THE ENEMY

JET FOUND HERSELF fighting to keep her expression still as she slid her butt over a cold stone bench. The four of them had just walked up the stairs to sit beneath a wooden pavillion on one end of the gardens. Now Trazen and Jet sat directly opposite of Anslom and Tyra with a stone table filling the space between them.

The pavillion sat at the bottom of a hill, surrounded by trees on all sides but one, where a lake lapped close to the stone steps. Above, a waterfall cascaded down, too symmetrical to be anything but Nirreth or man-made. Looking up at the falling sheets of water, Jet had a strange feeling of déjà vu. She found herself remembering her first meeting with Anaze behind the Trevi Fountain on the compound of the Royals, where he told her who he really was.

Here, too, the sound of gushing and rolling water filled the ambient space, making it difficult to think clearly.

Distracted now by Trazen and whatever was going on with Tyra and Anslom, Jet barely glanced at the fountain other than to note it would be difficult to climb, if they needed to get out of here in a hurry. Each level was made of wide, steppe-like stone flats and seemed to be cut into the mountain itself. Those steppes were steep, though, and looked slippery from moss and spray. So yeah, difficult to climb.

She had another flicker of realization that this wasn’t her home.

She didn’t belong here.

She belonged in the north, where the water flowed more freely, where oceans stretched to the west and the north, where the monsoon turned everything green and black with plant life and mold, where the only water didn’t come from Nirreth-made fountains and lakes.

Jet knew the land up there. She knew the trees. She knew how to get out of places if she needed to.

She didn’t belong here.

She finished arranging her seat and looked up, only to find Trazen staring at her again. The look in his dark eyes made her wonder if he’d heard her somehow.

But that was impossible. He wasn’t even touching her. Even if he was, there was no possible way the venom from her training would still be in her system.

Even as she thought it, he wound his tail around her waist. She flinched slightly when he pulled her closer, the feeling behind the gesture less of a question than an insistence. She didn’t protest, but felt her expression harden briefly before she forced herself to relax.

“You should have stung me,” she muttered to him, once she was close enough.

He gave her a sideways look when she glanced up.

“Not with you wearing that,” he said, smiling faintly.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. She felt the barest edges of a peace offering in his words, but couldn’t say she really understood how he’d meant them. Was he flirting with her to appease her in some way? Did he really think she was jealous?

Feeling her jaw harden, she clenched her hands on the tops of her thighs.

Hell, maybe she was jealous.

His tail tightened around her, pulling her even closer.

“I’ll sting you now, if you want,” he said, his voice a murmur against her ear. “Maybe I should. I’m a little tired of this sparring match.”

“Fine,” she murmured back out of the side of her mouth. She looked up, staring at him unflinchingly. “Go ahead. Sting me.”

He tensed, not looking away from her eyes. Before he could answer, Tyra spoke up from the other side of the table, speaking louder to be heard over the gushing fountain.

“Stop flirting, you two,” she said, grinning.

Trazen turned, his expression noticably hardening. “Why are we here? Jet said something about modifying the challenge match?”

Tyra flinched, then grinned, winking at him.

“All business, are you, Ringmaster?” she said.

Jet saw Trazen look over Tyra’s face, then glance at Anslom. It struck her that they’d been speaking English, and that the choice in language probably hadn’t been an accident.

“Why are we here?” Trazen said again.

Jet felt his tail tighten around her, squeezing her where she sat. She almost wondered if he would sting her, or if he was thinking about it. She could almost feel his indecision through the bare skin of his tail where it pressed against her arm.

That time, Anslom answered him instead of Tyra. The other male Nirreth slung an arm around the back of the stone bench where he and Tyra sat, flicking his tail sideways through the opening between the backrest and the bench’s seat.

“We know who you are, Trazen,” Anslom said.

Jet couldn’t help noticing that Anslom spoke his English with an almost perfect skag accent. He could have been from the pits in Vancouver BC.

“...We also know who you really work for,” Anslom said.

Trazen gave him an amused smile.

Even so, Jet felt a perceptible tightening of his tail.

