Page 101 of Border Control

His eyes widen like I'm the one who came back from the dead in a miracle, but then he goes limp. I cry out, but his chest rises and falls. The quiet along the bond has a reassuring warmth on his side. He's only lost consciousness, not… gone forever.

The All-Mother rises, her gaze locked on Samara. If there was warmth in her face before, now there's a flash of grief, quickly replaced with a cool smile. “Samara. How nice of you to come down, but this is my ship, and I can deal with the visitors.”

“Your ship has been transporting too many exiles and aliens around our airspace,” Samara replies, golden scales hardening. It's an advantage their native language is so guttural; she's biting off every word. “What are you up to, Shara?”

“Certainly not breaking any laws, Prif. I thank you for the concern, but I can assist these visitors. You're needed elsewhere, no doubt, and I'd hate to waste your valuable time.”

Samara barely looks at Dom. “Not breaking any laws? He identified as an exile. Any exiles who dare to return are not just breaking the law, they're mocking it.”

Shara's cool gaze briefly sweeps to me. “That may be, but they must have a good reason for returning.”

Both women turn to me, and side by side they're fire and ice, Samara's sultry anger against Shara’s cool calm. I get the feelingboth will latch onto and twist what I'm about to say for their own ends, and I don't know either of their agendas.

I have to take charge, get this situation under my control.

I begin, “We're aware Dom's return is unwelcome, but it's not unprecedented. We've encountered an issue and want advice and guidance from Oloria to come to a solution.”

Samara's jaw ticks. “What issue?”

I squeeze Dom’s limp hand. “I got tangled in the mind-sync, and now I'm stuck.”

Shara's cool demeanor slips, a gasp escaping her lips. She looks between us as if she can see the mental connection.

The Parthiastocks glance at each other. Do they understand?

Samara blinks, as if she expected another answer. “Then simply shoot him and be done.”

“No, this is fascinating,” Shara exclaims. “We have to study their connection and?—”

Samara scowls. “Enough with your ridiculous pseudoscience. You're not using that excuse again to get another clone off his sentence.”

Samara’s tone is the big sister of the one I take with Arabella sometimes, when her never ending chattering gets a bit much for me. Samara is Totally Done With Shara's Shit.

“Is it a just punishment?” I ask.

Samara's icy gaze pierces through me, a faint sneer curling at the edge of her lips. Can she understand me?

She ignores me. "My laws are clear," she declares to the All-Mother, her voice as sharp and unyielding as a blade.

My heart might be racing, but I meet her gaze with every ounce of steel from my career. She won’t intimidate me.

“Yourlaws?” I echo.

Samara grimaces at me. She definitely understands me when I talk, she just doesn't want to answer.

“What law has he broken?” I demand, my voice steady and unrelenting.

“Returning from exile,” Samara says, like I'm stupid.

But I ask innocuous questions to lawyer people into a corner all the time.

My grip tightens, protective instinct flaring up inside me. “Was that a fair sentence?”

Samara scoffs. “More than fair. You humans must have such a strange culture.” Her gaze shifts. “Tell me more about it.”

I can use this. If she’s interested, that might buy me time, keep Dom safe.

“I’ll tell you general things, sure. As long as Dom isn’t harmed.”