Vessa froze.
Her body went still. Her gray eyes widened, just slightly, just enough to show that the question had landed somewhere she hadn't armored.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"I..."
Nothing came.
No answer. No prepared response. No flat, controlled delivery of information.
She had been asked what she wanted.
Not what Gathrax wanted. Not what the citadel needed. Not what her power could provide.
What she wanted.
Herself.
For the first time.
"I don't know," she said finally.
The words came out small.
"No one has ever asked me."
Cruxius nodded.
"I'm asking."
"I don't have an answer."
"Then find one."
He turned back to the sky.
"You have three days."
Vessa walked back to the master chamber.
Her hands shook.
The whole way.
Through the corridors. Past the guards. Up the stairs. Through the door.
Into the presence of Gathrax.
The fat man sat on his throne. His golden teeth glinting. His small eyes bright.
