Sonia goes slightly stone-faced at that, a look of her sister's she tries imitating, although not altogether successfully. She might be naive, but she isn't stupid. She knows well by now that no matter how genuine their friendship had been, that doesn't mean he isn't still trying to manipulate her.

He isn't wrong, is the thing. Isn't that the role she's tried to reclaim for herself, a symbol of -- relief, if nothing else? But the outsiders are few, and the Cetagandans here are in the thousands, and somehow she doesn't think she'll be swaying many of them.

But he isn't wrong about her sitting in this cell, either. She already hates it, already wonders how long she could abide it, but Betan as she is, Sonia is far more Barrayaran than she likes to admit. The pride that keeps her from giving her parole is utterly Vor.

"Boost morale?" she suggests, with just the lightest sardonic touch.