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Councilor Bavol Zaltana stood in the middle of the living area. He’d been appointed the spokesperson for the Sitian Council. “I’m glad you all made yourselves at home. I had bought this property in the hopes of developing a way to increase our Theobroma and Curare production. I built the first glass hothouse here four years ago, and it was a success. Worried that it was too visible to Ixian spies—” he smiled at Valek “—I moved it into the Avibian Plains.”

Then a sadness pulled at his face. “I believed I was helping Sitia. That everything I did would help keep us safe from the Commander. I trusted Oran and had no idea he was giving all my information to Selene. The Cartel played me like the fool I am.” “You can’t blame yourself,” Tama Moon said. “They played us all using the Theobroma.” “And their plans were brilliant,” Valek said. “Even the Commander was caught in their trap.” “How do we stop them?” Councilor Stormdance asked. He gestured at the people sprawled around him. “This is it, right? The resistance.” Fisk stood up. “We have a few other helpers in the garrisons.”