“That’s hardly a secret, friend,” Trazen said.

“I don’t mean the Rings Board,” Anslom said. His dark blue eyes held a denser meaning as he glanced at Jet, then back at Trazen. His narrow mouth hardened. “...I don’t mean First Son Laksri, either, who we know you and Jet met with recently...”

Next to her, Trazen tensed more.

Jet felt herself tense too, although if it was due to Anslom’s words or Trazen’s squeezing her around the middle with his tail, it was a toss-up.

“We have people in that part of town, Ringmaster,” Anslom added. “You were spotted... all three of you. ‘Montan’ didn’t do as good of a job as you’d hoped, covering his tracks. We were able to determine that he’s still working with Richter in some way, too...”

Jet felt her own muscles tense abruptly at that.

Before she could decide whether to speak, Trazen pressed the end of his tail to the top part of her thigh, revealed by the dress. Without warning, the barb shot out. He stung her, pressing enough venom into her that Jet had trouble keeping it off her face. She could tell he wanted her to keep it off her face, which is the only reason she tried.

For some reason, she trusted him enough to try.

Even so, it hurt like hell getting stung in the leg, through muscle instead of softer flesh.

Once the venom hit her system, her mind flashed into a sharper clarity.

So did his.

Jet, we might be in trouble, Trazen thought at her at once.

Jet shot thoughts back at him, equally fast. Who do you work for? Who does he mean?

She felt hesitation on him. Then he seemed to make up his mind.

The Shinkara, he thought at her. I work for the Shinkara.

Jet’s mind lurched into confusion.

The Shinkara? That holy sect among the Nirreth, the ones Anaze’s Retribution had been about? The Shinkara supposedly commanded the Royals themselves; some Nirreth believed they ran everything from behind the scenes. Trazen couldn’t possibly have surprised her more if he’d said he worked for the Holy Eagle Church up in White Horse back home.

The Shinkara don’t run things, he corrected her. ... They evaluate. Monitor. Shift the broader historical direction of the Nirreth in small steps... but only on occasion and only when absolutely necessary. I’m just a foot soldier, Jet. I work for them. I follow orders...  He hesitated. We should not talk about this here. Now is not a good time for me to explain this. I just wanted you to know I don’t work for either prince. I don’t work for Richter, either...

Jet didn’t answer.

Trazen’s hand wrapped around her thigh, pulling her nearer to him.

We might have to fight our way out of here, he thought at her. If they really do know who I am, then neither of us is safe––

I understand.

Do you? If they work for Isreti, they will want to use me to legitimize this war against humans and any factions among the Nirreth they deem ‘disloyal.’ It is a purist movement they want... a return to the old ways, the old laws. Humans as food. Humans solely as slaves. They wish similar fates for the other colonized races, too... and even the lower clans of Nirreth. They would have your history erased, all talk of assimilation outlawed...

Trazen’s thoughts grew more grim. They will have you and I stung, Jet... kept in a cell. They will try to use both of us to say the Shinkara are in favor of this... that enlightened humans want it too.

Jet sent, They won’t intervene? The Shinkara, I mean... if you get caught?

Trazen hesitated again. That is... complicated. They would. They would intervene. But I cannot predict in what ways. They must think of the broader picture, Jet. You and I would factor in as a part of that... but we would only be a detail.

Jet was about to ask him more, but his thoughts cut her off.

We cannot talk about this now, Jet. Not here...

Turning that over, Jet felt herself agree.

She focused back on Anslom, right before she glanced at Tyra. Seeing the narrow look in the muscular woman’s eyes as she assessed her and Trazen, Jet found herself thinking Trazen was right. This wasn’t the time to grill him about this.

I’m sorry I could not tell you before, Trazen sent. I am sorry, Jet.

She felt a flicker of heat from him, a more complex array of emotions. For the first time, she found herself noticing the other effects of the venom.

What do they want from us? she asked him. Now, I mean. Do they intend to kidnap us?

I don’t know–– he began.

“––We know you work for the Shinkara, Trazen,” Anslom said carefully.

