Eight
Sithe
I am striding down the halls, my gaze darting in every direction. My body is shaking. Blood is squeezing through my veins like it’s being pumped under pressure.
This whole ship is full of blades. Anyone whose wrists I can’t see could be one of them.
Catarine stumbles against me.
My hold on her elbow tightens. She can barely walk, but I want to run. And I don’t know in which direction.
Arrisan gazes follow me as I pass. Every juncture, every hall. Every open doorway and room falls silent.
I’m at the highest threat level since finishing my training. At no other time in my life have I felt this hunted.
They’re all looking at her.
They’re all looking at me.
I avoid that hall—there’s the engineer, still working on the grav tube—and wind through the levels until I reach my
