I wasn’t smiling. I swear. No matter what my reflection said.
The nap would have to wait.
I commed, stepping back onto the elevator and pushing the button for deck five.
His response was swift.
I said.
he asked, straight to the point in the way I always appreciated about both Morgath and his brother.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, emptying me out onto deck five. I always kept my estimates low because with Rax and Morgath, one meant eight and two meant twenty.
I hightailed it down the hallway, convincing myself along the way that the nerves bubbling up in my chest had everything to do with possible Argosian chaos and nothing to do with seeing Freddie again. Then I slowed as I neared the ballroom. While loud, warbling singing—interrupted by ground-trembling hiccups—echoed through the door, I commed Elanie.
Weaving through the guests that had amassed outside the ballroom, I peered inside. Yellow coveralls sleeves slid along the floorboards as the half-naked Argosian—myArgosian—spun in circles with…yep, that was definitely aserving drone.
Elanie replied.
she said, then clicked off.
Four of Morgath’s security mechs—titanium balls a meter in diameter that housed all manner of weaponry, crowd-dispersal tech, and ultra-intimidating voice programming—floated to my location, roving red lights encircling their circumferences like ominous Yuletide decorations. I positioned the mechs on either side of the ballroom doors, more to keep any guests who might decide to play hero out than present a show of force to the Argosian within. But I’d learned over the years that one could never be too careful.
Slinking silently into the ballroom, I spotted Freddie sitting at a table by himself, his chin resting in his hand, his suit jacket folded over his chair back, his tie pulled loose. When he saw me, his face brightened, and I lost my footing.
Freddie commed, standing halfway from his chair.
I replied, gesturing for him to sit back down.
He took his seat again.
I hid my grin, sliding along the wall until I reached his table. “What happened?” I asked while he pulled out a chair for me.
Rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, he admitted, “I don’t know. He’s been in here for about an hour, ten minutes of that spent sobbing in the middle of the dance floor, another ten drinking—and this is not an exaggeration—five bottles of rum, and the rest dancing with that drone he’s taken to calling ‘Kasa.’”
“Kasa!” the Argosian roared, squeezing the serving drone so tightly itbleep-bleepedout a warning while a bright-yellow light flared from its central panel.
I winced. “Was that its pressure sensor?”
“Third time it’s gone off. I’m worried he’ll crush the poor drone to bits.”
“Those aren’t cheap,” I said.