Next to Jet, Trazen tensed for real.

Not in alarm. They were past that now, Jet realized.

Trazen’s muscles bunched as if he was gearing up for a fight. Every muscle in his long body clenched, as if readying to leap over the table at the other male. He didn’t loosen his tail or hand around Jet’s waist or thigh though, and before she could make up her mind about that, Trazen stung her in the leg a second time. As the venom let go, she let out an involuntary gasp.

Even so, when it hit her blood stream, her mind grew crystal clear. Diamond clear.

She gave you something, Trazen said. Something in your drink. I can feel it.

Jet’s mind wrapped around this, examined it.

He was right. Even now, her thoughts were a little... off. She hadn’t noticed the fogginess until it began to clear in the seconds following Trazen’s first sting. The difference crept over her so subtly she hadn’t known anything was wrong.

Will it slow you down? he said.

Maybe, Jet said. Where do we go?

She felt him thinking about that, assessing the waterfall the same way Jet had done. His mind showed her what he’d already looked at with the fence around the estate’s grounds. Jet didn’t fully get the mechanism there, but she got that the fence was electric, although it had been shut off when Trazen first looked at it.

They couldn’t assume it would stay shut off, though.

Anslom and Tyra and whoever they worked for might have air transport.

It might be why they’d brought them up to the mountains.

They likely have others with them, he told her, thinking at her with more direction again. They must have others, Jet. Someone gave me a drink too. They gave you the drug to slow down your reactions. They would not think they could take me with only one...

Jet felt her muscles tensing, bunching up like Trazen’s.

She knew she and Trazen’s postures fed off one another’s, amplifying one another’s.

We’ll risk the waterfall, he told her. There’s another road up there. I can help you––

“Calm down!” Tyra said, sharp, causing Jet to turn. “Both of you! Right now! Calm down and don’t freak out until we finish!”

Jet stared at her, feeling Trazen do the same from next to her.

Tyra held up a hand, her voice and eyes an open warning, but also holding something like fear mixed with a more deliberate reassurance. She motioned both of them down, as if Jet and Trazen were standing and she wanted them to sit, though neither Trazen nor Jet had moved from their spots on the bench.

“...We don’t want you dead,” she added quickly. “We don’t plan to kidnap you, either. We don’t work for the First Son, okay? Either of them.” Her smile widened slightly, growing more shrewd. “Quite the contrary.”

“Meaning what?” Trazen said, his voice a low growl.

“Meaning, we’re allies,” Tyra said coolly, meeting his gaze. She looked back at Jet, as if still trying to measure her response. “We want to talk about this fight you have coming up with Bukka...”

“What about it?” Jet said.

Her voice came out aggressive, sharp.

Tyra’s eyes flickered from Trazen’s face to hers. She frowned, glancing at Anslom. “I thought you were going to have them drugged? So they’d be calm for this?”

Anslom shrugged, his tail making a warier arc as he watched Trazen cautiously.

“I did have them drugged, companion,” he said calmly. He motioned at Trazen. “He is stinging her... repeatedly, from her eyes... and from how heated he is getting. It is off-setting the effects of the drug. For both of them.” At Tyra’s frown, Anslom lashed his tail. “You said you did not want them to be impaired... just calm. So I did not give them much.”

Jet found herself watching the two of them warily.

Could they be telling the truth? she asked Trazen.

I don’t know.

But what do you think? she thought at him, exasperated.

“––We have something we want you to do for us, Jet,” Tyra said, jerking Jet’s eyes back to hers. Tyra pressed her palms to the stone table, then surprised Jet by chuckling. “Well,” she said wryly, glancing over her shoulder towards the fountain as someone walked out from behind the rocks. “...He does, really. He has something he wants from you.”

Jet stared at the figure approaching through the dark.

She frowned before she’d even made sense of his face, watching his familiar steps as he walked towards them out of the cluster of trees and rocks by the edge of the lake.

When he walked up the steps of the pavillion, his grav-boots creaked on each plank, even as the gold streak in his hair caught on the lamp-light that illuminated the snaking path that led up the hill towards the main house.

