89
She woke from a sleep so heavy, so dreamless, she knew Hamal had slipped her something. She would have said no, told him not to put her out, not to take her awareness, and set her up for some other betrayal. But he didn’t ask.
When she woke, it took too long to clear her head, too much time to remember where she was, who was with her. She couldn’t find a chronology to her memories.
She lay in a fogged, almost-awake state, vaguely aware of people around her. Vaguely aware she was no longer on the plane. She was some place she’d didn’t recognize. The smells were different; the sounds. Salty air, combined with the whisper of the tide, meant it was a place she’d never been.
Sabik Han, the Ophiuchus, had come. She’d been on his plane.
She remembered his claim that he could keep her safe
