Cyra opened the bathroom door to let out the steam, and pulled her hair over one shoulder. She was dressed, this time in dark training clothes. “What is it?” she asked. She followed his gaze to the screen. “Oh, you—you saw her?” “I think so,” Akos replied. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you try to avoid feeling homesick.” Homesick was the wrong word. Lost was the right one—lost out in the nothingness, among people he didn’t understand, with no hope of getting his brother home except murdering Suzao Kuzar as soon as it was legal again. Instead of telling her all that, he said, “How do you know
...more
