The doors to the mess hall creaked. Kyla entered, and Ariadne put on a bright smile. Focus on here. Now. Kyla, in real life, not filtered through codes and firewalls.

Kyla gave Ariadne a wan smile before approaching the larder. “Gods, everything is a mess.” She nodded to Clo. “Serve me up some of that, would you? Is there any hooch in these cabinets?”

Clo fixed Kyla up a plate and handed it to her. “Legates aren’t supposed to drink.”

“If you don’t think diplomats aren’t occasionally drunk, raving bastards, you’re more naive than I thought you were.”

Eris looked over as Kyla grabbed her food and sat across from Ariadne. “What are they saying at Nova?”

“Zelus’s official records said the ship and its crew were going to Paloma. The team at Nova is still trying to figure out if that’s bullshit or a lead,” Kyla said. “Nothing yet.”

“And the truce?”

Ariadne took her own plate. She dipped a fork into the rich, red-brown sauce and brought it to her lips, savoring the flavor. The Oracle thought of food as nutrition and cared little for variety of flavor. Ariadne had drunk the same three meals, at the same time each day, all her life. Kykeon—a boring gruel. No seasoning. No flavor. Enough to survive but not to thrive. The Oracle preferred it because Ariadne could drink kykeon while she coded.

The first sweets she’d ever had were the ones Rhea had given her when they’d escaped. Ariadne had cried. And then later, she was sick. Rhea had held her in the dona chamber on the ship, soothing her as she shook, hand on the back of her neck. She was still introducing new food slowly over the four days they’d been on Zelus. Her jaw often cramped as the muscles became accustomed to chewing. She’d bitten her tongue more times than she cared to admit. The digestion tablets couldn’t fully erase the discomfort and stomachaches.

But oh, the flavors. She had no idea what she was eating. But the chunks of meat had a firm texture, so different from the boring gloopy nutrient porridge she’d been raised on her whole life. Her tongue tingled with new sensations. There were little granules through the chunks, and more pieces of something a bit firmer and orange.

“Ariadne, are you listening?” Kyla asked.

Ariadne opened her eyes, startled. She shoved down her shame. Though the Oracle was more than aware of human physicality and understood the psychological advantages of food variety, Ariadne’s meals were still kykeon ninety-five percent of the time. The Oracle would give her treats only if she’d truly proven herself.