“You know I don’t want to marry him, Mother,” I said, feigning disinterest, while every muscle primed itself, screaming at me to flee.
“What you want is irrelevant, child.”
Kri’s shit-fire, I was twenty eight years old, not a skykking child.
My serenity is the hidden dagger that strikes at dawn.
My words rang out with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. “Regardless, I can do more for our family on theDorimisa. Haven’t I brought in far more than anticipated? And, as you’ve already pointed out, I can tolerate wider galactic society more than some here.”
Desperation welled up, pushing more words from my throat. “The fei Sinlas are weak. I’ve heard rumours about them. Wouldn’t we be better served uniting with a better placed family?”
“It is not a discussion.” Her hand darted out, and pain exploded in my cheek. She plucked another piece of awmi fruit from the table. “You will do as I say, Shohari.”
Anger burned hotter than my cheek.The skyk I will.
I ignored the sharp sting. Airida should be safely away by now. “No.”
“So I understand.” She pulled a comm-tablet from under the table. “You have been quite the busy girl.”
My hands started shaking, and I clenched them into fists. “You know I work hard, Mother.”
She placed the tablet on the table, a hologram hovering above the food baskets.
I flinched.
It wasn’t the best picture, but it was clear enough to identify Paiata, Muzati and I on Aurora Five.
And Garrison. Who I was kissing.
She spat her words at me. “Imagine my disgust when I received this from Madame mai Lyndri.”
Clarity struck me as hard as Mother had.
Captain Araifi mai Lyndri also had Orkri’ian crew. They’d been there on Aurora Five.
IknewI’d recognised them.
Skyk.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
A little short for a kri’ith
Garrison
OUR TARGET wasthe cottage on the far side of the estate by the border wall. There was no doubt Airida would be there; he wasn’t allowed to leave his immediate perimeter.
“Five life signs outside,” Tokki said, showing us the imaging.
Two retainers in the cottage garden and three people around the grounds. Probably gardeners or kitchen staff having a break. Shohari had been over this with us dozens of times, and I liked to think we knew the layout and workings of her old home almost as well as she did.
I examined the opportunities for cover, still getting used to the augmented vision through the helmet I wore. “We’re going to have to go the long way round.”
“Agreed.”
Shohari didn’t want us to harm the staff or fight dishonourably, but the rest of us were in agreement this mission would succeed in any way possible. It churned my stomach, but all our lives were at stake.
We took an opportunity to dash down the ramp and hide underneath it, making sure our shadows stayed hidden. It was cramped, but I could sit and wait. Or squat and wait. Lie down. Some other kind of contortion.