“How could you do this?” one of the matriarchs shouted above the din.

“We will not stand for a partnership with the empire!” cried one of the warriors. “They are our enemies.”

Panic was contagious. I felt it rising in my chest, twisting and growing, blackening the corners of my vision. It sent shivers through my blood, and my hands trembled on the sword where I’d clasped my fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

On the far side of the room, the Anaheran ministers sat calmly in their chairs, watching the chaos. They knew. They expected this. They wanted this. And on his bench, the high magistrate observed the unraveling of civility below, and the way his guards moved in like they might begin slaughtering government officials right here.

I looked at Aaru to find that he’d broken his post and was coming toward me. Other guards were moving around, so he didn’t stand out, except for the fact that he wasn’t threatening senators or matriarchs.

::Calming pills?:: he asked.

I shook my head—they were in the hotel room, safe with all our belongings—but he was right. The panic attack was coming, and all the counting in the world wouldn’t stop it. And if I had a meltdown here and now, everyone would know I wasn’t a guard. My scar wouldn’t be able to hide me.

I did the only thing I could.

I touched the noorestones.

Fifty of them.

Light flickered, and the room filled with a new height of noise, but inside my chest, the tangle of panic eased. My hands stilled. My heartbeat steadied. All it took was a light touch, like a reassuring brush of fingertips against a comforting blanket.

Aaru took my elbow. ::What did you do?::

I shook my head. “Not now.” Beyond him, I could see Nine coming toward us, determination in her expression.

As the general panic reached new heights, Paorah raised his voice for the first time. “Sit!” He slammed his palm on the bench, loud enough to be heard over the chaos. “Everyone sit and be quiet, or my guards will make you quiet.”

Half the guards raised their swords, the metal blades gleaming wickedly in the noorestone light.

Everyone drew a breath at the same time, or so it seemed. People looked at one another, stricken expressions marring their faces, and one at a time, they began to sit. Their protests died. The knifelike curses were swallowed back.

“Thank you.” Paorah hadn’t risen from his seat, and even now, he stayed where he was. A veil of calm fell over him. “Now, shouting and swearing has done you no good. Try listening for once.”

“You’re out of your mind,” said one of the senators. “We will not join the empire. We will not lower ourselves to become another territory.”

Paorah sighed, and he nodded toward the nearest guard.

Without warning, the guard slit open the senator’s throat.

Blood sprayed.

People jumped away.

The senator slumped over the desk. Dead.

But no one dared speak. Not even a shout or a cry. Nothing.