Everything had happened in a blur from the moment we’d set foot in Vahakun to waking up in a cold marble cell. My head ached and clouded over the events of the preceding day.

Or so I guessed. It appeared to be dawn, and from the thin slats in the stone that peered out over the city, I finally took a long, unrushed look at the alien capital.

When we entered the palace from the servant’s entrance, we had wound through alleys and back passages and I never got a full glimpse of it. From my cell, I could see parts of its structure, a tall, glowing white stone structure that shone in the rising light of morning.

The city itself was starting to hum to life. I could hear the sounds of daily life set in motion. I may have been on an alien planet, but the tedious tasks of everyday activity were no different from those of Steel City.

Enjoying the sights and smells of the city, I heard a clicking behind me and suddenly recalled where I was. The clicking stopped, and I realized, distracted as I had been by all the fascinating novelties of Dragselia, that I had lost track of the events that had led up to this point.

I wore a simple white sheath that I had no memory of putting on. Closing my eyes, I fought to recall my last moments with Pavar. We had been with Brinae, and she had just had that terrifying, nightmarish episode. We had been discussing what to do about his brother.

The clicking sound returned again. The chamber was small and round, and suddenly, from the far end, the whole of the wall slid open, sending light streaming in.

A tall figure towered in the doorway, framed in the light. I could not make out any details.

He seemed to sniff the air, then he came toward me and grabbed me roughly, shoving a sack over my face and placing metal shackles on my hands, cinching them far too tightly.

“Come along, little human. We’re going to chat,” he growled, sending dread spiraling through me.

He lifted me to my feet and dragged me after him, using the shackles to direct me. He moved so fast . . . too fast. I fell, banging my knees on the hard stone, only to have him jerk me back up, feeling like my shoulders were being ripped out of their sockets.

“I can’t move that fast,” I pleaded, but to no avail. He continued to lead and half drag me down a long, painfully hard hallway.

By the time he stopped, my knees felt swollen and bruised. The shackles were lifted over my head, pinning me against an upright metal stand.

Finally, he tore the hood off from over my eyes and I got a good look at my captor. He was tall, with wide shoulders and long, stick straight, white hair. His face was handsome, his skin neon yellow with strong, angular features, but on one side, he bore a gnarling tattoo of dead looking branches that crossed his cheek and down to his neck.

He placed a pair of protective glasses on his face and meticulously slid his hands into two rubbery gloves. My heart raced. I had a feeling this was not heading in a positive direction for me.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, unable to control the impulse to question, even in the clearly dire circumstances I found myself in. I knew Pavar and his brothers would face some resistance, but somehow, we had fallen headfirst into a nightmare.

He clucked his tongue. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I do the asking around here . . . my friends and I, that is.”

I watched as he slowly unlatched a steel box and set it on the metal tray table beside me. Sitting down before me, he began to pull tools out, one by one.

“This is a warmup here,” he said, lifting a long, sharp metal hook. “He’ll find out how you got here, who you are, those sorts of general details.”

I struggled with the shackles, but they were firm and the man just shook his head.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please just let me go,” I lied. I wasn’t going to tell this dickwad anything, but I knew how to read other people’s expectations.

“Well, aren’t you so helpful? How about you tell me who you are, and then one of my friends will make sure that’s the truth?”

“My name is Denise Mercury, a human from Earth Federation. I haven’t done anything wrong. Isn’t there someone I can talk to and explain my situation?”

“Indeed, and that person is me. Thank you for cooperating, Denise, but sadly, that’s just not going to be enough. See, we know there is more to you than that. We know you’re helping the exiled princes, and my job is to find out why.”

He pulled out another tool. “Now, that’s a more interesting detail, so we use a more interesting tool,” he said, showing off a long, thin, barbed metal wand.

He trailed it along the fabric of my sheath, catching and ripping the fabric and scratching at the skin underneath.

Suddenly, a loud scream reverberated into the room from somewhere down the hall. It was deep, masculine, agonized, and it lasted uncomfortably long.

My tormenter laughed. “Do you hear that? He wasn’t cooperating enough either. That is the sound of Prince Pavar facing justice. His dissent against the king and Dragselia has earned him an unpleasant future.”

I realized with horror that the voice I heard shouting in pain truly was Pavar’s, and my heart felt like it stopped.

The white-haired man looked at me through the reflected lenses of his eyewear and seemed to be enjoying the despair on my face.

Reaching out with a curved knife, he trailed it along my collarbone and ripped at the sleeves, sending the garment drooping forward, exposing my chest.

As he slid the blade along my thin skin, I felt the warm trickle of blood as the ultra-sharp edge just barely sliced me.

“Pity you threw yourself in with a group of traitorous exiles like them. What was the plan? Were you going to take out the king and his bride and stage a takeover?”

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, his words punctuated by Pavar’s cries of pain, I cracked, despite myself.

“No, no, you don’t understand. We were just coming to warn the king. There is a threat coming, and while you’re here torturing us over some misconstrued belief that they came here to stage some kind of takeover, there are actual demons coming to overthrow your king.”

Snickering, he asked, “Is that so?” Then, with one gloved hand, he reached up and lowered his glasses.

From behind the mirrored lenses, I saw the wicked look of fiery red-orange eyes and I knew. Pavar had been right about not being able to trust anyone. The Infernians were here. I scrambled to think of a way out of the situation.

Infernians hated Dragselians, and the hatred was seated in a deep-rooted sense of political injustice. I had been a reporter long enough to know how ego and politics worked. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.

Reaching deep within myself, I found that box where I kept the vulnerable side of myself, the side that was terrified and traumatized by the sounds of Pavar’s torture, the side that was scared and hopeless. I found the box and I put it away.

“Do you see now, little human?” he asked, his ego demanding my terror and recognition. “You’ve been fed all these lies, so much filth about these Dragselians, and you don’t even know the horrible creatures you are fighting for.”

“I’m not fighting for them. I’m a reporter. They crashed on Vaxivia, and I’m following this story. I injected myself into their mission so that I could expose them for the monsters they are.” The words felt awful leaving my lips, but I knew by his expression that I was saying the right things.

He nodded. “Well, maybe you’re not so simple after all, then. What did they tell you? What trash did they feed you about us?”

“Well, for one, they said you are hideous, but you’re quite handsome. I don’t understand why they would lie about that,” I said, letting one corner of my mouth lift slightly.

He seemed to preen under the attention. “The only hideous creatures are the Dragselians.”

“I only know what I’ve been told. Clearly, it has been nothing but Dragselian propaganda. Tell me more. I will gladly publish the truth to all of Earth Federation. The galactic community deserves to know the truth if the Dragselians are really so depraved.”

He seemed to consider this, pausing and glancing toward the door.

“Perhaps,” he said, getting up and sending the torture instrument clattering onto the metal tray.

Pavar’s cries had finally stopped, but I wasn’t sure if that was a relief or even more terrifying.

My tormenter went to the door and left, leaving me exposed and hanging. I wasn’t necessarily limber, but my feet were unsecured, and I tried to quickly reach out with and grab one of the blades with my toes.

Instead, the tray fell over, sending everything loudly clanking onto the stone ground.

When the Infernian returned, he took stock of the situation and laughed.

“Humans are odd creatures. The king will see you. He is looking forward to your audience. In fact, he’s bringing along your Dragselian friends to listen to your interview.”

He unlatched the shackles from the metal table and pulled the sheath dress, now dotted with the few drops of blood, back over my chest, securing it in place.

“We’ll need to make you presentable, I suppose,” he said, throwing a cloak over my shoulders.

As he led me down a series of roughly hewn stone halls, I braced myself for the act to come.