“Look,” I try again. “It wouldn’t even matter if you knew the difference between a fitted and a flat sheet. Rosabelle is a trained assassin. She doesn’t know you and she won’t trust you. She’ll be trying to kill you constantly—”
“Um, I thought the idea was that the girl only gets to live if she’s willing to cooperate,” Nazeera says. “If Rosabelle wants to be an asshole about living in my house, I’ll be happy to put her out of her misery.”
I turn to face Warner, alarmed. “Are you hearing this? She thinks she can troubleshoot her issues with murder—”
Juliette stifles a laugh.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Nazeera says, shoving her hands in her hoodie pocket. “Just because I don’t know how to iron a shirt doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. It means I grew up with maids who did everything for me, and you can blame my parents for that. They were more interested in me learning how to kill things than clean things. And at least now I know how to cook—”
“You only learned to cook because Kenji wanted to learn to cook!”
“Whoa, uh-uh,” Kenji says, laughing nervously. “Don’t bring me into this. Even though it’s true that I’m an excellent cook. Definitely a better cook—”
Nazeera makes an exasperated sound.
“All right, that’s enough,” Warner says. “Nazeera is the daughter of a supreme commander. Her training and insight will prove invaluable, and she’ll be more than capable of handling whatever comes her way.”
“But—”
“Take the win, James,” he says to me. “This is a good compromise. I’ll have to let Hugo down; but of the two, this is the stronger option.”
“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Juliette says thoughtfully, considering Nazeera. “But are you sure you have the time, long-term, to take this on? It might end up being a bigger project than we anticipate. When do you need to get back home?”
“Not for a few months,” she says. “The timing is perfect, actually, because I was already planning for a leave of absence. I’ve delegated responsibilities back home. Haider is prepped to handle most things while I’m gone.” She lifts a shoulder, then drops it. “I was hoping to buy some furniture for my place anyway.”
“Excellent,” Warner says, the word decisive. “Consider this decision final. We’ll need a few days to make the arrangements, but once you’re ready, we can talk about discharging Rosabelle from the hospital—”
“Wait, what?” I say, my agitation spiking. “A few more days? You can’t wait that long—”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re going to fucking kill her!” I explode.
Everyone stills, staring at me like I’ve detonated a bomb. Like I’ve lost my mind. Even Juliette looks shell-shocked.
I drag my hands down my face, hating myself.
A little mortified.
Nazeera shakes her head at me, eyes wide. “James. Seriously. What did we just talk about?”
I take a breath, try to calm down.
“I’m just— Look,” I say, struggling to keep my voicenormal. Panic is surging through my veins like poison. “We’ve never run tests on her. We have no idea how her power works. She’s already been brain dead for three days—”
“Bro, maybe you should take a walk,” Kenji says, studying me with genuine concern. “Get some air.”
I look at him and say nothing, even as my heart hammers so hard against my ribs my vision dims at the edges.
The more I freak out, the calmer Warner gets.
“James,” he says. “You’ve tragically misunderstood me. I couldn’t care less whether the girl survives. Perhaps if there was some guarantee she’d speak—that she might become a real asset—I’d be more inclined to inconvenience myself, but making arrangements for her now is merely a hedge against possible disaster. It’s a contingency plan in the case we can’t solve the mystery of the vial on our own. She’s already cost us time and resources we can’t spare. I’d decided days ago to kill her; I will not go out of my way now to keep her alive.”
“But—”
“No.” He cuts me off angrily. “We have no idea whether she has an interest in an alliance, and I have no confidence that upon waking she’ll tell us anything worthwhile. She was in prison for nine days and said nothing. Not a sound.” His eyes flash. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to remain perfectly silent fornine days?Do you even understand the mental fortitude necessary—the discipline required to keep yourself from saying so much as a single word fornine days—”
“I’m not—”
