Page 120 of Reaper Said Mine

“You are being unreasonable,” I say.

“I am being professionally necessary.”

“You are being targeted.”

“And if the attack involves diplomatic positioning, press absence becomes part of the record. Whoever is manipulating this wants confusion. I can document what happens.”

“You can document from a secure feed.”

“A secure feed controlled by your station, edited by your security protocols, and deniable by every faction in the room. My presence matters.”

“My patience thins.”

“Your patience is not the core issue.”

“It is about to become one.”

Skahar coughs into his hand, and the sound contains far too much amusement.

Ursa’s voice softens, which somehow makes things worse. “I know you’re scared.”

The command spine goes silent.

I look away from my officers because I can tolerate many things, but not their faces while this human woman names the thing beneath my anger like she is placing a hand on a wound.

“I am not scared,” I say.

“Fine. You are strategically furious about my possible injury.”

Vakka makes a strangled sound.

I turn my glare on everyone in the room. They all suddenly remember duties elsewhere without moving a muscle.

Ursa continues, “I’ll accept the guards. Close enough to annoy me. I’ll stand away from the delegate line. I won’t touch food, walls, vents, decorative objects, suspicious plants, or anyone’s ceremonial knife collection. But I am attending.”

“You bargain badly.”

“I bargain honestly.”

I look at Skahar.

He lifts both brows in the expression he uses when I have already lost and everyone but me knows it.

“Fine,” I say.

“Thank you.”

“You will wear a shield tag.”

“I will wear a shield tag.”

“You will not argue with the guards.”

“I will argue only if they deserve it.”

“Ursa.”

“That was my best offer.”