“Interesting,” I say. “Respect isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think of Strategia.”

Ash looks at me and it seems as though my comment bothers him. “I understand your reservations given your introduction to our society, but there is a lot about Strategia that you haven’t experienced. There are power plays and arrogance, certainly, but there are also selfless acts of bravery and loyalty.”

His reaction surprises me; a society that kills as frequently as Strategia do is not one I would praise. But I’m not sure that I want to debate that point right now, especially on the heels of what happened in the woods.

“The worst part about the current state of Strategia politics,” Ash continues when I don’t respond, “is that the Lions have enough resources and power to do a lot of good in the world. But Jag is selfish; he only takes on the missions that serve him politically.”

“Don’t all Strategia do what serves them politically?” I ask.

“Yes and no,” he says. “Yes, we care about power and influence, and yes, we will always choose to support our Family and our Family’s territory before others. But for a great deal of history we have been team players. We step in when other Families need us, we take on missions that support the greater good, and we compromise when we need to. Jag changed all that. He’s not a team player and he doesn’t care one bit about the greater good. And what’s worse is that he’s managed to divide us and pit allied Families against one another through fear and manipulation.”

For a moment we sit in silence. And when I don’t respond, Ash looks at me.

“It’s time, November,” he says.

“Time?” I say, but the instant I say the word I realize his meaning—the tin. I touch my coat pocket. “Yeah…I…are you hungry? Want me to go see if there are snacks in here somewhere?”

“No,” he says, and I turn away from him to the big expanse of sky. “We need to know what your father left you because it may very well affect where we land.”

I run my teeth over my bottom lip, discovering that it’s slightly chapped from the cold, dry air. “Right,” I say, not bothering to hide my reluctance.