I awoke, disoriented by the light streaming in through the narrow windows. I couldn’t remember falling asleep, but the sour taste in my mouth suggested I’d been out for a while. The last thing I remembered was Ronad telling me about a grand party that had been thrown at the house, where Bashrik, Ronad, and Navan had been sent to their rooms for trying to steal cups of the adults’ punch. The elixir had been created from a rare kind of blood, and made them feel loopy.

I recalled Ronad saying something about a teenage Bashrik starting to do a striptease in front of several very important members of the Vysanthean court, but after that, I had no memory. Sleep must have taken me.

Rolling over to relieve the stiff ache in my shoulders, I realized I was alone in the tower room. Ronad’s bed was neatly made, evidence that he was already gone. That wasn’t so strange—I was used to him rising early, so he could visit Lorela before breakfast—but I’d only dozed off for a late-afternoon nap. The light from the window was unbearably bright. Surely, the sky should have been darkening, ready for the evening?

This house was already weird enough without time playing tricks on me. Mystified, I hurried out of the room, my head fuzzy. I took the stairs as fast as my sleepy legs would carry me. Someone was clattering around in the kitchen, just down the hallway.

“It lives!” Ronad laughed, grinning as I entered.

I made a confused face. “What do you mean?”

“You, sleeping like the dead! I tried to wake you up a couple of times, but you were out like a light. I figured you were tired, so I let you rest,” he replied, his laughter fading.

“Wait, what day is it?” I sat on a kitchen stool and held my head in my hands. Had I been asleep since yesterday afternoon? I mean, I felt rested, but I didn’t feel that rested.

“It’s sneaking-out day. Are you feeling okay?” His face showed a growing concern. “Do you feel sick?”

I shook my head. “I feel fine… I just don’t feel like someone who’s been asleep for more than twelve hours.”

“It might’ve been whatever Kaido put in your system during his experiment,” Ronad reasoned. “He came upstairs last night, looking for you, but I told him you were resting. He didn’t seem surprised. He muttered something about temporary side effects, but I tend to ignore most of what he says.”

“This time, it might’ve been nice if you’d actually listened,” I said, instantly regretting the grumpiness in my voice. “Sorry, my head feels like it’s full of fluff.”

He smiled. “Apology accepted. I can only imagine what that plant stuff must have done to your brain.” He pulled a funny face, making me laugh. He had a way of doing that—always cracking a joke or doing something silly to let me know we were cool again.

“Speaking of Kaido, where is he?”

“He said he was going to try and catch you before he left for the public execution,” Ronad replied, moving over to my personal stash of fruits and vegetables.

“What about Jareth?”

Ronad juggled three vibrant fruits—pink, yellow, and blue—before slicing them up and fanning them out on a platter. “He’s already gone. I imagine Gianne wanted him there early, for some official rigmarole.”

“Good word,” I commended.

“I do enjoy stretching the old vocabulary now and again. You humans have such beautiful languages, beyond what these things can translate.” He tapped the side of his head, where his linguistic nano-chip was implanted. “Sometimes, it’s nice to throw in one I’ve learned the old-fashioned way. I know Navan takes pride in showcasing what he’s bothered to learn himself.”

Smiling sadly at the thought of Navan, I pulled back the edge of my collar and glanced down at the flashing climpet beneath. There it was, blinking steadily, letting me know my boyfriend’s heart was still beating.

Ronad carved another pink fruit into a flower, the petals curving outward. For someone who didn’t eat solid food, he was becoming quite the culinary artiste.

“Good morning,” Kaido announced brusquely, making me turn away from Ronad’s sharp prep skills. “I trust you are well rested, as you appear to have slept for more than half a full day.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” I replied with a warm smile.

“I should have warned you yesterday—your brain chemistry is unaccustomed to the plants used in my serum, so your body will likely be forced to compensate with fatigue, leading to an increased amount of rest,” he said. “An oversight on my part, but it is a temporary side effect. You should be back to normal by the end of the day, tomorrow at the latest.”

I raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Seems like there are a lot of side effects that you neglected to warn me about.” After all, feeling suddenly sleepy was the last thing I needed today, with a big mission awaiting me.

Kaido shook his head. “I did not neglect to tell you of them. You merely forgot I had told you.”

“Makes total sense,” I teased.

“Anyway, I hoped to give you the results of the experiment before I left,” Kaido went on. “As I suspected, your brain chemistry responded in the exact opposite manner to that of a Vysanthean mind. That is not where the intrigue stops, however.”

