“How nice of you to join us,” Magda says, her pale, sharp face pinching. As usual, her tone has a bite to it. And—as usual—the sound of it warms me anyway. She tosses a lock of long brown hair over her shoulder and leans away from Daniil. She’s our newest other than Ivennie, and the closest to my own age, since she legally delayed her mandatory service to have children—the one reason Titans respect. She’s also been making trouble, mostly for me, ever since she arrived. She’s always prodding at me, distracting me, chipping away at the wall I maintain between myself and my team. Months ago I decided it would be best to find an excuse to reassign her, and yet I keep finding reasons not to.

I’m really not in the mood to deal with her and Daniil jostling one another to get my attention. Despite the words I parroted to Ivennie earlier, Titan relations are… quite a bit more complicated than familial feelings, and I still have trouble navigating them. The three stifling weeks at this outpost have been particularly bad, especially after the loss of Uwe and the arrival of the new recruit. I avoid eye contact with any of my soldiers as I head to the food they’ve collected on the end of the table. Since there clearly isn’t a pressing issue, I might as well eat.

“One of you should be on patrol,” I say, heaping steaming rice into a bowl and dropping a few gelatinous protein cubes on top. Once they begin to melt, I crumble freeze-dried algae over the top. Sverre taught us all this method of using the army’s stock rations. The others all raved like it was the best meal they’d ever had, but none of them have ever tasted Nibiran fish, or fresh Devan fruit, or even Gaia’s simple but artfully arranged cuisine. Here, even when I’m full, I never feel fully satisfied.

“It’s still early,” Magda says. “It’s not time for the daily stroll for another fifteen minutes.”

She smiles. Already trying to get a rise out of me, as if I haven’t given enough lectures on the importance of staying on guard out here.

“So what’s the problem, then?” I ask, trying not to let her get under my skin. She’ll only enjoy it. She tilts her head, as if not understanding, so I add, “Ivennie said you were looking for me.”

“Oh, yes.” Magda’s voice takes on a fake note of sweetness. “We were merely wondering if there was any word from the old bear.”

Meaning they wanted to bother me into coming to spend time with them, and Ivennie is too new to say no. I suppress a sigh as I sit on the bench across from the others, stirring my food into an unappetizing brown mush before taking a bite. At least it’s warm.