Nyx’s clothes were better. They were practical, fit for a soldier: slim-cut trousers, boots, heavy buttoned jacket. It included all of her buttons, honors she had earned in battle. Eris ran her fingers along them, recognizing each one. This, for winning a major victory. This, for playing a major role in strategy. So many more.

Eris dressed as if she were preparing for a battle. In a way, she was. She was doing something the others on this ship wouldn’t be able to.

Eris tried to kill less than she used to, but she knew when to break her promise to Kyla and Sher. She was invaluable to the resistance for her previous life, but also because she did the horrible things no one else would.

She took the firewolf figurine out of her pocket and traced the smoothly carved lines of its face. “I can’t take you with me on this one, Xander,” she whispered. “I think you’d be disappointed in what I’ll have to do.”

With a sigh, she left the firewolf on the table.

When she walked out of her private quarters and back into the command center dressed as Zoe, a hush went through the room. Eris knew how she looked. She was showing just enough skin to make men ogle but not enough to make them uncomfortable. Beneath Rhea’s sheer, shimmering dress, she wore the undershirt from Nyx’s uniform. Because of their height difference, the undershirt served as a slip.

Using the shifter embedded in the roof of her mouth, Eris had transformed her face into Zoe. Her jaw was wider, her nose a little longer, and her eyes a bright blue. She looked like someone who had done her time in the battles of business and won.

Zoe was just another of Eris’s many masks.

She kept her makeup subtle. A mere hint of shading around her eyes and glitter at her cheeks. To men, it communicated: I care, but I’m not high-maintenance.

Every choice she made exuded the ideal woman that men thought they wanted. No matter how successful Zoe was, she was still in a cage crafted by men. Eris sometimes wished she had never killed Zoe and taken her identity.

“Uh,” Clo said, covering her face with her hands. “I feel very uncomfortable.”

“She means you look beautiful!” Ariadne offered. “Very glittery. Like you might seduce someone but also stab them in the neck.”

Clo scoffed. “Okay, that’s pretty accurate.”

Rhea lay a fingertip against her bottom lip. “The dress is bewitching, I know, but I’m glad I don’t have to wear it.” Her lips twisted, wryly. “I wasn’t allowed to choose what to wear for the Legate. Sheer isn’t really my color.”

Clo went very pink.

<You’re imagining her in the dress now, aren’t you?> Eris didn’t bother hiding her amusement.

Clo went even pinker.