“I can’t think about a damn thing with both of you talking!” Drom slams a fist on the table hard enough to make it rattle. She takes a deep breath, jaw clenched, and jabs a finger in Shey’s direction. “Prissy Gaian lady. Walk me through the plan if we do this your way.”

Shey’s eyes open, and she looks at Drom in shock. I have to admit I’m surprised as well. Of all of them, I wouldn’t have expected her to try to approach this from a reasonable viewpoint rather than let her emotions rule her.

“As Leonis’s daughter and a public figure in my own right, I have enough political pull to secure a hearing with the Nibiran Council,” Shey says, gazing at Drom with hesitant, rekindled hope. “Once there, I can explain the situation on Gaia and beg for refuge. I expect they’ll want something in return, and I’m sure Gaia will be willing to give up anything for a peaceful solution. Once we reach an agreement, I will contact my mother to make it official.”

“And you’re sure your mother will agree?” I ask. As much as I want to remain impartial, that part of the plan is difficult for me to believe, and we have to think of Pol’s safety. But Shey nods, her face full of complete confidence.

“My mother is only doing this because she believes there’s no other way. If there’s a peaceful alternative, she’ll take it.”

“You think she’ll take it,” Lyre says. “And that’s assuming that the Nibirans will agree to the plan in the first place.”

“You really believe they would turn away someone in need?” Shey asks. Her voice is full of honest confusion—but I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. My other siblings laugh as well, except for Corvus, who grimaces and shakes his head. Shey looks around at us, bewildered by the response.

“Your own planet isn’t exactly kind to people in need,” I explain to her, once I manage to stop my laughter. “Especially outsiders.”

Shey’s cheeks flush at my response, whether in guilt or embarrassment, but she doesn’t back down.

“I have faith they’ll make the right decision,” she says. “We’re human, just like them.”

“We can’t have a plan that hinges on faith,” Lyre says.

“Should we have left Pol for dead then?” Corvus asks. Lyre glares at him, two pinpricks of red rising in her cheeks.

“Of course not!”