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CHAPTER 1

SHE USUALLY WEARS BLACK

Mae dealt out death regularly It really wasn’t a problem

Death was clean on the battlefield, and there was no reason to dwell on what it meant The kills were just mission objectives, and the people weren’t really people at all It was you or theht was done, you could just walk away

But today? There was no walking away Today, she alking toward death, and that scared the hell out of her Not much else did these days

With a deep breath, she leaned her cheek against the living roolass cooled her skin She repeated the soldier’s creed over and over in her head, using the familiar words to steady herself: I am a soldier of the Republic I do not serve ladly lay down lory I am a soldier of the Republic I do not serve my oill but that of my country…

A knock at the door startled her out of her htened up Another deep breath cal of her hands, and she pushed her emotions into a far cos could not touch her They were powerless, and she was free She double-checked her face in theaway It was blank Empty In control

Dag and Val were at the door, as she’d known they’d be They greeted her with forced so-lucky selves Both wore uniforms identical to hers: a mandarin-collared black jacket over black pants with black boots Black everywhere Even the buttons were black The only color ca out like a drop of blood To the inexperienced eye, these uniforms looked no different from the ones the prætorians usually wore into battle To Mae, who could see and feel the dressy fabric of their forht back her earlier fears of vulnerability Being weaponless wasn’t helping matters

“Here to babysit me?” she asked

“Who said anything about babysitters?” Dag was always quick with a s “We’re just a bunch of friends going out together”

“Youto a bar,” Mae said She walked back to the ly worked on Gri it all

Val made herself comfortable on the arm of the couch, lazy and limber as a cat, even under these circu?”

“It’s messy,” Mae said

“There wasn’t a hair out of place,” protested Val

Mae didn’t answer In the lances behind her It’s worse than I thought, Val seeree a neck, lifting weights, donut-eating contests Those were in his comfort zone Therapy? Less so

It wasn’t part of Val’s skill set either Neither knew quite what to do with Mae, and she certainly wasn’t going to help the She wanted them to treat her in their usual flippant way And what she wanted most was for this day to be over, so that life could return to normal

“How many times have you braided it today?” Val’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle

“It’s not right,” Mae said, dodging the question This was actually the eighth tihtly that her scalp had started to turn red, though the tiny metal implant in her arm dutifully dulled the pain “You wouldn’t understand”

Neither Val nor Dag ever had hair proble always kept his dark hair closely shaved, and Val wore hers in a pixie cut that suited her diht She’d considered it a hundred ti herself to do it

“It’s okay, you know Grief is a nor self-help books before co over “You can even cry”