Tennal hadn’t been expecting that, somehow, though he should have been. He stared down at her and remembered her on the opposition’s propaganda broadcasts, throwing herself into their aunt’s faction to try to stabilize things. He’d thought he was rescuing her. His little sister. But, of course, Zin was his sister. His aunt’s blood. A Halkana to the bone.

And Tennal thought, She grew up and I never saw.

“I was trying to get back to you,” Tennal said. “I got hung up. Sorry.”

There was a crash as someone finally got the study door fully open. First through it were two Cavalry soldiers, obviously Zin’s security. Behind them, Istara looked around the doorframe. “Cavalry division took the residence. I let your sister through. Basavi’s outside with—” Their eyes landed on Oma’s slumped form, followed by Surit on the ground. “Holy shit, sir.”

“I’m fine, Private,” Surit said. He shifted as more people flooded into the office and put out his hand for Tennal to help him up. Tennal took it. Surit put his entire weight on Tennal, as if there was no doubt Tennal could manage it. He braced his feet and did.

Zin whispered, “Leave this to me.” She tried to rearrange her hair as Tennal let go of her arm, and she went over to her security first, scattering reassurances and directing the soldiers to Oma’s body. The handful of rankers debated urgently over the corpse, looking over their shoulders.

Who they were waiting for became apparent a moment later, when Commander Vinys stepped through the doorway.

“Oh, wow,” Tennal said under his breath. “The cherry on the cake.”

The commander had caked blood and burned skin on the side of his temple and looked more furious than Tennal had ever seen him. Tennal could not summon any sympathy. “Secure the scene,” he snapped. Then he spotted Surit, and Tennal beside him, and if a look could have melted someone’s face off, this would have done it. “Lieutenant Yeni,” he said. “So glad your outright insubordination has brought you here. There will be a court-martial. If you would like to make things less bad for yourself—”

Surit looked at him and said, “We’re leaving.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m leaving,” Surit said patiently, “with Captain Halkana. If you want to stop us, please consider I’m a Rank One architect.”

Before the commander had time to shoot Surit or Tennal, Zin jumped in. “Commander Vinys,” she said, with the exact same certainty in her voice as she’d had in the propaganda broadcast, “Governor Oma seems to be dead. This is my childhood home. I need some air. I’m just going to step outside, and I’ll send you the Infantry and Pilot leads in a minute. Tennal and”—she hesitated—“Yeni, is it? Can I borrow you?”