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“You killed them?” Calla’s mate asked.

I shook my head. “I didn’t kill N’vera, but I know who did. I promise I will tell you every last detail you want to know. But I swear on my life that I would die before I let anyone know where you are, Calla.”

“I give my oath as well,” Jarrix said. To my surprise—and Calla’s—he went to one knee on the muddy ground, his gaze fixed on hers. “I am Jarrix To’vok, formerly of the GAIS. I am now your sister’s bonded mate, and I will defend you as I defend her.”

Calla’s mate didn’t relax one iota, but my sister’s lips twitched as she patted one of his tentacles. “Fortusian males are notoriously protective,” she said to me. “I’d say I was surprised to see you chose one as a mate, but since I did too…” When her mate didn’t let go, she lightly pinched the tentacle around her waist. “Vos, it’s all right. It’s my sister.”

With obvious reluctance, Vos unwrapped all his tentacles but the one on her waist. “I am Vos Turek,” he said, looking back and forth between Jarrix and me. “Retired member of the Silent Guard.” It was unmistakably both an introduction and a warning.

Through our bond, I sensed Jarrix’s shock and wariness, as well as his respect. And judging by Calla’s smirk, I was sure my eyes had just gone comically wide.

The Silent Guard, which was headquartered on Fortusia, was a league of genetically engineered assassins trained almost from birth to be the deadliest killers and private soldiers in the galaxy. Very few survived their requisite twenty years of service to reach retirement—even fewer than the number of child gladiators on Ganai who’d made it to sixteen and freedom.

Vos didn’t need to tell us he’d shred anything that posed a danger to Calla. That promise was as plain to see as his tentacles and the dark stare he leveled at Jarrix and me. It was the same promise I saw in Jarrix’s eyes whenever I was in danger.

“This is Poe,” Calla said, gesturing at their shelled guardian, who was watching us every bit as intently as Vos. “She’s an Anomuran, a native species of Iosa. Highly intelligent, but with a very limited vocabulary.” She smiled at Zwee. “Who do you have with you?”

“This is our gorga, Zwee,” I said. Zwee tilted her antennae forward and flashed her serrated teeth. “Gorgas are native to the Wundi homeworld. She’s a recent addition to the crew but has already earned her keep.”

Zwee and Poe exchanged trills and warbles. I had no idea if they could understand a word each other said, but their tones seemed friendly.

Calla and I looked each other over as if neither of us yet believed we were here, together, on the same moon. Her gaze held wonder and a million unspoken questions. I imagined mine looked the same.

Jarrix and Vos seemed to be having an unspoken conversation of their own that included warily taking each other’s measure and evaluating the weapons they carried as well as their genetically engineered bodies.

Finally, I couldn’t remain still any longer and took a tentative step forward. “Calla…?”

She patted Vos’s tentacle again reassuringly, unwound it from around her waist, and took a step too.

And then we were running.

We crashed into each other hard enough that the breath left both our lungs with audible grunts. But it didn’t matter because I was holding my sister in my arms. She squeezed me so fiercely that I thought my ribs might crack but I didn’t care.

Somehow we ended up sitting on the soggy ground, sobbing against each other’s chests while Jarrix and Vos watched over us. Vos’s tentacles touched Calla’s shoulders and arms, offering quiet reassurance, while Jarrix’s tail coiled around my calf to do the same.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasped finally, moving so I could see Calla’s tear-streaked face. The rain had turned to a mist while we’d been holding onto each other. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make Marcila take care of you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from Orqiel and the arena. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Calla cradled my head to her chest and stroked my back as if she were the older sister. “Don’t apologize. Please, please don’t. There was nothing you could have done. And none of it was your fault. Do you hear me? None of it.” She shook me gently. “I can’t stand to think you’ve blamed yourself all these years.” Her voice grew hard and cold. “The only people at fault were our mother and Orqiel and the rest of them who ran the arenas. And they’re all dead now.”

I jerked in her arms and drew back. “Marcila is dead?”

“Yes.” Her mouth compressed into a grim line. “When I got my freedom, the first place I went was back to the town where we were born. I wanted to confront her, maybe get some kind of revenge. But she was already dead. I found out she’d died in a transport accident several years earlier.”

I felt nothing at the news. No grief, no anger, not even satisfaction. Like Orqiel before we’d found out he was behind the bounty, Marcila had already been dead to me.

I was suddenly keenly aware of the weight of the news I carried, and of the orb and datachip in my pack. Part of me wanted to just throw them into the ocean and try to forget, but Calla deserved to have a say in what we did with our legacy.

Knowing I wasn’t alone in making that choice healed something in my heart I hadn’t realized had been damaged.

My eyes felt gritty. I rubbed my face, not caring about how dirty my hands were after our trek through the swamp and sitting on the ground for however long Calla and I had been holding each other.

Thunder rumbled, and a light rain began to fall.

“Let’s go inside,” Calla said, getting to her feet. She held out both hands for me to grab and hauled me to my feet. We were both muddy, but I don’t think she cared any more than I did. “Where’s your ship?” she asked.

“We left it at an abandoned raider base a few kilometers from here,” I said. “It looks like a battle happened there. You know anything about that?”

Calla and Vos exchanged a glance. For the first time since we’d arrived, the corners of Vos’s lips turned up.