Meeting Jet’s gaze with his coffee-colored eyes, he smiled.

“Hello, kitten,” Richter said. “Miss me?”

JET DIDN’T THINK.

She was on her feet, leaping up from the bench and darting around the stone table before Trazen could pull her back. She moved fast enough that she managed to startle Trazen, causing him to release her probably more in shock than because he’d made the decision.

That, or maybe her emotions hit at his, too.

Or maybe she’d pushed him to let her go, using the venom in the other direction.

Either way, the surge of fury that rose in her made the emotional reaction she’d had when she’d first seen Laksri seem like nothing.

Richter had her family. He had her mother... and her brother, Biggs.

He’d killed Laksri. He pretended to kill him anyway, even if he hadn’t succeeded. He’d been the real reason Jet got taken prisoner on Astet. He left her behind, taking Anaze and Laks and ignoring her. He’d left her there... knowing full well she’d probably die.

He’d lied to her. He’d lied to her about... well, about everything.

He’d used her. Manipulated her.

He was her own race, and he’d done all of those things.

She didn’t think, swinging a fist at him as soon as she was near enough.

He moved, fast. Not as if he was expecting it––more like someone trained to fight moves in reflex to evade a blow. He ducked and wove, then came back at her like a boxer with a hard jab with his left fist, hitting her smack in the middle of her sternum and cutting her breath. He didn’t wait but followed with a cross that hit her right in the jaw.

Jet had forgotten she was wearing heels.

She also forgot she was still pretty beat up from her one and only Rings match in the past several months... and out of shape, at least when it came to fighting someone who knew what they were doing. Someone hungry. Someone who could survive in the skag pits, like her. It shouldn’t have escaped her mind for a second that Richter would be able to fight... and fight well... but somehow, in the heat of her fury, it had.

She found herself kneeling on the wooden floor of the pavillion, gasping, the wind knocked out of her, her jaw aching from the cross and jab to either side of her face. She hadn’t fully gotten her wind back when he kicked her in the gut, too, making her gasp. When she glared up at him, about to lurch to her feet, he snarled down at her, one hand held out forcefully in front of him.

“Stay down, goddamn it!”

He was panting, staring at her with angry eyes, his other hand held out to the other side of the table, presumably at Trazen.

“Just calm down! Both of you!”

Jet saw movement on the side of the table where Trazen sat.

In an instant, Richter had a gun in his hand, aimed at Jet’s head.

“Get up from that bench and I’ll shoot her dead, lizard skin,” he warned coldly, still panting, maybe partly in recovery from her attack. His eyes never left the other side of the table, where he appeared to be in a standoff with Trazen, although Jet couldn’t see the male Nirreth from where she knelt.

“Don’t test me on this!” Richter snapped, reacting to something Trazen had done, or maybe just the look on his face. “I know damned well you’d kill me... so don’t think for an instant I won’t take her with me!”

That time, Trazen must have believed him.

Jet saw some of the tension leave Richter’s face as he continued to stare in Trazen’s direction. Richter didn’t take the gun off Jet’s head, though.

“Now everyone just calm the hell down!” Richter said then, exhaling in near annoyance as he used his free hand to push the hair out of his face. “I came here to talk. Just to talk, damn it! We’re all on the same side... whether you want to admit it to yourselves or not!”

This last part felt aimed at Jet.

She let out a strangled laugh, still kneeling on the wood as she glared up at him, her hand pressed against her sternum. Her breathing was slowly returning to normal, even though each breath still cut at her lungs.

“Get up,” he snapped. He motioned with the gun towards the other side of the table. “Go to your boyfriend, Jet... before he does something stupid and I have to shoot you both.”

Jet frowned, but she glanced back over her shoulder that time.

Trazen stood there, his tail up in an open threat, his dark eyes with their gold flecks bright from the venom. She saw fury on his face, more genuine anger than she’d ever seen on him. The muscles in his arms were tensed, pressing against the fabric of his shirt, as were the muscles in his chest and neck. He looked frightening... borderline animalistic... but she couldn’t help thinking there was something almost magnificent about that fury too.