Ronad smirked. “Intriguing for you, maybe,” he muttered, bringing over the platter of fruit for me.

I shot him a disapproving look. “I think it’s fascinating, actually.”

“Thank you, Riley. I am glad someone has intellectual curiosity in this room,” Kaido remarked. It was probably the closest thing to a deliberate insult he was capable of. “The most fascinating finding was that, when stimulated by the serum, the affected areas of your brain released trace amounts of a chemical we call imocea. It is something I have never encountered in the brain chemistry of another species, aside from Vysantheans. Indeed, I thought it was unique to our people, until now.”

I looked at him in shock. “And I have it in my brain?”

“A very, very insignificant amount, yes,” he said excitedly. “It does not naturally occur, it would seem, but is produced when your brain is properly stimulated. Now, we Vysantheans have it running in our veins—it is what allows us our superior strength, speed, healing, brain function, etcetera. It is what sets us apart from many other species.”

“But the Draconians are stronger and faster than you. Don’t they have it?” I wondered.

Kaido scoffed. “Their strength stems from a different physical chemistry altogether—there are many chemicals and mutations that can cause different developments,” he said, sounding like a schoolteacher. “I believe there were studies done, a long time ago, into what made the Draconians so formidable, but those findings were lost. What we do know, however, is that imocea is responsible for our growth.”

“So, why is it in my head?” I asked, dumbfounded.

He paused thoughtfully. “It is something we shall endeavor to discover together, Riley. If you would be willing, I should like to investigate more, to see if there is, somehow, a common link between your species and mine,” he proposed. “Naturally, your species is a mere embryo compared to us, but perhaps you are an ancestral offshoot—the product of an errant entity that managed to escape Vysanthe’s atmosphere and travel all the way to Krypton.” A short, sharp bark—his alarming attempt at laughter—erupted from his throat. Evidently, there was something hilarious in the idea of that happening. I chuckled along with him, wanting him to feel comfortable.

“You’re going to be late, Kaido,” Ronad chimed in, nodding to the clock on the wall.

“Oh dear, that is not good. I have lingered too long,” Kaido muttered, suddenly flustered.

“Yeah, you better get going!” Ronad said.

Kaido looked at me, ignoring Ronad completely. “You will consent to more experiments? This may be the breakthrough I’ve sought my entire life. It may explain those people you spoke of, who are similar to me, where you come from,” he said, with such hope in his voice that I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

“As long as you don’t hide any more side effects from me, I’ll help you out,” I joked feebly.

He frowned. “I did not keep them from you, Riley. I will do my best to repeat the warnings next time, once the experiment is over,” he assured me, missing my joke entirely. “Now, I must go before I really am late. Please, take good care of my mother while I am away,” he added, turning his pointed gaze at Ronad.

“I’ll look after her like she was my own mother,” he replied, his tone cold.

“Excellent. Well, goodbye then.”

Kaido hurried from the room. A moment later, the front door opened and closed, and the house fell silent.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Ronad muttered.

“You really don’t like him, do you?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t see how someone can lose a sister and feel nothing. He acted like someone had just told him the brand of blood we had in the mornings was going to change—he didn’t care. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but even if he has these problems you say he does… to show no emotion whatsoever? I’ll never understand that.”

I didn’t feel like continuing that line of conversation, not when we had so much to do today. He felt a certain way and had lived with those feelings for a long time now. I knew it would take more than a few words to change his mind.

“Come on, we should get going too,” I prompted.

He shot me a grateful smile. “I found some good stuff in the basement the other day. We should have a look and throw on some disguises. We’re definitely going to need something to hide these,” he said, gesturing to his face and mine.

Feeling anxious, I followed Ronad into the entrance hall and down the labyrinth of corridors that led to the basement steps. All the while, I thought about what Kaido had said about the imocea. Was there some ancestral link between humans and coldbloods? Looking at Ronad now, with his tanned skin and wingless back, I guessed we weren’t a million miles away from each other.

“I guess gray skin would be pretty handy right now,” I said as we hurried along. “I hadn’t even thought about clothes to keep us warm.” I flashed Ronad a grin, but he didn’t seem to be in his usual high spirits. A sadness was etched across his face. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I forget about it, too. I’ll catch sight of myself in a mirror and wonder who the hell the dude in the reflection is. I expect gray skin, and I see this, instead.” He sighed, lifting his tanned arms. “I even feel my wings sometimes, though I know they’re not there anymore. I think I miss them the most.”

