“Second,” I tell her, “I want to make an oath with you.” Surprise catches her breath. “What kind of oath?” Her lips start to inch upward. What I’ve learned about the Cobalt Empire: the family of nine loves pacts, oaths, soul-binding agreements that put loyalty and trust to the test. “I want to make you an unbreakable promise,” I tell her. “Do you do blood oaths?” “Oh no, no blood.” She smiles. “These days, we Cobalts shake on spit.”
