Myra stared back at the silent group in the common room, daring them to remark on her appearance. No one took up her silent challenge until Jaxon walked in. “What the hell are you wearing, Mys?”
“A dress.”
“That’s a little more than a dress. You planning on infiltrating the Ruler’s ball or something?”
“Yes.” Actually no. She was expected, required even, the wayward daughter of the Ruler, doing the bare minimum of her duty. But her fellow lab rats didn’t need to know who she was outside their secure, quiet bubble.
Amber shifted in her seat beside Nailor. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if you get caught?”
“I won’t, I’ve been invited. Sort of, partner of one of our clients.”
She grimaced at their shock. “I think he’s planning on showing me off as some strange and rare specimen. I don’t think the Council’s families spend much time around scientists.”
Jaxon frowned, of course he was being the difficult one. “Why are you going?”
“Because we need more funding, and I want to find out who we should be hitting up to get it.”
“But that’s the Director’s job.”
“The Director got drunk at the last party and vomited all over the Ruler’s mother. He’s hiding from everyone and taking it out on us.”
Jaxon grunted. “That explains a bit. Except how you’re going to manage any sort of social grace. I’ll bet you a week of beaker-washing duty you manage to make things worse.”
Myra smirked. “How will you know?”
He smirked back. “I’m coming too.”
The DNA of Stories 