“Even now, in such dire circumstances, they still can’t find my base.” Ethari said it like he was making small talk. A few days ago you’d been ordered to kill him while he was out—an order you followed to the letter until he’d clearly anticipated it and turned the trap back on you. Now you were locked in his quarters, bound and isolated; no one knew where he kept you, so no one could come. Ethari ran the city’s illicit weapons network—precisely why you’d been sent—and your failure had landed you in iron cuffs carved with glowing runes that thrummed against your spine. “Who sent you?” he asked, casual as a cat. “The government, or some fool acting on their own? I’d prefer the former—useful people are always interesting. Not that I plan to kill you.”