Althea sat on the edge of her bed, waiting.

A plan had been concocted for her to join the rogue mage from Carnivale and their pirate crew. Now she was standing by for the right moment. It could be in days, hours, or minutes.

In the meantime, she had to figure out how she was going to become a different person. If the crew even sniffed a whiff of Paragon on her, she was done for. These were cutthroat, ruthless pirates...if she messed up, she wouldn't get a second chance.

She was completely at a loss as to how she was going to manage it. She'd grown up in the Paragon. It had seeped into her every pore for the past sixteen years. It was in how she spoke, carried herself, and interacted with everyone around her. Her father was asking her to tear herself back to the studs and rebuild entirely...how could he expect her to undo a lifetime of learning in a few hours?

There was only one explanation, one that twisted her stomach up in knots. He didn't expect her to accomplish such a ridiculous task—he just wanted her out of the way so that he could use Nathaniel without anyone speaking up. Her brother was safe for now, fast asleep in his room with his shade hovering by his head, but as soon as Althea was gone, it would be back into the training ring.

She rubbed her temples. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Her father had changed since the Settlement disaster eight years ago, she knew that. It had made him cold, hard, eliminated any semblance of kindness in him. But was he so far gone that he was willing to put his own childrens' lives on the line? Were she and Nathaniel such disappointments that they deserved this?

Althea looked at herself in the floor-length mirror across the room. She didn't look like herself.

She wore a simple blouse and a pair of black trousers. Despite her Paragon uniform's tight fit and itchy material, Althea felt much more comfortable in it. At least it was familiar—this outfit felt bizarrely casual, like she'd just stumbled out of a pub. She wore the small silver hair pin from her father in her hair. Thick strands of her hair slipped out of it, tickling the nap of her neck, and she resisted tucking them back in. As a Paragon soldier, she couldn't have a hair out of place...but whoever she was now wouldn't be bothered by such things.

Her boots were worn, scuffed on the toes. Who was their previous owner? Something told her she was better off not knowing.

What was even worse than the outfit was the strange lightness at her hip, where her four-barrel rifle usually hung. Her hand kept going to her side, but she wrenched it back—yet another ingrained habit that she would have to quash. All she had now was a short dagger, concealed in her right boot.

All in all, she felt horribly vulnerable. A lump rose in her throat and suddenly the urge to cry was nearly impossible to suppress.

Get it together, she told herself harshly. Play it smart.

She couldn't hope to speak like a local, so she would only speak when absolutely necessary. She couldn't hide her Paragon mannerisms, so she would try to observe the others before making a move. She couldn't count on her hands not to betray her, so she would keep them busy and fiddle with her sleeves. Normal people had habits like that, didn't they? Fiddling with things, tapping their feet, chewing their nails? Everything she'd learned as a solider, she would have to unlearn. She couldn't be Althea anymore—she needed to be someone else.

There was a knock at the door. Althea stood to get it, but they didn't wait for her to call out.

Vice-President Tae strolled in. She took a quick look around the bare room before settling her gaze on Althea.

"Ready?" she asked, sounding bored. Well, she wasn't the one going into the belly of the beast. Althea was so nervous she felt like she might throw up.

"Yes."

"A tip to the wise—it's yeah, not yes."

Althea nodded "Yeah." The word felt very, very odd coming out of her mouth.

Tae cocked her head. "Your posture is too good."

Althea forced herself to slump, jutting out her hip.

"Better. Act like you've got something to hide. That's how pirates behave."

Well, that would be easy. "Got it."

"Good. Let's go."