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when it’s time to pray, we’ll be dressed up all in gray
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It was surprisingly easy to be honest with the goddess. Croe supposed that was partly due to her incarceration – why bother lying, why bother hiding, when the worst had already happened? But it wasn’t just that, she knew. Part of her conceded that she did not like lying, as good as she could be at it. So much of her life in the alliance had been cover stories, manipulations. Months at a time living a fabricated life. She and Denny had played business partners, ambassadors, newlyweds, rival corporate hawks. Anything, in the quest for information that would keep the Alliance ahead. Croe could not help but wonder if those made-up lives had contributed to her complete loss of self, after The Boot.

It was refreshing to be open, even as she tried to piece together who, and what, she was now.

You’re not like her.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, her mouth turning up at one corner. Let’s be honest, she knew it was a bad thing. She also knew, without a hint of vanity, that there were very few people like her. There were especially few women like her…women that could kill without thinking twice, who were better at taking life than creating it. That seemed to be the only thing about her that was fixed, the only thing that had survived her amnesia. A heart of iron.

But even iron could be warmed, albeit with effort. She was loyal, she reminded herself. She’d been loyal to Henry, and to Gryn, and to Mallos. She’d been loyal to her governess and her goddess and Denny, before. She supposed she could be loyal to the crown, if the option presented itself.

“I would do anything for him, and for Ángela,” she confirmed, folding her hands in her lap. There were a few minutes of awkward silence, as both women grappled with their respective social challenges. Then: “What is death like?” If it was an inappropriate question, Croe showed no sign of knowing it; her tone was light, curious, the tone of one who had never particularly feared dying. Since she had not feared it, she had never spent much time imagining what it might be like. “Can you find people in there? The other originals?”



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