Such as killing Leonis. The moment the thought occurs to me, it feels right. Even if the world doesn’t know what she did, I can make her suffer for it. If I can get close enough, it will be simple. It’s what I’m good at. What I’ve been trained to do. Afterward I’ll be imprisoned or killed myself, of course, but a death to avenge my people wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. And my family doesn’t need me anymore; they have Scorpia now.

“So sad,” Eridanus says, tugging on his beard and dragging my thoughts back to the bar. “With Titan off the market, we may have to reconsider our profession.”

“Not if this ends in war,” Halon says. Catching my glance, he hastily adds, “Not that I would ever hope for such a thing. God forbid.” He shudders. “Things are looking quite bleak, though. Did you see how quickly they went for one another’s throats? And on an interplanetary broadcast, no less.”

Their conversation shifts into lowered tones, and I turn to my sisters. Lyre is standing with her arms folded over her chest, and Drom is nursing a beer in silence.

“We need to get out of here,” I say. “Before—” Before I do something stupid. “Before the representatives head back to their ships. Maybe we can catch Leonis on her way there.” And make her pay, regardless of what Scorpia wants. My brow furrows as I realize I don’t see her anywhere. I crane my neck to look at the bar.

“Looks like Scorpia is a couple steps ahead of you,” Lyre says.

“What?” My head snaps back toward her.

“She left right after the meeting started. Without a word.” She looks none too pleased about that. I’m not sure what she expected when she started supporting Scorpia.

“I was focused on the broadcast. Isn’t that why we came here?” I let out a frustrated sigh. Leave it to Scorpia to wander astray from her own plan… Unless she’s already moving forward without us. My chest tightens. I need to stop her. “So where the hell did she go?”

“She seemed stressed out,” Drom offers. “Maybe she went to sample the wares.”

“What wares?”

My sisters exchange a look.

“She’s talking about prostitutes,” Lyre says. Seeing the look on my face, she adds more defensively, “Perfectly legal here. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“There is when we have a very important, very time-sensitive purpose,” I say through gritted teeth. Time is running out. “Stop joking around.”

“You can be real Gaian about these things sometimes,” Drom says.

“Must be those Gaian sensibilities of yours,” Magda teases in my memory.

I lunge toward her without thinking, without considering what I plan to do. Lyre steps in between us and grabs my arm; Drom’s eyes go wide. The look on her face, more than Lyre’s grip, holds me in place.