Quillon didn't respond to the apology, instead gesturing at Kira. "If you would have a seat, we will begin."
Kira didn't move for several long seconds, staring at the place where the two had disappeared. "That wasn't synth armor."
Quillon made an impressed sound. "Very good. Not many would have been able to tell the difference."
He pointed at the bed, making it clear he wasn't going to share anymore until she did as requested.
Kira was slow to move, trying not to betray her obvious reluctance as she hopped onto a bed. She was sure he saw through her. Quillon struck her as the quiet one between Silas and him. That didn't mean he wasn't observant.
She suspected he didn't miss much.
"Not a fan of healers?" Finn asked. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you were scared of anything."
"Everyone's scared of something." For Kira, it was less a question about fear than it was about trust. Not every healer had your best interests in mind. Sometimes they saw a puzzle that needed solving. It didn't matter who they had to hurt or what they had to do if it meant cracking the mystery that was her genes.
"Well put," Quillon said with a small smile, his hands pausing as they drifted over her middle.
Quillon took up the thread of what they'd been discussing. "If a House can afford it, they will often gift a set of ural armor to an initiate hopeful. It’s not as high quality as synth armor, but it's still considered a mark of honor and evidence of a House's faith.”
"I'm assuming a set of armor comes in handy for the type of training Roake uses," Kira guessed.
Quillon nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
And if you didn't have one, you were at a tactical disadvantage, Kira concluded. The advantages of wealth and family were apparent even here in this alien society.
Kira's thoughts shifted to Joule. She hadn't seen any evidence of the armor the other two had worn with ease. He'd be one of those starting from behind at the beginning of the race. He'd have to work twice as hard to make up for the lack.
Quillon's forehead wrinkled as his gaze turned distant. He remained like that for several minutes, his frown growing more severe as the seconds ticked by.
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, his gaze piercing.
She waited, knowing what he'd probably found. It wasn't likely to be pretty.
Quillon's expression settled, no hint of his discovery on it as he shot Finn a censorious glance. "Most warriors, in my experience, are pains in the ass. They never think they need the healer until they've gone too far."
There was a small sound of agreement from the woman in the corner, her eyes twinkling as she slid the oshota a sidelong glance.
Kira looked between the two, noting the synth armor that Quillon still wore and the healer's distinct lack.
Seeing the question on her face, Quillon raised an eyebrow. "Ask what you're thinking."
Kira took her time. "I thought the synth armor denoted your status as oshota."
Quillon's expression remained neutral as Kira looked between the two again.
"But you're a healer, like her," Kira said slowly.
Quillon's expression softened, and he shook his head. "Oshota is a very complicated concept. Primarily, they're warriors, but because of what they experience, it's often useful to have a healer among their number."
Like a medic inserted into an infantry unit. They were trained on the same weapons, to defend and protect like every soldier, but their focus was different. In battle, they'd return fire, but their primary mission was to care for the wounded.
Himoto always said medics were the most popular person in any unit because soldiers knew it paid to have someone who liked you willing to risk their ass to retrieve your bleeding, wounded body if you should fall.
"You're a healer," she said. Not an oshota like she had originally guessed.
"I'm both," he said with a slight glimmer of amusement. "Those called to be oshota are unique. They're not only skilled with every weapon, but they must demonstrate a desire to protect. Our primary function isn't as killers. We're lethal, but only in defense of the person we pledge ourselves to. I was a healer first before being called to become more. I followed my call."
"Does that mean she hasn't taken the adva ka either?" Kira asked, trying to understand.
Quillon's expression softened. "I think you misunderstand. One does not become oshota simply from passing the adva ka. It takes many years of training. The adva ka is the first step, not the final one. A person does not need to be a warrior to pass it; they simply need to conquer themselves."
"Of course, a warrior's skill makes that easier," the healer said dryly.
Quillon inclined his head. "That is not a surprise given how our society is predisposed to violence."
Considering the primus form crouched within Kira, he had a point. That creature was meant for war. Even before she'd used its form the first time, she had been prone to throwing herself into a fight. It was as instinctive as breathing.
"Now, I'd like you to tell me your symptoms," Quillon suggested. "If I'm to help you, there can be no secrets between us."
Kira managed to keep her snort internal. She wished him luck with that. She was made of secrets. They were her bread and butter, succoring her when times were tough.
Her gaze moved to the healer. "Before we go further, she needs to leave."
The woman straightened, protest filling her expression.
Quillon held up a hand, forestalling her words as he regarded Kira thoughtfully. "Elodie is highly skilled. Her input would be valuable."
Be that as it may, Kira needed to trust the people who had extensive knowledge of her weaknesses. The Tsavitee were still out there. She hadn't seen the last of them. Kira had no doubt they were gearing up for an incursion somewhere in settled space.
It was only a matter of time, and as Ta Da'an had already proved, they had their hooks in the Tuann as surely as they did the humans.
Kira wasn't willing to risk news of her health falling into the wrong hands. It might not be much, and might not even make a difference in the end since Lothos had insinuated they thought she couldn't access the burst anymore. Then again, it might matter. She'd take any advantage she could get in the fight against them.
She shook her head. "No, she goes, or I'm out."
Elodie straightened, her expression mutinous, insult in the jut of her jaw and clenched fists. Kira was sure the woman's honor had never been called into question. Kira didn't care. You didn't win battles by being nice or polite. You won them by doing what was necessary, despite the personal cost.
She could have let it go, be the nice person who never hurt anyone’s feelings. That wasn't her.
Sometimes you had to speak up in your own best interests. No one was going to do it better than she could. If that meant the healer hated her, so be it.
"This is a highly irregular request," Elodie said. "I'm a fifth level healer. We take an oath. I wouldn't violate it."
"Can you tell me honestly that if someone asked you about my diagnosis that it would stay secret?" Kira asked.
Elodie paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It would be my duty to inform those in command if there is something concerning about your health, or if I suspect you're acting in such a way that jeopardizes you or others."