Page 89 of Reaper Said Mine

“You are in the middle of negotiations that could change control of the Badlands.”

“I am aware.”

“And you’re standing in a market arguing with me about guard placement and charity ledgers.”

“I find this more honest.”

“That is not how leadership works.”

I lean closer, lowering my voice. “Little journalist, you have been correcting my leadership for less than a day.”

“And yet I’ve made strong early progress.”

The Reaper woman laughs outright this time, then pretends to cough into her baby’s blanket. I shoot her a look. She bounces the baby and becomes fascinated by a ceiling pipe.

Ursa’s eyes glitter. “Your people like when someone argues with you.”

“My people like gambling with death in small amounts.”

“They like seeing you listen.”

That strikes harder than I expect.

I look out over the market, over the stalls, the patched lamps, the crowded walkways, the scarred species building a life inside a station everyone else calls lawless. They do watch me. They always have. I know their fear, their pride, their suspicion, their hunger. But since Ursa arrived, I have begun noticing another thing beneath it all, something I trained myself not to seek because wanting it made a leader vulnerable.

Hope is a dangerous scent. Once you recognize it, every room changes.

“I listen when people are worth hearing,” I say.

Ursa’s voice gentles. “That’s a good answer. Try using it in negotiations instead of threatening to mount someone’s spine over a docking bay.”

“That was one time.”

“Was it?”

“No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“I am trying to impress you.”

She stills just enough to make my blood warm.

Then she recovers with admirable speed. “Politically unwise.”

“Frequently.”

“Flirtation during a security dispute?”

“Efficient.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Also true.”

Her laugh is softer this time, and for one stolen moment the market’s noise wraps around us like privacy. I see the exhaustion under her eyes, the stubborn set of her mouth, the way she holds her compad like both shield and blade. She came to my station hunting truth, and now truth is hunting us both through corridors lined with diplomats, spies, and old blood.

Skahar’s voice cuts through my comm before I can say more.