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Felix disappeared onto the terrace, the heavy curtains falling back into place, sealing him out.

Anatol was laughing at something one of his defenders said, looking satisfied, and I ran the sequence back like game footage. He had a hook in Felix, I had known that before, but tonight I had watched him twist it. I stood up.

“Sit down, Regillen,” Tegula commanded without looking up. “You haven’t finished your meal.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

I walked away before he could stop me, weaving through the tables, ignoring the stares of the Generals and the donors, pulling my tie loose as I went.

I didn’t know what game they were playing, but I was tired of not knowing the rules. I was going to get the truth out of Felix, even if I had to shake it out of him.

CHAPTER 20

FELIX

I couldn’t breathe.

The vest of the tuxedo crushed my ribs like something fitted for the purpose, and I tugged at the collar, gasping, trying to force oxygen into lungs that refused to expand.

The air on the terrace was frigid. I gripped the stone balustrade and let the cold bite into my palms. Below, the city sprawled in a grid of amber streetlights and darkness, indifferent to the panic clawing at my throat.

Anatol knew I was breaking. He had sat there nursing his wine, one finger tapping against his nose.

And Leander. The memory of the table came back in the wrong order: his thigh a solid line of heat where I had pressed mine against it, then the six cold inches when he took the heat away. He stood up for me. He challenged a Breeding Commissioner and insulted the Director to protect me.

He thought he was being brave. He didn’t understand that he was just painting a larger target on his back.

“You run fast for a guy in dress shoes.”

Leander’s voice came from the shadows near the door. The light from the banquet hall spilled out behind him, outlining the broad set of his shoulders. He had undone his tie, the silk strip hanging loose around his neck, the costume already half-abandoned now that no one was grading him on it.

“Go back inside,” I rasped. “If Tegula sees you out here⁠—”

“Tegula can fucking rot,” Leander said, stepping into the cold. “I want to know what’s going on, Felix. And don’t give me that ‘Captain’ bullshit. I saw your face.”

He walked toward me, and I couldn’t look away. He wore the hell out of that suit. The dark fabric clung to him, turning all that street-bred aggression into something terrifyingly attractive, a storm wrapped in midnight blue silk, and it was obscene that my body chose this exact moment to notice.

“What does Getha have on you?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” He crowded me against the balustrade, forcing me to tilt my head to hold his gaze. “He looked at you, and you fell apart. Is he threatening you?”

“It’s complicated,” I whispered, and turned back to the city view, because I couldn’t look at him. If I looked at him, I might tell him. All of it, and the truth had a body count attached.

“Make it simple.” Leander grabbed my arm and spun me back around, his grip bruising through the layers of fabric. “Did you steal the gel for me? Did you break into the med-lockers?”

“No,” I whispered. “It was mine.”

Leander froze. “What?”

“It was my personal emergency kit,” I admitted. “Tegula gave me one vial. Just one. For catastrophic injury.”

Leander’s eyes widened, shock cracking the anger.

“You used your own ration,” he breathed. “You gave me your only backup? If you get hurt now⁠—”

“I won’t get hurt,” I lied. Lies about my own durability were the oldest items in my repertoire.