Seeing Trazen staring at her too, that predatory glare still flashing in his eyes as he lashed his tail, she pulled herself stiffly to her feet.

She knew Richter was right. Trazen really might do something stupid. Both of them might.

The venom made that almost a certainty.

She walked back to where he stood, without taking her hand off the sore spot in the center of her chest, and without taking her eyes off Richter and his gun.

When she got near enough to Trazen, he wrapped his tail around her, pulling her flush with his body without looking away from Richter’s face. He growled at the human male, the sound an open threat, and loud enough to make Jet jump.

“Calm down,” Richter said, his voice more impatient now than afraid. He looked between the two of them, shaking his head. “Jesus. I thought Laks had it bad. What the hell do you do to these lizard-skins, Jet? And how many times did you sting her, Ringmaster? The two of you look more like you’re ready to get a room than fight me for the damned gun...”

Anger touched his words that time, and Jet looked at Richter incredulously, rubbing her jaw where he’d hit her with the hand that wasn’t coiled around Trazen’s tail. She’d touched the Nirreth more in reflex than conscious thought, barely noticing she’d done it until she glanced down. Now she found herself stroking the silky skin there, exuding reassurance with each touch, even as she felt a shiver of reaction off him.

Okay, so Richter wasn’t exactly wrong.

Even so, Jet was bewildered that he could pretend the idea offended him at this point, like he really gave a damn about her, or about her being with any Nirreth for any reason, given that he’d put her in this position in the first place.

“What do you care, Richter?” she said, mirroring her thoughts.

He didn’t look at her, and when he spoke, his anger was still directed at Trazen.

“Didn’t you promise Laks you wouldn’t violate his precious girl, Ringmaster?” he said, that anger still apparent in his voice. “Do you lizards have any self control at all?”

Trazen’s aggression intensified. “That’s none of your business––”

“Isn’t it?” Richter sneered. “I would say it is, given everything. Moreover, it hardly makes you trustworthy, does it, Trazen? Screwing the girlfriend of your supposed ‘ally’ after explicitly promising you wouldn’t? Or did you think Laksri wouldn’t notice?”

Jet made a disbelieving sound, but Trazen spoke before she could.

“That is being me and him,” he said coldly.

Richter rolled his eyes. “You Nirreth. Such drama queens when it comes to sex. You’re worse than adolescent humans, do you know that?” It seemed a rhetorical question, since he didn’t wait for an answer. “All right. I’ll stay out of it. Hell, what do I care if two Nirreth want to draw blood over one human girl... ? I should get a finder’s fee from the winner though,” he said, giving Jet an openly leering wink. “After all, I’m the one who brought her in range of your stingers in the first place, am I right?”

Jet felt another surge of anger hit her, but couldn’t tell how much of it was hers and how much Trazen’s. It didn’t really matter, she supposed; she knew Richter mostly said it to piss them off. Although why he’d want to anger Trazen right now, given what he’d said, she had no idea.

He’s trying to unbalance me, Trazen told her through the venom. He wants me to feel cornered, like he’s going to tell Laksri what I’m doing with you...

You aren’t doing anything with me, she reminded him in a mental mutter.

He tightened his tail around her waist. No. Not yet.

Not yet?

Trazen didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her at first. Instead he continued to stare right at Richter’s face. Jet had already returned her own stare to Richter and the gun when Trazen surprised her, speaking to her mind with softer thoughts.

Did you mean what you said to Laksri, Jet?

Jet’s brow crinkled in puzzlement. She looked up at him. Which thing?

Trazen’s tail tightened perceptibly around her waist. When you told him that all agreements between he and I were void. The agreements we had about you. He looked at her, and the gold flecks in his eyes shocked her, causing her to stare up at him. You knew what you were saying, didn’t you? You knew how both he and I would take what you said?

Jet continued to stare up at him, bewildered at first.

