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Someone better not have scratched my knives.

I could forgive the Council for moving my clothes without asking. Clothes were replaceable. If somebody had tossed my blades into a cart like garden tools, we were going to have a very different conversation.

Alex stopped beside the sofa. "That's it?"

I looked up.

He was looking at my things.

"Yes."

He waited.

I waited.

One of us was missing something.

Alex pointed at the duffel, then the case. "That's everything?"

"Yes."

Nykos came in behind him and looked down at the two bags, then at me. Something moved across his face, not quite a frown, close enough that I disliked it on sight.

"What?"

Alex looked at Corian as if this required backup. "Where's the rest of your stuff?"

"Rest?"

"Your things."

I looked back at the bag. "Those are my things."

Another silence. They had too many of those.

Alex rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. I get that those are things. I'm asking where the other things are."

I straightened. "What other things?"

He opened his mouth, then seemed to realize he didn't know how to explain his own question.

Nykos rescued him, though Alex's face said he didn't appreciate it. "Clothes. Books. Personal things."

"My clothes are in there."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

Alex looked horrified for reasons I couldn't work out.

I frowned at the duffel. "There's training gear, spare boots, field armor, everything I need for deployment. What else would I own?"

Nobody answered right away. I looked between them.

Was I supposed to own a ceremonial wardrobe? Decorative blankets?

"I have toiletries," I added, in case that was the problem.