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It makes me wonder why he’d bother coming to this disgusting Toad mothership, or risk execution by his own people, all for the sake of purchasing slaves.

Quint suddenly stiffens, snapping me from my thoughts. It’s as if he detected something my human eyes and ears are oblivious to. Maybe he did…

Maybe these living quarters on this Toad ship aren’t so safe, after all.

Tessa is oblivious to my concerns. She pulls out a chair and sits beside me. She’s taller than me by at least six inches, so she doesn’t struggle to look over the table quite as badly as I do. Even in her makeshift toga – made from that bedsheet, with her hair mussed and tussled – she somehow manages to look elegant and wild. Tessa is an effortless, feral beauty – very different to the sweaty mess I feel like sitting beside her. What makes it worse is that I had an ice-cold shower not ten minutes earlier; and already I can feel the sweat beading on my brow again.

There’s something very unusual about Tessa – something she’s clearly keeping a closely guarded secret. She knows how to swim, for example – a skill which isn’t taught to ninety-nine percent of humans, as it’s not that useful a skill on industrial or desert worlds, where swimming in clean water is an indulgence reserved only for the wealthy.

More than that… There’s a regal air to her. Tessa and I told each other we wouldn’t talk about our past – but the longer I spend with her, the more I’m suspecting Tessa came from money; which makes her presence aboard the Elnor transport ship that much more mysterious.

My thoughts are the loudest sound in the room. In fact, there’s dead silence otherwise – except for the Aurelians chomping away on their huge forkfuls of bloody meat.

Tessa takes a few experimental bites from my heaping plate, and sighs contentedly as she chews.

“I’ve gotta know,” she finally asks, feigning indifference to their answer the same way she feigned cheerfulness earlier. “You three don’t seem like Rogue Aurelians to me. Why the hell are you on a Toad mothership in the first place?”

Wrong question.

The mood around the dining table instantly darkens.

The Aurelians stop eating. Their mouths are full of half-chewed food, and their forks and knives are paused mid-action as they wait, turning their attention to Marcel.

Even more seriously than before, the leader of the Aurelians narrows his eyes and murmurs:

“We’re not here by choice.”

Of course! They answer her! While all I get is flippant little jokes and lingering glances.

“We took a job,” Marcel continues. “Shipping for Aurelian Priests. I don’t know how much you know about politics, but there’s tension between the Elites of the Empire and the Order of Priests.”

That’s an understatement.

Ling told me all about the resurgence of the Old Ways. More and more Aurelians were objecting to being ruled by a human female, Queen Jasmine, and their resentment was rapidly transforming into something that approached open rebellion.

“Shipping?” I stare at Marcel, wondering if he’s told this lie so many times, he’s actually started to believe it. “Is that a more pleasant word for smuggling?”

The Aurelians pause, forks in hand. Each of them stares at me, practically open-mouthed.

“Oh, c’mon, Everybody and their womp-rat knows about the tension between the Priesthood and the Aurelian Empire. It’s pretty fucking hard not to when the news-comms are broadcasting holovids of Priests actually calling for “a return to the Old Ways.”

Marcel blinks. His eyes harden as he stares at me. He was so gentle when he tended to my headwound last night – so much so that he didn’t even wake me up. But looking into his slate-grey eyes now, I realize there’s no kindness left in them. Not after what I’d just said.

Finally, he speaks.

“You don’t know what you speak of, Jamie.”

I’m intimidated, I’m not going to lie – but I nevertheless scowl defiantly.

“I know what I bloody wellspeak of! Everyone knows it! The Priests believe in the Old Ways, and if you’re working for them – smugglingsomethingbetween the Priesthood and the Toads – it means you’re Rogue, through and through.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air – but I don’t pause.

“The Toads are the Aurelian Empires greatest enemies – and you’re working with them! The Priesthood are practically ready for open revolution, and you’re smuggling things for them. Possibly things from dozens of rebel factions within the Empire.”

When they still fail to respond, I add: “You bought us at a fuckingslave auction!Don’t you pretend you’re not one of them; no matter how much you try to wriggle out of it!”

Quint suddenly slams his fist down on the table, shaking our plates and making me jump. The rest of my tirade dies instantly in my mouth. I realize I’ve said too much. There’s now dead, uncomfortable silence...