“It doesn’t track,” Jena said, her voice echoing through the mess hall. She sat in a plastic chair with her feet propped up on a table, her hands folded behind her head as she scowled at the wall. “Why would they do this? There’s no tactical advantage.”
Della’s evening gown was a bit rumpled after her experience at the theatre. Her hair was a mess as well, flyaway strands all over the place. Sitting in the middle of the room, she sighed. “Does it really matter? They did it.”
“I don’t think they did,” Jena replied.
Larani stood next to her, stiff-backed and full of disapproval. The sight of it reminded Melissa of all those meetings in her office. Things had been so much easier back then. “It does feel a bit off,” Larani said. “The Ragnosians stand to gain nothing by this. It was a waste
