““Nor is he honorable,” Giddon said. “A man who fights you as he does is no better than an opportunist and no worse than a thug.” She froze. She stared at Giddon and didn’t even see his finger jabbing in the air, his puffed-up face. Instead she saw Po, sitting on the floor of the practice room, using the exact words Giddon had just used. Before Giddon had used them. “Giddon. Have you spoken those words to Po?” “Katsa, I’ve never even had a conversation with him when you were not present.” “What about to anyone else? Have you spoken those words to anyone else?” “Of course not. If you think I waste my time—” “Are you certain?” “Yes, I’m certain. What does it matter? If he asked me, I would not be afraid to tell him what I think.” She stared at Giddon, disbelieving, defenseless against the realization that trickled into her mind and clicked into place. She put her hand to her throat. She couldn’t catch her breath. She asked the question she felt she had to ask, and cringed against the answer she knew she would receive. “Have you had those thoughts before? Had you thought those things, while you were in his presence?””
