The situation with Charon was bad enough that it ought to have necessitated a move to another planet—perhaps even outside the galaxy—were it not for the second problem: Macella had the most drinkable fresh water of any planet in the Tholosian Empire, fed from the mountains.

Even the Evoli desired the freshwater resources of Macella, which was no doubt why they agreed to the truce in the first place. The Tholosians could not leave such a precious resource vulnerable.

Clo knew Kyla had mulled over the possibility of interrupting the supply lines—with Charon’s resources all but gone, it would have been a decisive victory over the Empire—but the commander grappled with the morality of starving out civilians. It would make the resistance no better than their enemy. For now, all they could do was increase their numbers and prevent Imperial expansion as best they could.

With this weapon, Clo felt as if they were going against everything the Novantae had fought for.

Prince Damocles waited for them in the conference room. Through her Pathos, Clo heard Rhea swear; the other woman was watching the video feedback in the ship’s command center from the eye implant Ariadne had received from Kyla with the supplies.

<You all right, Rhea?> Clo asked.

<I’ll be fine,> Rhea said quietly. <Focus on the task. Don’t worry about me.>

The women all bowed to Damocles. Clo gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on the weapon case. It was light, perfectly built for speed in battle. Another feature Clo knew she would come to regret.

“General.” Eris fell back into Zoe’s slightly twangy Solarian accent. “It’s so good to see you again,” she said. “I notice your guests are still here. Hosting another ball?”

“It’s the same ball,” Damocles said. “It lasts five nights.”

“Five nights?” Eris rested a hand against the hollow of her throat. “I hope it’s not driving you to madness.”

“As you can see, my sanity remains intact.”

“And here I am, making more demands of your time.”

“I prefer discussing weaponry, I assure you.”

“So do I. Must be the pirate in me,” Eris said with a flirtatious smile.

Clo made the smallest sound in her throat, unwittingly drawing Damocles’s attention. The moment their eyes met, Clo sucked in a breath and meekly stared at the floor, trying to tamp down the memories of that face staring at her down the barrel of a Mors. She’d been barely more than a child, and he’d shot at her.

Gods, how she hated him.

Eris stepped in front of her, trailing her fingertips along the edge of the conference table, where a game of zatrikion sat half-completed. Sher was fond of the circular board game and had taught Clo how to play when she came to live at Nova. She was never able to capture his queen.