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Dominic slammed his tablet into his lap and glared at Oliver. “My little hobbies are going to revolutionize the Turner corporation.”
“Oh, Dominic.” Oliver shook his head with a chuckle. “You spend too much time alone in your laboratory. Your delusions are showing.”
“Fuck you, Oliver,” Dominic muttered with a sneer. He seemed to have finally realized Oliver’s game and picked up his data tablet again without saying anything more.
Oliver let it drop and let himself look out the window instead. He could only antagonize his older brother so much before even he started to feel guilty. The truth was Dominic really did have a special genius for science and engineering. He had led their R&D department to completion on a number of great projects. And it was unfair that their father seemed incapable of seeing that—too dazzled by Oliver’s familiar looks and superior charisma to care what his other son did.
Oliver might actually feel bad for Dominic if he wasn’t such an arrogant, heartless dick.
Which he supposed was exactly how other people saw him. Well, that was the Turner family for them.
Oliver’s mind wandered off into the place he’d been trying to keep it from before he could yank it back. Heartless and selfish—that’s what Mal’ik had finally seen.
Fuck it. Oliver watched the surface of the planet approach and finally let himself think about Mal’ik. He must hate what was happening. War with Southern Tava? Mal’ik must hate it. Oliver could imagine the way his lips would press together, his back would straighten, and his eyes would flash.
Oliver was unabashedly looking forward to seeing Mal’ik at the meeting, though he had no idea what he would do or say. He couldn’t make this situation better for Mal’ik, and he highly doubted his presence alone would do it. Mal’ik wasn’t interested in his presence any longer. But Oliver needed to see him anyway.
Their transport docked in the same hangar they’d used when Oliver first arrived in Tava what felt like years ago now. He unbuckled himself, stood and stretched, and checked his clothes for wrinkles. He’d worn something more subdued this time, in honor of the situation, but no less elegant.
Garin met them at the exit to the gangway and spoke to them both but fixed Oliver with a look. “Let me go first.”
Oliver just nodded. He wasn’t interested in tempting fate at the moment.
Along with Dom’s bodyguard, Garin led the way down into the hangar. The group gathered to meet them was small, only a handful of high-up military dignitaries and way more security than last time.
Oliver’s eyes traced through the lines of Klah’Eel soldiers wielding gatlungs and rifles, looking for one tall man in particular. But then his gaze caught on Patrick’s, and Patrick narrowed his eyes in a knowing, unfriendly way, and Oliver quickly refocused on the dignitaries, feeling exposed.
Dominic ushered them all into the meeting, and Oliver let himself be buoyed along with the dignitaries and bodyguards, nodding and making conversation but not attempting to outshine his brother. Dominic was almost comically eager to get started, though he disguised it well as a somber urgency.
They gathered into a windowless meeting room—the sort that had smart leather chairs designed to make an impression but a darkness designed to emphasize the security of the meeting. Oliver quickly sized up the room as he stepped in.
He and his father had stayed up late into the night deciding exactly who to invite and who to exclude, though, of course, not every attendee had been up to them.
There were ten people total, including Oliver and Dominic.
Serihk and Harrison were already seated, both stoic and tight-lipped. Oliver had wished to exclude them, but the Klah’Eel war minister had insisted on Serihk’s presence, and Serihk had insisted on Harrison’s. They both glanced at him and then away again without so much as a nod of greeting. Still not allies then.
The gruff-looking older klah’eel man beside Serihk was a general Oliver knew to be a hawk. He had brought the younger klah’eel woman that sat beside him, whom Oliver now recognized as the braided woman who had met with Mal’ik so many times the day before the attack.
The two Klah’Eel dignitaries that had met them in the hangar and took their seats now were rich and powerful and had their own business concerns in Southern Tava.
The most important person, according to Alistair Turner, was the klah’eel man who held himself with an unmistakable air of authority and stood at the podium: War Minister Hashi.
The most important person, according to Oliver Turner, was Mal’ik, who should have been sitting in the empty seat beside Harrison. Instead, Patrick followed them in and stood behind it. Minister Hashi fixed Patrick with a firm glare. “Where is Commander Mal’ik?”
Oliver didn’t let the surprise show on his face as he took his seat at the head of the table. Mal’ik had received a promotion then?
Patrick straightened his back and stood at attention. “Commander Mal’ik is in a briefing with his captains, sir. He’s evaluating who to bring during the first advance—many of them are too green to have fought in the original campaign. He sent me in his place.”
Hashi frowned hard at Patrick, and to his credit, the human didn’t blink. Finally, Hashi nodded, and Oliver’s heart sank. “I’ll allow it.” He pointed a finger at Patrick. “You make sure he gets all of this information, though. He’ll need it when he goes down there.”
When he goes down there. Who to bring during the first advance. Ice crystallized around Oliver’s throat and heart. Mal’ik was being sent to the front. No, Mal’ik was going to be in charge of the front. Oliver fought the sudden urge to stand, flee the meeting, and find him. Mal’ik couldn’t go to Southern Tava. It was dangerous. But more than that, it was wrong. Mal’ik couldn’t be the one to assault cities; it would break him.
Oliver’s eyes darted to the door, and on their way, they caught on Patrick’s again. From this close, Oliver saw the open distaste. He forced himself to relax back into his chair. He didn’t know what in particular he had done to earn Patrick’s dislike—there were so many options after all—but he clearly shouldn’t show him any weakness. He would have to find Mal’ik afterward.
Garin had not joined them in the small meeting room, so Oliver typed out a quick order for him to locate Commander Mal’ik as Dominic took the podium. He tucked the tablet away just as Dominic cleared his throat, modeling the respectful attention that every member of the Turner family deserved.
“Thank you for making the time to attend this meeting on short notice,” Dominic began, his voice low and even; excellent for conveying competence and confidence in the face of crisis. Dominic might not have the most charisma of the Turner family, but he was no lout when push came to shove. “My name is Dominic Turner. For the past few years, I have been leading a project at the Turner Corporation Research and Development Department that we hoped would never see the light of day.”
