The doors hadn't even fully opened and I was already halfway out.
Fresh air.
Freedom.
No more leaders staring at each other like they were one sentence away from starting a war with paperwork.
I inhaled like I'd just escaped prison.
"I'm alive," I whispered to myself, clutching my chest in dramatic relief. "I survived politics. Someone give me a medal."
Behind me, footsteps followed at a much more composed, annoyingly dignified pace.
Callian didn't rush. Of course he didn't. The man probably walked like that even during natural disasters.
"Your performance was acceptable," he said.
I turned, offended on principle. "Acceptable? I sat there and didn't start a fight. That's above acceptable. That's growth."
Cazash barked out a laugh. "She's not wrong."
Xionne stepped out next, looking far too pleased with himself, like he'd just had dessert and was already thinking about seconds. "You looked like you wanted to stab at least three people."
"I counted five," I corrected.
