Damon kept his hand on Lysandra's shoulder as he watched her silently. There was no hurry in his expression, nor explicit anger. What existed within him was something more uncomfortable: calculation. He measured her breathing, the movement of her eyes, the firmness of her posture even kneeling in the dust. Desperate people trembled. Trained people lied calmly. Lysandra clearly belonged to the second group.
"When did you leave?" he asked.
"Last night," she replied without hesitation.
"Destiny."
She smiled again, almost amused. "If I knew, do you think I would tell you?"
Damon tightened his grip on her arm. The muffled sound of her joint clenching made Cherry smile with immediate satisfaction.
"He asked about the destination," Cherry said, leaning in front of her. "Try to keep up."
Lysandra closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and looked back at them.
