“Us, is it? You and her, you mean? Or some of your soulless zombies under mutual command?”
Strat had been braced for it, by then. Kama wanted to crawl under the table, pretend she didn’t understand what was happening and suggest they all go to breakfast-anything but sit there, a mute witness to the rending of a Sacred Band oath.
Strat had said only, “Crit, I signed off” on your paperwork, what more do you want? You can’t handle this. We won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Tasfalen’s . . . our business. So’s Haught. Keep your people away from them, that’s all I’m saying.” And with that, Strat had left.
There was a time Kama would have taken Crit to her bosom on this son of rebound and felt like she’d won something. But the comfort he needed wasn’t hers, and all the acrobatics he’d put both of them through so that he could finally fall into an exhausted sleep didn’t help what was ailing Critias.
Or didn’t help enough. Still, she said, “Wait for me tonight,” and left him, thinking that, if things were going from bad to worse with Strat, Crit might really need her help. He needed someone’s. And Kama knew that, no matter what trouble it caused with Molin or anybody else, what- ever Crit needed, she had to try to give him,
Love tends to be like that, even in Sanctuary.
Alone in his office, Critias pretended to work on the duty roster until his eyes started to sting. Then he gave it up, having made little progress, and began to put his papers away, thinking that he’d go down to Caravan Square and see if he could find Kama another horse.