Cracks formed along him that he wasn’t making with his movements. He was careful to stay still and concentrate to let them knit together again. The back of his thumb wicked away the traces of yolk.

“All of us here were interacting with her on some level,” Faultline said.

“Contessa,” Egg said.

“Yep. Weld and Sveta were part of the raid.”

“Sensitive topic,” Sveta said, her voice soft.

“But you fought her. Sent people after her.”

“We worked around her,” Weld said. “I don’t think there’s a way to fight her and win. You throw up roadblocks and hope that the path she’s on goes places far from you.”

“He had a name,” Egg said. “Mantellum.”

“Yeah,” Weld said. He looked very tired, for someone who didn’t get tired.

“Did you want something?” Faultline asked.

I want a lot of things, but I don’t get them, Egg thought. I want to be here, and you want me gone, because I’m interrupting.

“What’s she bringing to the table?” he asked, indicating Slician.

“CYA,” Weld said. “Big meeting of people the staff isn’t familiar with, orchestrated in part by us. Slician is a known quantity, she tells them everything was aboveboard, they’ll listen.”

“It’s kind of fucked up you have to do that,” Egg said.

“I don’t know that we have to, but they’ve got enough things to worry about,” Weld said.

“Everyone does,” Faultline said.

“On the topic of Mantellum,” Weld said, his arms folded, producing a creaking metal sound as they flexed. “I know you were putting out feelers earlier, but there’s no guarantee that another Mantellum would even work, now that she’s a Titan. The built-in limitations are off.”

“Which still leaves options,” Faultline said. She glanced at Egg but she wasn’t going to push for him to leave if the others weren’t.

And Weld and Sveta couldn’t. Not after what they’d done.

The conversation continued. Egg had a hard time listening, as emotions stirred.

They were traitors. All of them. Faultline had stolen good capes away at the end of the world, working on infrastructure and backend, gambling they’d be ahead if everyone made it through Gold Morning. She had only been part of the final fight because she’d been forced to be. Gregor and Newter and those others had been the same, because she called the shots.

He didn’t blame them so much as he blamed her. She called the shots, she owned the shots. A team only worked if everyone was on the same wavelength, willing to follow the leader. Sveta and Weld had fucked things up by refusing to do that, by actively misleading, refusing to be on the same wavelength, and handing their entire community, now a third of what it had once been, the worst possible result.

No answer, no fix, no revenge.