Page 147 of Reaper Said Mine

“How predictably observational.”

Skahar makes a quiet rasping sound that might be approval or indigestion.

Theryki tilts her head. “You must understand the perception problem. You arrived as press. You now move through restricted station areas, attend negotiation spaces, and maintain a public bond with the host sovereign. Every report you produce will be viewed through that lens.”

“Correct.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction. She expected argument. Instead, I give her the truth and watch her adjust around it.

“I’ll disclose the conflict,” I continue. “I’ll document the access. I’ll publish the evidence chain so anyone competent can challenge the analysis. What I won’t do is pretend perception is more important than proof simply because perception serves people who dislike the proof.”

Theryki’s smile turns sharper. “Proof can be manufactured.”

“So can concern.”

Her gaze moves past me toward Gnash. “He trusts you too much.”

I do not turn around. I feel him before I hear him, heat and presence and a sudden hush spreading through the people nearby. When Gnash reaches my side, the gallery changes around us. Conversations continue, but thinner. Theryki has achieved what she wanted: she has pulled us together under observation.

“Ambassador,” Gnash says.

“Lord Gnash.” She inclines her head. “Ms. Ramone and I were discussing credibility.”

“No,” I say. “We were discussing whether you can frame mine as compromised before I publish something inconvenient.”

A few nearby aides stop breathing correctly.

Gnash looks down at me, and despite the risk, despite the eyes, despite Theryki standing close enough to smell the blood in the water, I see pride flash through his face before he hides it.

Theryki’s voice remains cool. “I would caution against making accusations in a room full of witnesses.”

“Good,” I say. “I like witnesses.”

Gnash’s mouth twitches. “Ursa.”

“I’m being diplomatic.”

Skahar snorts. “Poorly, but with spirit.”

Theryki’s gaze sharpens between the three of us. She is watching the dynamic now, not merely the bond. She sees that Gnash does not silence me. She sees Skahar amused rather than alarmed. She sees that I am not positioned behind Gnash as ornament or hostage or hungry opportunist. That worries her, and it should.

“Perhaps,” Theryki says, “we should speak privately when emotions are less heightened.”

Gnash’s voice goes very soft. “My emotions are not heightened.”

That is the sort of lie only a warlord can tell while sounding like a threat.

Theryki lets the silence stretch just long enough to be noticed, then offers a perfect smile. “Of course. Enjoy the evening.”

She withdraws without hurrying.

I wait until she is far enough away before exhaling. “She knows.”

Gnash looks down at me. “What did you find?”

“Not here.”

His expression hardens. “Now.”