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“What?” she asked, confused.

“We’re in the Billiard Room. . .”

Lost, Atta blinked at him.

“The film. . .”

“Clue?” She screwed up her face. “Are you making aCluejoke right now?”

“Evidently, it didn’t land.”

“I thought you didn’t watch movies.”

“I never said that.” He shook his head. “Never mind. What is Vasilios’s assistant doing here?”

“I don’t know. She said Gibbs was acting strange, so she followed him here.”

“Right. Well, first things first. My phone call was Lynch.”

Atta’s heart climbed into her throat.

“He saw the newspaper and the international story.”

“Oh fuck.”

“The Agamemnon Council and the Trinity Administration would like to hold a private hearing for each of us.”

“Please tell me why you’re so calm,” she demanded, angry that he wasn’t sweating or crying or throwing up like she was about to.

“Because there’s no sense in hiding who we are now, and there’s nothing they can do to us.”

“Nothing they can do to us? Sonder, that’s insane. There is so much they could do to us.”

“Not true.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently rubbed up and down her arms. “They want the glory. They chose a hearing because it won’t involve the Garda and they won’t try to stop us. All they want is to try and get us to be their face—give the Society and Trinity the honour of looking like they finally cured the Plague.”

“I don’t understand how that’s good.” She didn’t mean for her words to come out so sharply, but she couldn’t quite help it, either.

“If we can get in their ear, they might let you back into Trinity.”

Atta broke away from him. “I told you I don’t care about that.”

“Atta—”

“No. We have more important things to worry about right now.” She started pacing, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “We need to train help. We need Gibbs and Vasilios as boots on the ground.” An idea struck her and she stopped. “Emmy is Marguerite’s TA and my friend. Maybe even she could help.”

But she could tell by Sonder’s face that he hadn’t jumped subjects like she had. “Atta, I’m not saying we have to side with the Society or play their games, I’m only saying?—”

“We can talk about that later,” Atta snapped firmly. She knew her age was showing, her idyllic, naïve mindset, but she didn’t care. They didn’t need goddamn Agamemnon. They were fucking Achilles.

Sonder sighed but nodded, clasping his hands together in front of him and sitting on the edge of the billiard table. “Gibbs and Marguerite I can get behind. I don’t know Emmy.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “Then come get to know her.”

Atta

Emmy blinked at them where they all sat around a table in the library. “Maybe if you explain it one more time. . .”

Gibbs groaned.