“What is it you’d like me to do?” I said.
“We need your help getting into Noavek manor.” Tos crossed his thick arms. His clothes were made of off-planet fabrics, too lightweight for the Shotet cold. “In Voa. After the sojourn.”
“Are you an exile?” I said, frowning at him. “That’s off-worlder garb you’re wearing.”
Were the renegades in contact with the exiles, who had sought safety from the Noavek regime on another planet? It made sense, but I hadn’t considered the ramifications before. The exiles were undoubtedly a more powerful force than the rebellious Shotet who had turned against my brother—and more dangerous to me, personally.
“For our intents and purposes, there is no difference between exile and renegade. We both want the same thing: to unseat your brother and restore Shotet society to what it was before your family soiled it with inequity,” Tos replied.
“‘Soiled it with inequity,’” I repeated. “An elegant turn of phrase.”
“I wasn’t the one who devised it,” Tos said humorlessly.
“To put it less elegantly,” Teka said, “you’re starving us and hoarding medicine. Not to mention carving out our eyeballs or whatever else gets Ryzek’s blood pumping these days.”
I was about to protest that I had never starved anyone or kept them from adequate medical care, but suddenly it didn’t seem worth arguing. I didn’t truly believe it, anyway.
“Right. So . . . Noavek manor. What do you intend to do there?” It was the only building that I, specifically, could help someone access. I knew all the codes Ryzek liked to use, and beyond that, the most secure doors were locked with a gene code—part of the system Ryzek had installed after our parents died. I was the only one left who shared Ryzek’s genes. My blood could get them wherever they wanted to go.
“I don’t think you need to know that information.”
I furrowed my brow. There were only a few things a group of renegades—or exiles—could want inside Noavek manor. I decided to make an assumption.
“Let’s be clear,” I said. “You’re asking me to participate in the assassination of my brother.”
“Does that bother you?” Tos said.
“No,” I replied. “Not anymore.”
Despite all that Ryzek had done to me, I was surprised by how easily the answer came to me. He was my brother, my very blood. He was also the only guarantee of safety I currently had—any renegades who overthrew him would not care to spare the life of his sister, the murderer. But somewhere between ordering me to participate in Zosita’s interrogation and threatening Akos, Ryzek had finally lost any loyalty I had left.
“Good,” Tos said. “Then we’ll be in touch.”
Rearranging my skirt around my crossed legs, I searched the crowded hall that evening for Suzao Kuzar’s regiment. They were all there, lined up along the balcony, exchanging giddy looks. Good, I thought. They were overconfident, which meant Suzao was also overconfident, and more easily defeated.
The room was humming with chatter, not quite as full as it had been when I fought Lety a few months before, but a much larger crowd than most Reclaimed challengers would ever hope to attract. That was also good. Winning an arena challenge could always give someone higher social status technically, but for it to really matter, everyone in Shotet society had to mutually agree on it. The more people who watched Akos defeat Suzao, the better his perceived status would be, which made it easier for him to get Eijeh out. Power in one place tended to transfer to power elsewhere—power over the right people.
Ryzek had stayed away from tonight’s challenge, but Vas joined me on the platform reserved for high-ranking Shotet officials. I sat on one side of it and he sat on the other. In dark spaces it was easier for me to avoid stares, with my currentgift buried in shadow. But I couldn’t hide it from Vas, who was close enough to see my skin flush with dark tendrils every time I heard Akos’s name spoken in the crowd.
“You know, I didn’t tell Ryzek about how you spoke to Zosita’s daughter on the loading bay before the scavenge,” Vas said to me, in the moments before Suzao entered the arena.
My heart began to pound. I felt like the renegade meeting was marked on me, visible to anyone who looked carefully enough. But I tried to stay calm as I replied, “Last time I checked, it wasn’t against Ryzek’s rules to speak to maintenance workers.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t have cared before, but he certainly does now.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for your discretion?”
“No. You’re supposed to treat this like a second chance. Make sure all this foolishness has just been a momentary lapse, Cyra.”