“No one knows I’m here.”
“But if they’re looking for you, getting a DNA match from everyone here would be a way to do it.”
I take the bag back from where it sits beside Ferrok’s feet and turn it upside down, spilling out a pile of money.
“Query. How much money is this?”
“Seven thousand, four hundred, and sixty-two Trulavian CCals. The equivalent in US dollars would be two million, seventy-three thousand and seven dollars.”
Jesus, fuck. “Would that be enough money to betray minor royalty?”
The bot doesn’t answer, and I’m not asking it.
“I really don’t think that’s what it is.” Ferrok says quietly.
“What else could it be?”
Neither of them has an answer for me.
CHAPTER 1
Apparently, there are no red flags when you dump an ungodly amount of money into your account on this station.
The automated system had accepted the bag of CCalliterallydumped into the deposit compartment that looked like a very strangely shaped funnel.
When the exchange rate had gone through, my stomach had done a little flip.
It was more than I’d earned at Phantom’s in the entirety of my time working there.
The number wasn’t as concerning as whatever it had actually paid for.
Even though Ferrok wasn’t worried about it, I was, and every once in a while I noticed Mooralan scanning the corridors around us.
But inside their apartment, I felt safe.
Laying on their couch, I have my head on Ferrok’s lap while I read a novel that Cherry got Phantom to translate.
It’s awful, and I love it. I don’t know what half of the technology is, but they added little dictionary links to most of the words that weren’t able to be translated.
Ferrok flips through channels I can easily block out, because I can’t understand any of the languages.
Until he makes a noise.
“The king is dead,” he says.
“Long live the king.” I look up at him, and the concern on his face kills any and all other thoughts of joking.
“That’s why the Trulavian wanted my blood.”
Mooralan curses from the other room, and Ferrok has gone so still, I sit up, curling one leg under me to look at him.
“What does that mean?”
Coming out to the living room with us, Mooralan says, “It means the heir is probably on a bastard hunt.”
“But why would he care about bastards… He’s the heir, so he’s the king, right?”
“Not necessarily. Some bastards have challenged for right to rule in the past, and they’ve won. If he thinks that’s possible… he’s dangerous.”
