“But if we’re going to join Brendol’s people, won’t everything be like this?” Siv held up a shirt so soft and fine that it felt like a light breeze would blow it away. Phasma shook her head. “I was born for that armor. We’ve seen how strong it is. Balder’s people didn’t even make a dent during the fight. Things like this”—she took the shirt from Siv and ripped it in half—“were never for me.”
