The silence that followed that statement was heavy, pressing against the walls of the vast chamber.
Zaeryn stared at the space where her holographic eyes met his. A shiver went down his spine that had nothing to do with the cool, recycled air of the Council Chamber. It was the weight of her gaze, the terrifying precision of her approval.
"I'm not a masterpiece," Zaeryn said, his voice tight, cutting through the quiet. "I'm just a 'Strategic Asset.' Remember? That's what you sold me as."
He didn't actually believe he was just a tool, but he had noticed the pattern. To Lysara, to the Council, even to her, he was a weapon to be pointed at the Vorthaks. A biological loophole to be neutralized or exploited. He understood why Lysara would look at him that way. She was a soldier. But Athea was supposed to be his mother.