Then, as she turned over his words, she felt her face grow hot. Shrugging, she told him the truth, knowing he’d probably feel it through the venom anyway.

Yes. Well... I knew how Laks would take it, she added. I knew how I meant it, and I knew he’d understood what I said.

And me? Trazen thought at her. How was I supposed to take it?

She didn’t look up that time, despite the prodding of his mind. Trazen, I don’t know.

He pushed at her mind again. Did you mean it?

Her fingers tightened on his tail. Trazen, this isn’t really the time––

Richter laughed, breaking into her thoughts.

“What are you saying to her, Ringmaster? Our beloved Samurai of the Rings is turning bright red. Are you trying to seduce her, even now?”

Jet felt the heat in her face worsen, but at least some of it was anger now. She glanced at Tyra and caught a smirk on the other woman’s face above where her muscular arms crossed her chest. The other female Rings fighter was still sitting at the bench across from them, leaning into Anslom’s side, listening and watching the interaction with them and Richter with a shrewd look on her high-cheekboned face.

Instead of addressing Richter, Jet spoke to Tyra. “You worked for him this whole time? Richter? Since I met you?”

She nodded. “He recruited me right out of the pits, Jet. Same as you.”

“Is that what they call it?” Jet said, giving Richter a hard look. “Recruitment? They used to call it something else.”

Tyra laughed. “Well, it happened a little differently for me, it’s true.”

Jet didn’t really care about that story though. Not now. She glared at Richter. “What about Laksri? Are you still holding his leash, too?” She gave Trazen a bare glance. “Was that whole thing at the warehouse in Santa Fe just for show?”

Richter folded his own arms, glancing down at Anslom and Tyra before he gave a single shake to his head. “No.”

“But you were there, right?” she said, her words colder. “I saw someone slinking around in the shadows that night. I’m thinking now that must have been you.”

Trazen gave her a surprised look, one Jet didn’t bother to answer.

She felt his surprise through the venom though, as well as his attempt to see what she saw that night while they were in that old building in Santa Fe. Without looking away from Richter’s face, Jet showed him her memories from that night, her glimpses of a familiar-seeming shadow in the main dining area and again while they were in that firelit room.

Looking at those memories again, she couldn’t be sure.

Richter only held up his hands, smiling at her. “And what if I was there?”

“Did Laksri know?” Jet’s jaw hardened more. “Or is Anaze still the one pulling strings for you these days? Manipulating Laksri from behind the scenes?”

Richter shook his head again, rubbing his stubbled jaw with one hand.

“Neither, kitten.” He smirked at her, meeting her gaze. “Much as I’d love to take credit for being the mastermind you seem to think me... my son still harbors delusions of rebellion and grandeur of his own, I’m afraid. If I’m not mistaken, him and Laks are trying to rescue your mother and brother from my people even as we speak.”

Jet flinched, her body tensing.

Next to her, Trazen held her tighter, as if warning her not to do anything stupid.

Weirdly though, Richter’s words gave her an irrational surge of hope. Maybe Laksri hadn’t been lying after all. Maybe him and Anaze really would help her get her family away from Richter’s people.

Richter must have seen that hope in her eyes because his light-brown eyes hardened to stone.  “Don’t get too excited, kitten,” he warned her. “They won’t succeed. Not in the way you’re hoping, anyway. You still don’t seem to understand just how many people I have working for me... watching things, keeping an eye on what’s going on. I’m sorry to say, I’ve known what Anaze and Laks were up to for months. And I can’t risk Isreti finding out about your family... or getting ahold of them for their own reasons...”

His frown turned closer to a scowl.

“Truthfully, I thought I raised the boy better than that... but his mother was always a pain in my ass, too. Hopefully I can make him see reason when I pick him and his friends up tonight. Hopefully I can convince him and Laks... and you, Jet... and your new playmate Trazen... that we all need to work together if we want to come out of this thing with Isreti alive...”

