Kassandora sighed and set off to Sokolowski's frontline in Raptor One. The Waeh problem could wait, the fact the front lines weren't moving was a bigger issue entirely.
Fer let go of Anassa's hand and looked at her sister. Anassa straightened and rubbed her wrist, in any other situation, she would have made a sour face and some defensive comment. Not now, the Anassa standing before her was the Anassa written about in the history books: Cold red eyes that boiled in fury, black hair to make the night jealous of its darkness. A glare that sent men running for their lives.
And Fer knew she stood in the same manner. A battle was one thing, there was honour in that, it was a test of wits and strength. A spy was another entirely. They all knew it, not a single member of her family claimed ownership over the rule, it was as obvious as saying grass was green or blood was red: Traitors died first.
