The sitting room was cool and still, a long stretch of pale carpet and low couches under the high windows. Chris crossed it without thinking and sank into the corner of the sofa, dragging the thin laptop from the side table. Not his own machine, which had been left behind in Palatine, but the clone Dax had handed him like a consolation prize. It booted up with the same smooth interface, but the feeling was wrong, like wearing someone else's shirt.
He opened Ethan's folder and started scanning through the drafts he'd promised to check. The familiar graphs and notes blinked up at him; his fingers hovered over the keys but didn't move. Marta had retreated to the kitchen down the hall, and Hanna had fled to one of the small offices now that the king was no longer present to impress.
