We turned a corner and nearly walked straight into Petru, who stood waiting with his usual calm authority. “I was about to have breakfast,” he said smoothly. “I’d be honored if you two would accompany me.”
Before I could respond, Sean’s stomach growled loudly, filling the silence. He gave a sheepish grin, perfectly timed to break the tension. “Guess that’s a yes.”
The corridor leading to the dining hall was grand and imposing, with stone arches looming overhead. We moved past heavy, worn tapestries, depicting brutal battles and stark landscapes.
Finally, we reached the massive double doors, fortified metal of course, and as Petru shoved them open, the flickering light from the chandeliers inside spilled out, beckoning us into the grand dining room.
We took our seats at the long table, when plates of food appeared before us: juicy roast meats, vibrant vegetables, and an array of crusty breads, filling the air with their scents.
He leaned back, studying us with quiet intrigue. “So, what brings you here?”
I kept my posture straight, forcing a calm into my delivery. “We heard about the Radicals threatening you to revoke your consensus,” I offered, cautious but direct.
Petru’s expression remained unreadable, though he gave a slight nod. “You heard right.”
“We came to see if we could be of any assistance.”
Slava’s Leader’s jaw tightened; skepticism clear in his features. “You want to assistme? I have one of the most refined military structures in the world. Why the hell would I needyourhelp?”
Sean, never one to hold his tongue, muttered through a mouthful of bread, “I see modesty is still your brightest feature.”
I fought the urge to kick my friend under the table, a flicker of frustration rippling through me. Petru didn’t even flinch at Sean’s sarcasm—his focus remained pinned on me, steady and unblinking.
“What is this really about?” His tone was direct, cutting through any pretense.
Yeah, there was no bullshitting this man.
I held his stare. “I want you to fight with us. I want you to join the Resistance.”
Petru’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “And what are you resisting?”
I forced down the first bite of my bland breakfast, reminding myself why Petru’s Collective wasn’t celebrated for its culinary prowess. “The Great Exposure,” I replied dryly.
Sean chimed in, his tone more serious. “But right now, our immediate concern are the Radicals. They’ve been threatening Collectives left and right with their Amplifier, forcing them to withdraw their consensus. They’ve attacked Cyclos and our own Collective, Crown. They need to be stopped.”
Petru didn’t look shocked, not the way I’d expected. A calculating stillness settled over him, more tactician than humanist. He sat forward slightly. “And why do you resist the Great Exposure, if I may ask?”
I took a breath, steadying myself. “There’s a war coming.”
“Between?” he pressed, his voice cool.
“Magi and humans,” I said, feeling the enormity of those words hang in the air.
Petru drew back just a fraction, disbelief written across his face. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? You might as welljointhe people you’re so hell-bent on fighting with that kind of thinking.”
“Never,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I will fight them with every single one of my Offensives until my last fucking breath.”
Petru leaned back again, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “Two wars. Well, well, aren’t you ambitious.”
I ignored the jab. “The Radicals are lunatics with a nuclear-level weapon. Calling them dangerous is an understatement. I’ve been gathering data on their movements and strongholds. But I need access to your Collective to track them. And we might need help to stop them.”
Petru’s demeanor shifted, a shadow passing over him. "You mentioned a war between magi and humans. When is this supposed to happen?"
I kept my answer deliberately vague. "Soon."
I hesitated, weighing my words. "It’s tied to our decision to hand over the LiaPrisms. I can’t tell you much more right now, but I will—soon."
To my surprise, he didn’t push further. "And your access to Slava?"
