The rest of the day continued on like a shadow. After the photoshoot we showered, changed, were fed lunch, and filled out paperwork. Never once did they ask us about the destroyed starship

“I dunno,” I hissed over to Pen. “I kinda thought they would have whipped us over it at least.”

“I still think they’re going to make us salvage the wreck,” Penelope said. “Then, we can get ambushed by the Xorosian’s again and not have any vessel to retreat to.”

“It would be a pretty good opportunity to off us,” I agreed. “And if they decided we couldn’t board a vessel until every scrap of debris had been cleaned up, then they could just let us run out of air, easy and simple.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Leda said. “They want the debris to rain down on the Xorosian homeworld and cause some chaos. They’ll make us pay for the damages, I’m sure.”

“With what money?” I scoffed. “We couldn’t even afford rent in Lacadaemon if we pooled all our money together.”

“No, I think she has a point,” Penelope said. “Then they can track our kill counts and how many crowns we’ve earned.”

“Hey, maybe after we’ve paid off the Parataxis, then we can earn enough money for our freedom,” I said.

“Hysterical,” Pen deadpanned.

“I don’t think there exists enough money in the whole galaxy for that,” Leda smiled. “We might be the government’s whores, but at least we’re expensive whores.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is mercenary,” Penelope said.

“No, no. Mercenaries get paid,” I said.

“So do whores,” Penelope pointed out. “We’re gladiators.”

“I think gladiators got paid too, sometimes. Maybe,” I said.

“Even if they didn’t, it still doesn’t fit,” Leda inspected her nails. “I like ‘whores’ because it carries with it the weight of degradation.”

I felt Penelope stiffen next to me. Leda’s voice carried such the feeling of lightness and tranquility that she easily masked any negative emotion whatsoever. What’s more, she only joined our crew a year ago and before that, no one owned her. Penelope had been owned by the Navy since the day she turned sixteen. I was born poor enough that my life belonged to the OEHS the moment it existed.

“Hey, some whores don’t think sex work is degrading at all.” I said to try and cut the tension. “They basically rule Lacadaemon and don’t let the satraps or the knights tell you any different.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Cress,” Leda said. “We better figure out how to be real entertaining really quick or they’re going to start renting us out to the highest bidder.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Penelope and I exchanged a glance. Her voice, smooth like glass and twice as sharp, made it impossible to tell if she was joking or not.

“Do you—” Pen started to ask, but was interrupted when Hera entered the room.

She stood with her heels pressed together and a tight smile across her face. “I am here to inform you that your paperwork has been accepted and as a result you are permitted one visitor for the day.” Her voice was eerily similar to Leda’s, but less effective because I could hear every ounce of contempt dripping from it. “Laophante has requested to take you to the Hotel Icarus for the night while we arrange for more permanent lodging. As per protocol you must-”

“Hera, they know already,” Laophante said as she pushed through the door. Her pale blue dress was laced with gold and rushed like a waterfall around her. She didn’t stop until she had gathered Leda in her arms.

Penelope and I bowed a small greeting to her and she nodded her head back.

“My goodness,” Laophante said, holding Leda’s cheeks between her hands. “You look so lovely, after such a rough fight as well.” She turned to the rest of us. “I trust Leda has patched up your injuries as well as she is able?”

“Yes ma’am,” Penelope bowed her head once more, as if it were impossible to lay eyes on the splendor that was Laophante Selihu.

“If your matters are all finished here, I would like to get going to the Icarus,” she said, picking up the hem of her skirt.

I eyed the unfinished paperwork.

“I will still need time to organize your guard—” Hera began.

“There really is no need,” Laophante said. Her voice was serene and pleasant. “I fear not for my safety or the safety of my daughter.

“While I am sure you can trust Leda a great deal,” Hear sang, “I feel compelled to remind you that the other two are murderous criminals. I wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen.”

“You worry too much, Hera dear. They would never lay a hand on me, of that much I am sure.” Laophante waved Penelope and I over to her. “Come, children, our transport awaits.”

***

You see, even back then, Laophante wasn’t a fool. Her assessment that we would never hurt her was accurate, barring some great treason. Out of the nine masters that represented the OEHS to Olympios Rex, she was the one who was able to give a voice to us and other prisoners embroiled in Rex’s system. It comes as no surprise, then, what happened to her after we escaped.

***

On that ride to Hotel Icarus, we ate so well. I had no idea it would be the last time I’d eat something prepared by a human in years. She brought homemade dankwa, candied cashews, baklava from a recipe she tried for the first time, and spiced oranges.

“Let me know if it’s a little off,” she said as she pressed the wax cloth wrapped treat into my hands. “Your mother had talked about making it for you when you were small. I’m sure my attempt doesn’t come anywhere close, but I wanted to try, nonetheless.”

Nothing but rage filled my chest when Laophante mentioned my mother. I thought I couldn’t hate any singular person more than I hated her, right then. In this sweet, sincere gesture, I heard only the insidious truth behind what she was saying.

While she and Hera Martin were talking politics and sipping tea, she saw my mother serving them on her knees. She spoke to my mother and asked about me before she even knew who I was. She got to know about these secret, sweet memories I kept only for myself. She smiled at my mother, turned her back, and left her there in the service of General Martin.

I didn’t understand anything then and I don’t understand much now, but I didn’t eat a bite of that baklava that day. I don’t remember much, if I’m being honest. I trailed after Penelope like a baby duck since she was the only person I could stand being around in that moment. Our hotel room was large, with a kitchen we didn’t use and three beds in three different rooms. Whatever ‘real dinner’ Laophante was referring to in her note to Leda, never came.

What came instead were armed guards meant to keep us in and a video call from a showrunner.