A chill runs up my spine as my mind conjures an image of some alien bio-weapon eating its bloody way through enemy ranks. Part of me hopes that Momma is bluffing, or at least exaggerating. I try to tell myself that it’s just if it’s only used on our enemies, that it could save people like Magda and the rest of my team… but I can’t bring myself to believe it. Something about this feels wrong. And since when does Momma deal this kind of product? How did she manage to get her hands on such a powerful alien weapon?

The conversation drops to hushed tones. Though I try to follow it, my attention is drawn away as I notice Scorpia fidgeting in her seat beside me. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, taps a finger on the armrest, scratches her arm. Her eyes roam the room, never staying in one place for more than a couple of seconds. I shift in my seat. Every time I try to home in on the conversation between Momma and the general again, my attention is snatched away by Scorpia’s squirming.

I know my sister is naturally restless, but if Altair notices her doing this, he could take it as a sign of anxiety, and anxiety as a sign of guilt. If he has any reason to suspect we’re lying to him, this could go downhill very quickly. I know how Altair deals with potential threats: swiftly and ruthlessly. My status as a veteran won’t grant us much protection.

“Stop fidgeting,” I murmur, keeping an eye on the general to make sure he can’t hear me. “You’re going to make him nervous.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” Scorpia says, chewing on a nail. I rip my eyes off the general to give her a look.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

Scorpia bites down on her middle finger and lowers the rest of them, turning so the gesture is hidden from the negotiations. She’s always been difficult, but this behavior is getting under my skin in a way it didn’t before.

“I see you still haven’t grown up over the last three years.”

“Is that what happened to you?” she asks. “Thank the stars I haven’t, then. It seems miserable.”

“I grew up a long time ago. One of us had to.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. Poor Corvus, must’ve been so hard being Momma’s favorite.”