She wants to say no. To promise him that he never harmed any of the girls he'd helped train, to wipe away that horror the way no one can ever do for her.

She can't. She doesn't know for sure, and while she's certain she could spin a lie good enough to make him believe her, there's no kindness in that. Not when he has enough pieces of the past to still have flashes of memory. Not when it might all come rushing back one day.

"I don't know," she says quietly. "Not when we were small. They culled us before we came to you, and the girls who failed too many tests..." Her mouth twists, and she swallows against the taste of bile in her throat.

"They were not given quick. But I don't know if any of them found you on the wrong end of a mission."