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When I think about what Gideon did, I’m still filled with rage—he said he’d protect me, and he tore me away from Azar against my will. He killed Azar—or at least, he tried his very hardest, even if he didn’t succeed. I’m still desperately hoping that he didn’t. He also coordinated with the humans to make weapons specifically calculated to bring Azar down.
And he used me to do it.
He can say he did it to save me, but his priority was killing Azar all along. He left my siblings with the dragons, knowing he’d be killing me and attacking the dragons.
But I’m rational enough, thanks to all my time in solitary confinement, to understand that my only shot at escaping, at reaching my siblings, and at finding out whether Azar really is gone, is to play nice. Instead of giving head to my desire to strangle Gideon until the light leaves his eyes when he does finally show up, I focus on the fact that I’m hungry, smelly, and irritable.
“Hey.” He cracks the door and looks around the room. “They did not exaggerate what this room looked like.”
My tone is flat, but I’m not yelling, and I’m not throttling him. “What are you here for?”
“Good to see you too,” he says.
“I’m not attacking you,” I say. “But if you thought I’d smile and gush after being killed, revived, and then locked up, you’ve lost your mind.”
Even in the low light streaming past him from the hall, I can see Gideon’s frown clearly.
“I’ve been locked in this room for who knows how long, without light or anything to do, read, or see, and I’ve been a good girl. I haven’t tried to fight my way out, I haven’t banged on the walls, and I haven’t tried to find a way to kill anyone who entered.”
“You spared all three of us, huh, your mom, your dad, and me?” His expression’s pretty patronizing for someone I vowed to kill the last time we met.
“I should take a swipe at you right now,” I say. “You’re being kind of a jerk.”
“But you won’t really hate me forever.”
It’s funny how humans are more likely to believe what we want to believe than anything else. I specifically refuse to consider what that might mean in regard to Azar.
There’s no way Gideon will believe that I’ve done a one-eighty, so I settle for hanging my words on my emotional upheaval. “I was ticked off, okay?”
He snorts. “That you were.” He takes one step closer, looking me over. “You look less angry now.”
“If I dance and sing with a smile on my face, can I get a shower?”
“Is that your top priority right now?” He steps closer still. “A shower?”
“I didn’t think you’d offer to loan me a tank so I can head back to try and rescue my brother and sisters. Is that on the table?”
“A tank?” He shakes his head. “It’s not, no.”
“A jet, then?”
He laughs. “No, I doubt the army will be handing you any kind of expensive machinery in the near future.”
“But you, they trust. They put you in charge.”
“Not in charge anymore,” he says, “but I’m on a critical advisory board, because I’ve proven myself to be useful. And I’m still a patriot.”
I want to insist that I, too, am a patriot, but I’m not sure I’m capable of outright lying to him, especially if they have cameras that will analyze my face. “My mom says you need my help.”
“Not help, so much as we have an opportunity for you to lend a hand.”
“So. . .my help. Or did the meaning of that word change during my sojourn with the dragons?”
Gideon rolls his eyes. “Still a smart aleck.”
“No.” I stand. “Just smart.”
“Why are you standing?” He narrows his eyes.
