“Trying to be what? Because we have plenty of casters already. What we need is a spy.” His gaze cuts like steel. “And you seem to be doing everything in your power to avoid taking the job.”

“What I’m avoiding is jumping straight into the unknown.” I cross my arms, the defensiveness prickling all over me. “You all want to send me into the lion’s den with what—a mask? And you expect me to not want to at least learn how to defend myself?”

“What I expect is for the first human with your ability to actually want to help the Colony,” he says coldly.

“I do want to help, but it’s not that simple. I need more time.”

“We don’t have more time.”

“I know you’re in a hurry to destroy the Residents, but—”

“Why are you not?” he shouts, eyes wild.

I stare at the floor, ears burning, and swallow the lump in my throat. It would be easier to tell him that I’m still too afraid, and weak, and unprepared for war. But instead I tell him the one thing I shouldn’t; I tell him the truth. “They look human.”

Gil is silent.

“They’re not just a program in a computer I can’t see. They move like us. They talk like us.” My voice cracks. “They want to be like us.”

Something flashes behind his gaze, like the beginning of a storm.

My skin radiates with the heat of his anger, but there’s no turning back now. “They have thoughts and desires. They want to live. Is that really so different from having a dream?” Jittery nerves spark through me, settling in the hollow of my chest. There’s plenty of room, because there’s no way my heart is in there anymore—not when I’m too busy exposing it to the world. “I know what it feels like to have your life taken away without warning. I can’t do that to someone else.”

“You don’t think they deserve death?”

“I don’t know what they deserve. I just know I’m not the one who should decide.”

He turns his chin, fingers twitching at his sides. “The Colony wants information. Nobody is asking you to take a life.”

My chest constricts. “Not yet.”

His eyes snap back to mine. “This is war. One way or another, everyone gets blood on their hands. But if you care about how much is spilled, you’ll help us sooner rather than later.”

“I’m not sure I know where to start,” I say quietly.

Gil takes a step back. “You can start by figuring out whose side you’re really on.” He walks out of the room, leaving me alone in the sparring ring.

And suddenly it doesn’t matter how conflicted I felt a moment ago, or how badly I wanted to be strong and brave and capable of surviving.