Refreshment trays sprouted from the floor.

On my screen Orata exhaled happily and went back through the portal.

“What’s the schedule of the dates after the debate?” Kosandion asked.

“Oond of the oomboles, followed by the Donkamin candidate,” Resven said.

“Has it been announced?”

“No, Letero,” the chancellor said.

“Switch Oond with Ellenda,” Kosandion said.

“Yes, Letero.”

Sean was still down in the arena. I whispered into the mike. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm. “What’s up?”

I hesitated. This was kind of stupid. I could see him. He was right there. But we’ve been so busy these last few days. Normally we spent our time together. We weren’t glued at the hip, but we usually ate together. We did chores together. At night we settled into a comfortable room I made for us off our new joint bedroom, and we played video games or watched TV with Beast and Olasard.

We hadn’t been able to do any of that. I felt like I barely saw him, which was somehow worse than not having him here at all, like when he went on his excursions with Wilmos. I missed him but saying it out loud seemed too needy.

“Are you okay?”

“I miss you,” he said.

“I miss you, too.”

“Young love,” Gaston purred.

“Disgusting,” Tony said with mock derision. “If it wasn’t for the mission, I would mute you both.”

A trumpet-like sound pulsed through the arena, announcing the end of the break.

* * *

Surkar of the otrokars stared at Oond in his fishbowl. This was clearly not the opponent he would’ve preferred. Too bad for him. The orbs had been set up at random. Even I didn’t know which was which.

“Am I supposed to debate a fish?” he demanded.

“Xenophobia has never led anyone to a path of enlightenment,” the First Scholar told him.

Surkar raised his eyes to the sky briefly, as if inviting the sun to witness his tribulations. He was about to debate a space fish, and their discussion would be presided on by a space chicken. This was not a trial appropriate to his stature. His hero-of-the-Horde image was taking a bit of a beating, but throwing a fit about it would make him look like a fussy baby and he knew it.

“Ask your question,” he growled.

“What is best in life?” the First Scholar announced. “You have one hundred moments to consider.”

Oh, sweet Universe. “Sean, I know it was you,” I whispered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sean said.

“We just rewatched that movie a month ago.”

“Let’s see what he says.”

Surkar straightened his shoulders, as if he was going into battle on familiar ground and just noticed a gap in the enemy’s line.

“To crush your enemies,” Sean mumbled in a horrible imitation of an Austrian accent. “See them driven…”