Chapter 97: The Cost of Aphrodisiac Diplomacy
"Explain."
Sophia's voice rang out across the suite like a velvet guillotine.
Kathrine — flushed, swaying slightly, and looking like she'd just lost an argument with gravity — slammed back another glass of whatever ruinous poison she was using to incinerate her liver. She crossed one leg over the other with theatrical grace and lifted her chin like she was still the dignified representative of a noble house, not a half-drunk mess with a pulsating secret.
"You see, my lady," she began with the slurring poise of someone who was very determined not to slur, "I've been assigned to a two-week diplomatic mission. Out beyond the edge. Uncharted territory. No formal Spartari recognition, no military presence, no standing treaties. A... fertile system, if you'll pardon the pun."
"Ah," Sophia said dryly. "Empire outreach wrapped in interstellar flattery."
