“I had help.” I waved for him to follow me onto the landing, then touched my charm and summoned Damas.
Another battle so soon? Damas looked up and down the walkway and then out to the parking lot.
“No. One of Pariah’s soldiers wants to see you.”
To see me? Damas turned to face me, his green eyes judging. You interrupted my stalking of the delicious yerboka so some tourist can gawk at me?
“Oh, he’s completely dope,” Clarke said.
Completely what? Damas asked.
Don’t ask. Out loud, I said, “Dope? Does that rate higher or lower than dank?”
That had been Diavan’s adjective for Damas.
“Dank? Who said that? He’s not a dub bag of weed.”
I do not understand the language this man is speaking, Damas told me.
I know. Me either. Just look regal for him for a minute, and then you can go back to
