“Was it corrupt to save your life?”

Lexi ignores that, not even wanting to entertain the possibility that there’s truth in those words.

Instead, she asks, “Why this masquerade, Daian?”

“We were both looking for the same thing, at least at first. We share a common enemy. The Protectorate Ministry. We both wanted leverage to use against them, to expose them. I suspected they sent Savages to kill you, but I couldn’t be sure. We don’t know much about the Savages, you see. Aegins simply round up candidates and pack them off to… wherever. Aegins aren’t privy to the Ministry’s machinations. We’re simply their occasional lapdogs. I hoped to be able to turn up some evidence, even if it was just a body, some solid proof of who the assassins were and who sent them. It would have helped us to help you shine a light on them in open session at the Spectrum, in front of all your new dreg friends. Not to mention if we could turn up Brio or his evidence that would have been an equal boon. Unfortunately I fear news of my poking around on the matter made it back to them. I’m certain they tasked the Aegins you met in the dojo with eliminating me.”

“Then I suppose I saved your life, too,” Lexi says, the irony dripping from every word.

“You sheltered and healed me, and I thank you.”

“And I’m sorry your investigation failed.”

Daian shrugs. “It’s moot now. We’re moving on.”

“Who is moving on? To what? Who are these mysterious benefactors of yours who seem to have such a deep-seated issue with the Crachian governance?”

A smaller figure emerges behind him, one draped in brightly shining colored robes of the purest silk. Its embellishments appear to Lexi to be real gold and silver. Such opulence almost stops her from immediately recognizing Councilwoman Burr. Even the woman’s mousey hair, usually brushed and bound straight back, has been made-up elaborately in multiple braids. Her face is painted in tones of bone white, night blue, and crimson red. Her styling is much like the room around them; it is from a time that no longer exists.

Burr smiles welcomingly at Lexi, seeming far warmer than she ever did at the top of those steps in the Gen Franchise Council chambers.

“Welcome to my ancestral home, Lady Xia of House Stalbraid.”

Even the form of greeting and the title she invokes is archaic, recalling a long-forgotten time of “lords” and “ladies” who presided over noble “houses.”