Lara gritted her teeth and knocked once, then twice.

  “Zanatos,” she called meekly.

  When she didn’t receive a response from behind his office door, the looks of passersby prompted her to anxiously smooth over the bottom of her dress.

  It took the questioning eyes of one more stranger before she shook her head and wandered opposite the way she’d come.

  The night before, she’d experienced a deeper sleep than she would’ve liked, not quite realizing just how thin the events of the 48-hours prior had worn her. Lara had originally wanted to sleep lightly, in the event that Jonathan or Scarlet had sent anyone up to her room. But when she had startled awake that morning and laid in bed for nearly an hour, she was surprised to find that no one bothered to check in on her.

  In terms of Jonathan, this was a relief. In terms of Scarlet, this was problematic.

  That, alone, had served as her sole motivation to leave the pillowy bed. Lara had walked toward the wardrobe, then, swallowing her pride as she opened its doors and reviewed its contents once more. She’d settled on the most casual piece of the selection. In the process of stepping into it, she had noticed a door handle on the left-hand corner of the room.

  Upon investigation, it had revealed a parlor-sized bathroom. The same ornately engraved wallpaper from the bedroom encased the walls, and a white claw-foot tub with a golden shower-head sat beneath the bathroom’s window. Lara had then walked toward the sink opposite the bath to review herself in a mirror for the first time since her departure from Champaign. She’d found herself to be a nearly unrecognizable mess of hair and pale skin masked in dried residue, and had promptly thrown herself into the shower, vigorously scrubbing away.

  The horror of imagining how much worse she’d looked the night before flustered Lara even now as she stood at the top of a staircase. She could feel herself drowning in a wave of anxiety as she drifted down the stairs and floated in a random direction through small groups of business people, not quite in search of anything.

  At least in Champaign she’d had the library. She even went so far as to allow the notion that she’d had the familiarity of Sammi and Pav. Now, all she had was waiting.

  It was the flicker of something to her left that caught her eye and returned her to the present.

  Lara turned to stare at a screen of moving images behind her doubled reflection on two pristine glass walls. She’d seen retired televisions with their functions long gone, but never anything so thin and colorful.

  Between the two glass walls was a room with white tile. Two desks faced one another on opposite sides of the space in between the walls, while a central glass door led to a conference room which was fully wrapped by windows for a panoramic view of Freehelm.

  She stepped into the first room to get a closer look at what appeared to be Gurram. The tv jumped between images of small protests, yet it was the scene of a hollow-faced woman that held her attention.

  The woman’s hair was kept by a worn gray bandana, while her clothes were a mess of mismatched layers. Unable to make out the audio, Lara watched as the woman uttered a few sentences when her jaw began to tremble, and she was forced to stop and wipe at both cheeks with a full palm.

  Already suspicious, Lara turned her eyes to the line of text on the screen below the woman.

  Guarramian’s Son, Q2, 19, Allegedly Killed

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  Lara closed her eyes, and her stomach dropped to what felt like a bottomless pit as she visualized the person Lethe had collided with the night before.

  Looking back at the screen, she compared his features to the woman’s.

  “Miss?”

  Lara turned to see a shorter male with a sandy-colored ponytail entering the room.

  “I’m sorry, I was distracted by--”

  “The news,” he finished for her as he headed toward the desk on the left-hand side and set down a small stack of papers. “Yes, dreadful -- absolutely dreadful. It’s always something with Gurramians. You would think they’d just be thankful to even exist within the boundaries of Circa rather than out in the wild. But, anyway, how can I help you?”

  Lara was taken aback by how quickly he spoke while maintaining a chipper tone. It made it slightly more difficult to immediately recognize the seething comments beneath his dapper disposition.

  “My name is Lara, I’m--”

  He clapped his hands together, interrupting her, yet again. “Oh, yes! Miss Ravenswood, it’s such a pleasure to meet you! I’m Penny.” He bounced over and shook her hand. “Confident grip! You never feel that with any of the Freehelm ladies these days.”

  Lara pulled her hand back.

  “Zanatos usually informs me of nearly nothing, but he at least informed me of you.” He leaned in, and in a more hushed tone added, “I really feel like I might finally be making it here.” He returned to the higher-pitched level that appeared to be his regular speaking voice. “Anywho, how may I help you, Miss Ravenswood?”

  “I’m actually looking for Zanatos,” she answered, putting aside her reservations.

  “Oh, no. He’s very much occupado today, as he always is. Meetings, you know. Have you seen the news? It’s absolutely unruly. Now, I said that he doesn’t tell me much, but I have eavesdropped enough to know that they most certainly wouldn’t want that unrest spreading from Quadrant 2 to Quadrant 4. Guarramians.” He tapped a stack of papers against a desk. “Of course, I wouldn’t know for sure. Just my two cents based off of what I’ve heard today during trip arrangements, setting appointments, running around--”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Lara said, not sorry at all. “But did you say you handle all of the travel arrangements?”

  Penny’s lips curled into a smile as he rolled his eyes happily, “I mean, I don’t do everything.” He leaned in with the hushed tone once more. “But just between you and I, it’s all me. I was only supposed to be handling the Director’s affairs, not everything under the sun.”

  Lara nodded, easing into a quickly constructed persona. “That’s one of the reasons I was looking for Zanatos. One minute I’m running… errands, the next, I find out that I have to go down to Gurram to... conduct an assessment of the Quadrant.”

  “Ugh!” He spat, startling her. “And then he leaves you with zero information and expects you to do yours -- and everybody else’s -- job while he hides out in meetings all day. This. Is. What. I’ve. Been. Saying!” Lara nodded through her confusion as he clapped to seemingly emphasize each word.

  “Don’t worry; I’ve got you.” Penny sauntered over to his desk and back to her with a glass tablet in hand. He traced a similar set of circular motions onto the surface and swiped around as it lit up. “What is it, 11?”

  “Pardon?”

  “AM.”

  “I haven’t any clue.”

  “Same. I’ll schedule you for a late afternoon trip so that Evie has enough time to fit you for travel-wear.”

  “Who’s Evie?”

  “Evelynn,” he answered, clucking his tongue. “She’s one of two in-house designers that do the Freehelm specific gear.”

  “Why can’t I just go in this?”

  He scoffed, still maneuvering his tablet. “Oh, you’re so cute. Come with me, I’ll take you down.”