Twenty-Two
Sithe
The discipline conference with Zai is worse than any nightmare.
I sit on an open-backed bench.
Zai stands across from me, his triple-blades crossed, his fury so cold, it freezes me in place. “Which is it? You and Atana are collaborating to weaken the blades and collapse the empire for your own reasons? Or you decided to execute the traitors who approached you on your own, before I could interrogate them and find out how deep your treason runs?”
Every muscle tenses.
Sweat pours down my back.
Zai extends his central pike. The deadly piercing tip waves in front of my throat. “Which is it?”
“Neither.” My voice cracks.
His lids lower to half. “Come on, Sithe. You really expect me to believe you executed those engineers in a training accident?”
Zai looks worse than he
