Sol took a long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t even know where they are.” He put the cigarette out on the railing, then flicked it in the trash. “In some ways, their situation is even more dire than the rest of them. At least Esperas can escape if he wants since he still has Brako. Andy and June are helpless.”

“Are they okay?”

“I honestly don”t know.”

“They took it on good faith that we’d treat them as people, and now look what’s happening.”

“Well, you’d better do a good job tomorrow, or things might get a lot worse for them.”

Cora looked down to the ground level to see Brigadier General Porter marching through a flock of reporters, dressed in full uniform.

“That’s a lot of . . . medals,” she remarked.

“Don’t get excited. Porter’s not exactly on our side.”

Heat flared under her skin, and she was only glad she wasn’t testifying on the same day he was. “Not surprised. What’s he here for?”

“He’s here to discuss offensive capabilities he’s seen. Because someone had to make a big show about not wanting to go to Temecula.”

Oh, he means the broken-glass stunt during that meeting six hundred years ago. Of course, Porter had been dying to weaponize that since the day it happened. Good for him that Congress gave him the opportunity.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” asked Sol.

Such a strange word, even after several weeks of using it, even after functionally moving into his New York apartment. “He’s talking to the press.”

“How’s that going?”

“It’s going well,” she said, defenses on the rise. “He’s been good for me.”

“I bet.” He smirked. “How many strings did he pull to get you into Columbia?”

“Would it kill you not to be a complete douchebag for ten minutes?”

He looked at her, and for a moment, he was the old Sol, the man abusing his power wearing an expression that said, I am going to make your life hell. Then, his features relaxed. “You know it’s because I’m just jealous.”

“Of Kaveh?” she asked, smacked by the sudden and confusing implication.

“Both of you in some ways. I didn’t get into Columbia. Speak of the devil.”

Cora turned around to see Kaveh approaching, Kaveh and Senator Cohen, the senator who had decided to champion their cause. She’d spent a lot of time with his staffers in the last couple of days, but she hadn’t met the man himself.

“Miss Sabino,” he said, taking her hand in a firm handshake. He looked to be in his late fifties, a guy with a memorable, quirky face and curly graying hair. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”