“I appreciate the risk you’re taking,” Kira told him.
Gratitude was an uncomfortable and new experience for her.
In the past, she’d always played by the rule that it was far easier and less emotionally messy if she took things into her own hands. Who cared if a few laws got broken?
It was simpler that way.
Unfortunately, such a lifestyle was no longer conducive to her goals. She needed friends—and allies.
Also, she’d looked into doing this on her own. It was virtually impossible to penetrate the tight security of the place where she wanted to go. Not even the two best hackers she knew were confident in their chances of success.
Hence her asking Graydon for a favor of this magnitude.
Graydon’s smile was slightly crooked. “We both know you would have found your own way whether you had my help or not.”
True.
It would have been a tad messier, though. Not to mention she probably would have angered a lot of people she couldn’t afford to offend in the process. At least this way, she wasn’t in jeopardy of being thrown in a jail cell next to the person she was trying to get a conversation with.
Graydon moved past her. “I’m simply glad you chose to use words this time to ask for what you want rather than blunder forward on a dangerous plan that was bound to backfire.”
Kira followed him off the glass and onto the black floor as her companion, sensing Kira had won the argument, glided toward them.
“As always your faith in me is overwhelming,” Kira said in a dry voice.
Graydon’s chuckle rumbled from his chest as he stopped in the center of the room.
Kira frowned before noticing the complicated pattern inlaid into the floor. Almost unnoticed, due to the dark swooping lines that looked like shadows against the dark background.
Kira crouched, tracing a line with one finger. She jolted as a hum of electricity zipped up her arm.
“Recognize it?” Graydon asked.
“Should I?”
Tuann technology wasn’t always obvious. A simple stone could act as an unexpected communication device. A doorway could sometimes teleport you halfway across the planet, and apparently an unobtrusive pattern embedded in a floor could allow one to contact a secure prison—the location of which was so secret this was the only way to gain access.
“Ta Da’an.”
Graydon’s answer made Kira frown.
Her stay on the planet of Ta Da’an, home to House Luatha and her mother’s family, had been short—but memorable.
“I’m still not quite sure how you managed to project your consciousness onto my diplomatic ship since the Nexus isn’t really built for that. But this is the proper way to do the same thing,” Graydon explained.
Kira stiffened, avoiding Graydon’s gaze as she rose. “Ah. That.”
“My captain thanks you for your assistance, by the way.”
Kira’s nod was uncomfortable.
Her actions might have saved his ship and the planet from invasion, but she’d also used the chaos to her own advantage.
“This will enable us to astral project to the prison?” Kira asked.
The term “astral projection” originated from early nineteenth century Earth as a description for what was essentially an out-of-body experience where one projected their consciousness onto the astral plane.
Most humans considered the idea nothing but superstitious nonsense. How fitting that the Wizards, as humans sometimes called the Tuann, were the ones to make the idea into a reality.
