But it had worked. Seeing Sin unable to walk, she'd run through a list of scenarios until she found something feasible with a high rate of success: hiding. Knowing she couldn't blend in while wearing her robes, she'd withdrawn as much cash as she could, then made for the first clothing store she'd seen. The Legion worship symbol behind the service counter had been all it took for her to ask if he was a believer.
Jaime had been more than willing to proclaim his faith, and all of his micro-expressions made her believe he was truthful. It was why she'd asked for his help, and the man had given it readily. He'd found her clothing that wasn't revealing yet would blend in—including the mask to hide her hideous, enhanced appearance. Once she no longer looked like an Ingénue, she'd convinced Jaime to help carry Sin inside. The wad of bills she'd handed him had removed any hesitation.
Eventually, Trent returned. He pushed the door closed, then gently touched Rissa's arm. "Princess, huh?"
"He said I was a spoiled princess."
The tough guy laughed. "Are you?"
"No."
"Why the hell were you walking to City Hall?" he asked.
She dropped her head. "I like to walk."
"With your kind dropping like flies?" He scoffed. "Yeah, kinda surprised he lets you. I'm parked around the corner."
And with that, he decided it was time to go. Trent gathered her things and guided her out of the store and to his small car parked around the corner. When they reached it, he opened the door, then assisted her inside, unaware this was an entirely new experience for her. She'd never been allowed to ride in a car.
Rissa took a deep breath. It smelled of new plastics and glues, along with the dye for the fabric seats. When he closed the door behind her, her ears popped. It didn't take long before the other door opened, and he took his place behind the controls.
"You good?" he asked. "That crap can't be easy for someone like you."
"I think I killed a man."
He shot her a surprised look. "Ok?"
"He was going to shoot Sin. I saw him on the dumpster beside us, but he didn't see me. Brother Sin had dropped one of his weapons, and the gun was within my reach." She took a long breath. "The man was right there, so I pulled the trigger. I think I killed him, but I didn't want him to kill my Legate."
"Yeah... You gonna be able to do this transfer?" Trent asked, gently patting her leg.
"Yes." There was no other option. She could make a guess—a very educated guess—as to what Sinclair was planning, and he needed her to get this done.
Trent simply grunted, then started the car. It lifted from the ground slightly and moved into traffic. The trip was a short one, since they'd almost made it the whole way on foot.
"Hang on," Trent said, climbing out. A second later her own door opened, and his thick hand brushed the back of her arm. "Your Highness," he teased.
She stepped out, and he moved to her side, but his hand never left. Together they headed up the stairs toward the main entrance of the City Hall building. The whole time, she examined the stout man beside her. Like Sin, he didn't appear to be a typical priest.
But on his chest, the necklace with the eye was visible. It bounced against his shirt with each step, almost as if it was demanding to be noticed. When he saw her looking, Trent smiled down at her kindly. Rissa felt oddly comfortable with him, almost as much as she did with Sin. She also realized the Legates treated her more like a person than anyone else had in her life.
"Can I help you?" a woman asked when they entered.
"Ingénue R1554-9370S-02K16 has your answer," Trent said, his deep voice almost intimidating.
"Oh!" she said. "One moment."
They stood there in the marble foyer, silent. Seconds ticked past, and then minutes, before the tread of hard-soled shoes sounded on the stairs. Rissa knew she did not look like what was expected, but that didn't mean she shouldn't act as she'd been trained. Anything else would get back to OutLink, and she feared a mental wipe even more now than she ever had before.
"Legate?" a woman asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Trent answered, sounding amused. "Do you need verification?"
"Please."
Rissa held up her arm, the dark lines of the barcode stark against her skin. The woman produced a reader, and a soft beep confirmed her code had been validated. Then the executive turned her eyes on Trent.
"And you?" she asked, lifting the scanner to prove what she meant.