“Would you change it, if you could?” I asked, as we headed down into the basement. The dim lamps washed the room in a sickly shade of yellow, revealing the dustsheets and detritus I’d woven through the previous day. I could still feel the bruise on my hip, where I’d bumped into something.

For a long time, Ronad didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to a box in the corner and lifted it onto the sheeted remains of an old table. Inside, there were unwanted cloaks and coats. He plucked out a dark gray trench coat of thick, wool-like fabric, chucking a long cloak in my direction. The cloak was made from a forest-green wool, with a fuzzy interior and a brown fur trim, the hem sweeping the floor.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot.” Ronad finally spoke as he threw on the dark gray coat and buttoned it up to the throat. “I became more human so I could stay on Earth, and now I’m back here. To be honest, I feel like I went through all that pain and suffering for nothing. More often than not, I find myself wishing I’d never done it.”

“Is there a way you could reverse it?”

He laughed tightly. “It would probably be twice as painful to grow everything back again. Even if the option was on the table, I’m not sure I’d go for it,” he admitted. I thought about the wing serum that Queen Brisha had given me, and the agony it had caused. That had been bad enough, and it was only a temporary procedure. “Anyway, forget all of that. Nothing I can do about it now. Do you think you’ll be warm enough?”

I peered into the box of clothes and pulled out a sweater. It was way too big but looked incredibly warm. Putting my cloak to the side, I pulled the sweater over my t-shirt, before fastening the cloak around my throat. Ronad smiled.

“Of all the clothes in that box, you pick the one thing that belonged to Navan. Maybe you two really are destined to be together,” he teased, putting the box back where it had come from.

“This is Navan’s?”

He nodded. “It was his favorite when he was a teenager. He called it his lucky sweater. Not that it ever actually did anything for him,” he said with a playful wink.

“Well, it’s my lucky sweater now.” I grinned. “Hopefully, it’ll stop us from getting ourselves killed. Do you have the pay device?”

Ronad nodded, taking it out of his pocket. “Check.”

“Disguise on?”

“Check.”

“Then we’re good to go.”

We hurried back up the basement steps and entered the kitchen again, letting ourselves out the back door, which led through the garden. Ronad fiddled with the latch, leaving it off so we could slip back in, undetected.

I’d forgotten just how cold Vysanthe could be, but remembered in a hurry as an icy wind whipped through the grounds, shaking the boughs of the gigantic trees. The leaves susurrated with whispers of warning. I was surprised that any flowers could grow in weather like this, but there were many vibrant petals holding on for dear life against the wintry gusts.

“Rask, was it always this cold?” Ronad hissed.

My face was already numb. “Yeah, it sucks.”

We exited through the silver archway at the bottom of the Idrax garden, checking for any unseen observers before continuing down the wide road. There were no houses to our left, only the dense rustle of thick forest. I couldn’t help peering into the shadows, wondering who might be watching from within.

We followed the road all the way down the entire length of the affluent neighborhood, until it came to a halt at an expanse of open parkland. On the opposite side of the greenery, there was a stretch of shops, though nobody seemed to be shopping today.

As we reached the storefronts, I peered into the darkened windows, trying to guess what each shop was selling. There was a clothing store, a bar, a comm device shop, and a blood bank, all of which were closed, no doubt in honor of Queen Gianne’s weekly executions. After all, everyone had to attend.

Up ahead, we could see a few coldbloods, but they seemed to be in a rush, their faces panicked. One man, presumably a shopkeeper, bolted out of the door in front of us, taking me by surprise. He muttered a vague apology before sprinting down the street, pausing at an obelisk that protruded from the sidewalk. He pressed a button on the side, gazing impatiently skyward. A few moments later, a squat, silver vehicle descended from above, its engines clattering. It was half the size of a Snapper, with a small back compartment for passengers.

This must be what a coldblood cab looks like, I thought, watching as the flustered Vysanthean hopped in the back, before the sky-cab took off again.

Ronad stepped forward, pressing the same glowing button. I looked up at the sky, like a child watching fireworks, waiting for our cab to descend. It did, a minute or so later, with a particularly gruff-looking cabbie at the proverbial wheel.

“After you,” Ronad insisted, opening the door to let me in.

“Thank you kindly,” I replied, my heart gripped with sudden panic.

As Ronad got in beside me, I knew there was no going back now.