She went to the bathroom.
She was brushing her teeth with disinfecting gel when the suite door opened.
She saw the panic in the mirror.
She clenched her fists. Released them.
And stepped into the common area.
Horos was already by the wall, one hand hovering over the restraint control.
A warning.
She leaned against the doorframe and looked him over without speaking.
Horos, however, was eager to talk.
“Lily. That is a good place for you. I would prefer not to hurt you unnecessarily. Keep your distance until I can be sure you will not do something foolish.”
She tilted her head, mirroring a gesture she had seen him use often.
“If I knew the plan,” she said calmly, “it would be easier not to do something foolish. What do you want, Horos?”
Horos threw back his head and laughed, his neck bending in a way that would have broken a human. Lily forced herself not to react.
“How long do you think I worked for Vegrun?”
“I have no idea.”
“Ten chrono-years. Long even for a Corvus. And that bloated, useless sack fired me without a word. Yes, I did things. And so what? He did not become wealthy through kindness. I will not spend my life in another’s shadow.”
He slammed his clawed hand onto the table.
Greedy.
Miserable.
That was something.
“I understand,” Lily said softly.
Horos looked startled.
His thin lips curved into a smile, exposing sharklike teeth.
“Perhaps you are not as hopeless as I thought.”
He stepped closer, then stopped just outside arm’s reach.
Lily’s body coiled instinctively, ready to strike, but she forced her face into the polite, professional smile she had worn so often on Earth.
“Horos. Why am I here? You have Vitro. That alone is a greater insult to Vegrun than anything else. You do not need me.”
Horos shook his head slowly, sinuously.
“Yes, Vitromium will be valuable to me. Vegrun will never lounge on it again with his damp flesh. But you are valuable too. Do you know what a genuine Earth female is worth?”
Lily stared at his enormous black eyes.
