It galled Surit to realize Tennalhin was enjoying his discomfort. He let out a slow breath to control his embarrassment and let his expression go entirely neutral. “I’m not really here to discuss uniform,” he said. “I was told I was sharing this cabin with a ranker code-named Fifty-Six.”

“Were you?” Tennalhin said.

Surit’s new-assignment nerves twinged as the ground of his own certainty cracked beneath his feet. This wasn’t a ranker. No ranker would be allowed to cram their cabin full of non-regulation furniture. And everything Surit knew of Orshan high society didn’t let him believe a relative of the legislator would join as a ranker. “I was told to expect a reader.”

Tennalhin gave him a smile with edges in it. “Oh, I’m the only reader on this ship.”

The spike of embarrassment hadn’t faded. Surit felt a deeper mortification stirring in him. His briefing had been wrong, and he had a suspicion as to why. He continued doggedly, “Were you ever code-named Fifty-Six?”

“You know,” Tennalhin said, “I don’t really remember.” The smile melted off his face as he took another step toward Surit in the cluttered cabin. Surit tensed and didn’t back up, even when Tennalhin rested a fingertip on his chest. “You’re supposed to be a regulator-approved architect, aren’t you? Write it out of me.”

“Please take your hand off me,” Surit said.

“Can’t do it?” Tennalhin said, an undertone of mockery to his voice. “Not strong enough?”

He’d had a warning. Surit took his wrist firmly and moved it aside. Tennalhin put up surprisingly little resistance. “Writing without consent is illegal.”

“So you know that,” Tennalhin said. Something in his eyes made Surit feel as if he’d avoided a trap by a razor-thin margin.

Surit said, very carefully, “Are you the agent I’m supposed to sync with?”

Tennalhin removed his wrist from Surit’s hand and stepped back. The smile he gave Surit this time was pure malice. “You’ve been misinformed,” he said. “I’m very sorry, Lieutenant Yeni. I’m a civilian, a nephew of the legislator, and I haven’t consented. If you make any move to sync with me, I’m afraid I have lawyers waiting to take you and your promising military career apart.”

Surit’s nagging suspicions coalesced into full, mortifying certainty. He’d been set up. Either the regulators had another goal here, one they hadn’t told him, or someone with connections wanted to take down the family of the traitor general. He might have avoided the obvious trap of writing a civilian, but he’d still landed in this mess. He’d been sent here to embarrass himself.