His eyes looked almost sincere when he added,

“We need one another, pet. We need one another. No matter how pissed off you are at me, you can’t be totally blind to what’s happening. Isreti is a fanatic. He’d wipe all of us out, given any excuse at all.” Richter turned, giving Trazen a direct look, his eyes unflinching. “He’ll happily wipe out a good chunk of his own people, too... isn’t that right, Ringmaster? You know exactly what kind of fantasies Isreti and his ‘followers’ like to entertain.”

Trazen didn’t speak, but Jet felt the Ringmaster agreeing with him.

Richter looked back at Jet, his voice growing more urgent.

“All this work to pull together a human rebellion... to find common ground with the Nirreth who just want to live in peace... it would be for nothing, Jet,” he said. “It could all be gone in the blink of an eye. Then you, me, Anaze, your family, Tyra here... we’d all be dead. More to the point, our people will have nothing. No second front. No future. No hope of an eventual easing of tensions with the Nirreth. There would be no rebellion. Only slaves. Cattle. And eventually, there likely wouldn’t even be that. We’d either be bred out of existence into a new race entirely... or they’ll simply wipe us out, given enough time.”

Jet felt her teeth grind together, but she didn’t speak.

Watching her, Richter let his scowl deepen, even as he rubbed his jaw with a free hand.

“Jet, for God’s sake! This can’t be about personal crap. Not now! If you’d put your grudge with me aside and just think for a minute... instead of throwing punches and yelling... I think you’d agree with me. We don’t have the luxury to fight amongst ourselves anymore.”

Jet found herself turning over his words, in spite of himself.

She also found herself reminded of how he ended up the leader of this rebellion... the human side of it, at least.

Richter still might turn out to be a sociopath, but he was good with words.

He paused, still studying her face. He didn’t look at Trazen at all now she noticed, only her. He seemed to think their cooperation hinged on her. Or maybe he really did think he needed her, even more than he needed Trazen.

His eyes held an added meaning when he said, “We’re alike in this, Jet. Remember? We are, as much as you hate it... as much as you’ll deny it up and down and swear at anyone who points it out. You and I are alike, kitten. Practical. Practical to the damned bone. It’s why you never outed me in that Palace. It’s why you went along with things when you first got culled.”

His brown eyes glittered harder in the path lights that shone into the pagoda.

“...It’s why you’ll work with me now,” he added, his voice deeper. “As much as you hate me, you need me, too, Jet. You know you do.”

Jet frowned.

Just like he’d said, she felt some part of her recoil at Richter’s words. She hated the idea that anything about the two of them could be alike... but she couldn’t really disagree with him, either. In truth, Richter’s words almost exactly mirrored thoughts Jet herself had had about the two of them. Clearly Richter had picked up on the same thing.

They were alike, she and him.

In this one area at least, they had a similar... tendency.

Ability maybe. Maybe even curse.

Jet, like Richter, could strip her personal feelings out of the equation almost entirely, if she felt the situation required it. She could stop caring about the means if they interfered with the ends... at least when those ends really mattered to her. She’d done that since she’d arrived in the Green Zone. Arguably, it was one reason she’d survived.

It might even be why Richter and Anaze had chosen her.

Even as a kid, Jet had been practical, maybe even to an inhuman degree. She’d always thought the pits had done that to her, but not everyone was like Jet in the pits either. She remembered her mother muttering about Jet’s ability to take her own feelings out of the equation, even back when Jet attended the skag school.

Maybe that made her an ideologue of some kind, like Richter.

Maybe it made her something else.

Either way, like Richter, she was what she was.

She also wanted what she wanted. She wanted her mom safe. She wanted her brother safe, and she wanted him to grow up to a better, less soul-crushing world. She wanted the human race to do more than simply survive. She wanted her uncle and aunt to do more than just die slowly in the skag pits or be forced to live as slaves... or be eaten.

She wanted her people to be free again. Really free. Not living in the shadows like cockroaches, feeding off the poisoned scraps left by psychotic Nirreth like Isreti.

She wanted the human race to remember who they used to be.

She wanted them to be something better this time, maybe.

She was willing, as Richter termed it, to be “practical” towards those ends.

Even if that meant making a deal with the devil himself.