Cynara’s finger pointed without hesitation. “Her. Channing.” She looked a little startled at her finger, then back at Abaddon, then back at the girl in question. “Her,” she repeated. She was more firm this time. “I —” She turned away from him, looking at Zita and Howard and Leo. Her friends.
“Thanks. I will owe you one, when we are our own people.” He couldn’t promise, but he imitated the phrasing he’d heard from people who could.
She wasn’t listening anymore, already turned to Howard, but he thought he saw Zita nod in approval at him.
Then he was moving on, hurrying, stepping up until Channing could see him. Continue reading