"You are shaking."
The private elevator hummed, a low, smooth vibration carrying them upward to the penthouse.
"I... I am shivering, Sovereign," Yanna gasped, her bare back pressed against the freezing steel of the dorsal plate.
"Is it the temperature, or is the adrenaline crashing?" Camille asked, not looking at her. She watched the floor numbers tick upward on the digital display.
"The muscles are failing, Mistress. The weight of the frame... it's pulling the joints apart."
"Forty-two pounds of steel," Camille mused, her voice calm and conversational. "Plus the three pounds of tungsten anchored in your pelvis. You have been carrying forty-five extra pounds for six hours, in a forced isometric hold. Your central nervous system is currently screaming for relief."
"Yes, Sovereign! It's screaming!"
"Do you want me to unbox you?"
