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A heart-rending loss. A life in peril. An empire at stake. Is the price for peace too high?
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And, look what arrived Monday...
“Tell me something I haven’t heard and isn’t utter bull. Maybe it’d be easier to start with: What is your plan to get the idiotic charges against me dropped?”
Fander took in the small crowd of expectant faces in the corridor. So, this was what the Terrian saying about rocks and hard places meant. “I would like to continue this conversation in private.”
Graig shook his head. “That’s disappointing.”
Nor made a strangled sound as though struggling not to laugh. Great. Just great. “It will only take a moment. You deserve the opportunity to choose what you want others to know.”
“She is not going anywhere with you.” Roble had one look: angry glare.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Flora raised her hands as though imploring the heavens. “I am sick to death of people talking about me in front of my face. For your information, I deserved that opportunity nine years ago. I’m not going anywhere with anyone—especially you, Fander. I’ll find my own seat, alone, for the ride.”
She pushed passed him and stalked down the corridor. The material of the wysgog shimmered and flowed over her hips with each step.
Of all the possible scenarios he had imagined for their reunion, that had not been one. They had ranged from shy awkward hugs to wild and passionate kisses. An extreme vision led to copulation, which had been pure fantasy on his part.
At least she was going in the direction of the passenger seating compartment. He turned back and met the level grey gaze of Graig Roble. The Matiran raised his eyebrows as though saying, Nice going, dumb ass. Then he strode off in the same direction as Flora.
Fander pressed his lips together. How had things gone so awry so fast?
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