“You don’t need to do that,” I said, gently pushing the box back toward him. “I accept your apology.”

Torran stiffened and his expression shuttered.

“Let me guess,” I said drily, “if I don’t accept the gift, it’s some sort of grave Valovian insult?”

Torran unbent enough for one corner of his mouth to tip up. “Essentially, yes. A rejected gift can mean many things. The most common is a rejection of the apology. Or it could mean that you feel insulted by the quality of the gift in relation to the offense, and that I should try again with something more dear.”

“What if it just means that I accept your apology, and you really don’t have to get me anything because I’m human, and we don’t expect apology gifts?”

“You can accept my apology by accepting the gift.”

I pressed my lips together. I was potentially about to make another mistake, but I’d thought about this last night after my talk with Eli. I hadn’t really said enough to get us in trouble with the Feds, but they could make our lives miserable without technically violating our contract.

I met Torran’s eyes. “If you want to give me an apology gift, then I will accept your promise that you will forget everything I told you last night, and that you won’t repeat it. If you do, or if you try to use it against me and mine, I will vigorously deny it.”

Torran frowned, a question in his eyes. Understanding dawned, and his eyes narrowed. “The FHP is hid—”

“General Fletcher, your promise, please,” I said, interrupting him before he could complete the thought.

I could see the struggle in his face. The muscle along his jaw flexed as he tried to find a way around it.

I prodded at his honor. “Unless, of course, you are not truly sorry,” I said with a carefully careless shrug.

“One question first,” he demanded. When I warily nodded, he asked, “Did you really call off the attack once you knew there were civilians inside?”

Now it was my turn to struggle. That question would lead to a dozen more, each of them digging deeper into an event that needed to remain buried. My squad’s freedom rested on my ability to sell the lie that was the Fed’s account of the battle on Rodeni. If there was even a hint that I planned to reveal the truth, they would lock us up and lose the key.

Already, my silence had betrayed me. I had to do damage control.