chamber.
“Where are we going?” asked Janna.
“To get some science serum,” Staria announced succinctly.
“What is that?”
“Argenti men.”
Janna balked. “My brother would not approve.”
“Not for me.” Klym dragged her forward. “For Staria.”
Janna chewed her lip contemplatively as they walked. “What would happen,” she asked musingly, bright spots of color on each of her cheeks, “if you paired an addictive Argenti male with a Vestige felana in heat?”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Staria. “Insanity.” She pointed at Klym. “She’ll be the first Argenti woman with a Vestige Prime. I want to be the first Vestige felana with an Argenti.”
Klym flushed at the blatant reference to her and Tor’s nonexistent sex life. She’d had no idea it was so universally understood. “Peace,” she muttered, only paying half attention.
Janna’s brows drew together. “Is peace with the Argenti even possible?”
Klym was still stuck imagining the wide variety of outcomes when an Argenti woman and a Vestige Prime mated. Would he become addicted to her? She tried to imagine him panting and even wilder. Or maybe she’d be addicted to him. It was hard to imagine she could be reduced to something even more base or wild. Would they have a Bond at all? Did she want one?
“Klym?”
Klym jerked, focusing on Janna’s face.
“Is peace even possible?” Janna stopped walking in the hallway. “If the war ended, so many men could be saved.”
Klym wanted to touch her, maybe squeeze her hand, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough with her, so she just said, “Like Dillan. And Tor.”
“The raids could end.” Staria apparently did feel comfortable enough and slid her hand into Janna’s. “I’ve lost two brothers in base assaults. And more cousins than I can even count.”
Klym hadn’t thought about that component of the Vestige world. Argenti died daily in the war, but they were Tribe warriors. The civilians at home had no role in the war. But on Vesta, every man old enough to wield a sword did, like Tor at age eleven. “I think we could. There are some politicians on Argentus who want it.”
Janna didn’t respond, but her eyes stayed somber.
They arrived at her and Tor’s chamber, and Klym retrieved her holo-cam. She flipped through the existing film on fast-forward. There was good footage there, especially from Frigorria. But she’d need to get some new footage, and it would all have to be edited. The thought had her fingers practically twitching with anticipation. This had always been her favorite part in school, splicing the footage together into a single holo.
Janna’s gaze traveled along the new carpet on the terrace to the pristine white bedding that had replaced the heavy old burgundy and brown. She still had that slightly haunted look on her face, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do.
Klym nudged Janna’s foot. “You won’t tell your mother what we are doing?”
Janna pointed at Staria. “You can trust me as much as her.”
Staria shrugged. “For an Argenti Tribesman, I’ll do whatever she tells me and keep my mouth shut.”
Tapping the holo-cam, Klym hesitated.
Janna’s mouth hardened and something moved in her eyes that looked like grim resolve. “I’ll tell you something no one knows, and you can keep it secret for me. You tell me something, and I’ll keep it secret for you.”
“I want to make a holo to send back to Argentus that shows the people here. I know a politician named Spiro back home. And another named Agammo. I can get the holo to them. I think they could use it to convince people that not everyone on Vesta is a cannibal or a troll.”
“Tor’s mother is,” said Staria.
“She is not a cannibal,” said Janna.
“So you admit it!” Staria jabbed a finger into the air at Janna. “She is a troll.”
Janna made a tutting sound at her. “She’s my mother, too.”
Staria shrugged. “She’s still a troll.”
Janna sucked in her cheeks. “Oh, plug your ears.”
With a roll of her eyes, Staria shoved her fingers in her ears and hummed loudly. The breeze toyed with Klym’s short hair, reminding her that she’d need to find someone who could cut it.
Janna cupped her hand against Klym’s ear and leaned. “I let Sanger into the Roq the night my father died.”
Klym’s jaw dropped.
She froze, her eyes locked on the tammin vines on the balcony.
Janna backed away, and Klym turned to meet her eyes.
She nodded slowly and leaned in again. “I opened the door at the back of the library so that he could get in.”
“How did you get in contact with him?” Klym whispered back.
“He’s my half-brother. His sister, Amaline, was my half-sister, and my closest friend. Father would have sold me in a second if it meant he could secure his position for another minute.”
She dropped her hand away from her mouth, and Klym sat back in her chair, stunned.
The vines swayed, and Staria kept on humming. When nothing happened, she dropped her fingers and stopped humming. “Are you two good?”
Klym nodded, rather light in the head and beyond confused. Janna had conspired with Sanger to kill the old regio.
“Your secret is better than mine,” she breathed.
Staria drummed her fingers. “I bet hers can’t end a war.”
“I like your secret,” Janna said. “I think Tor will be proud.”
Staria rested her skinny elbows on her knees. “Are you in love with him, then?”
Both of them stared at Klym, with their dark, curling hair, and their wide, dark eyes, their solemn, pale faces.
Klym’s chest felt suddenly hollow, and her vision darkened. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve ever really loved anyone.”
They frowned. Janna’s brows lowered. “What about your mother?”
“She’s dead.”
“And your father?”
“He’s a dick.” The statement made her smile, which seemed to confuse them both.
Then the smile faded, because it was true.
