A wall of windows framed the bland cityscape carved out of Irdesi’s mountain range. Sigil stared absentmindedly at decrepit, beige flotsam, at black banners snapping stark in the streets, distracted by the feel of another’s hand carding through her tangled hair.

Warm at her back, the emperor asked, “Might we talk a little longer?”

That was the third time Sovereign had made such a request since she’d willingly followed him into the palace. Every time silence came, every time he lost her attention, he would ask again and she’d respond with, “We can talk.”

“Who is the Convert—”

Sigil’s shoulders stiffened. “You know Elba’s name, her rank, her history. Do not insult me, Sovereign, by pretending otherwise. Tiburon told you where I was.”

Strong fingers tangled near her scalp, Sovereign pulling just enough to draw icy eyes to meet his. “What is it about her that drew your attention?”

Finally, a good question. “The baker’s mind is...” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “...soothing to be near. Enough that I can ignore all the Convert babble your Adherents polluted her with. She’s friendly. She showed me kindness, having no idea who I was—wanting nothing in return. The only other person who’d treated me that way was Que.”

Sovereign’s fingers went to the knots binding a pilgrim’s rags to Sigil’s shoulder. He began to pull at the laces, completely ignoring her mention of the dead Axirlan. “Adherents merely exist to see you protected. You imagine enemies out of accomplices.”

Feeling the knot give, the slide of her dirty cloak being pulled aside, Sigil turned her attention once again out the window. “They exist to assure your godlike stature through a pseudo-religion based on lies.”

Mouth warm on Sigil’s exposed shoulder, Sovereign asked, “And which part is lies?”

Talking was less appealing if he was going to play games. Sigil’s annoyance grew obvious. “If you have a point, Sovereign, make it.”

Teeth grazing her nape, an arm circling her middle to warmly palm a breast, Sovereign created an embrace that could become a restraint should his next words anger the female. “If I were to tell you Adherent preaching is not untrue—at least in the basic sense—I am convinced you will not take it well.”

Sigil curled her lip and cackled. “I am not the compassionate savior of Converts.”

Sovereign’s hold tightened. He spoke as if serious. “Your part in their creation is greater than you realize. At the Cathedral, Elba told you—in so many words—that you reside inside them all. Her claim was not an Adherent lie. Conversion serum is a virus created from your fetal cells. It attacks its host and alters key parameters in human DNA, making them susceptible to herd dynamics and suggestion from beings they recognize on a cellular level as their superiors.”

His hold tightened fractionally, in a strange blend between a hug for comfort and a reminder he was stronger should she think to fight. “Some Adherents would argue they are your offspring—a subspecies edging towards a hive mind that can be further conditioned to mimic our race. Though your virus is milder than those created from males of our kind, our influence—should they survive it—is much more direct and consuming. It serves us all.”

Sovereign had expected an outburst; Sigil’s silence inspired even greater wariness. Asking no questions, making no comments, she stared forward out the window, chewing her bottom lip.

Sovereign’s sigh warmed her ear. “What are you thinking?”

That not once in her existence had her body belonged to her. When she was small, it was a weapon of despots and psychopaths—a toy to torment and train. Left to her own devices, it became a vessel for madness. Sigil could not find herself surprised the Brotherhood had been using her all along. “I am thinking of nothing.”

“I had hoped to discuss this after you’d grown comfortable amongst your family. But you have chosen to seek information, and I will not deny you.” Sovereign kept the words light. “Your friend, Elba, is content. She is content because Conversion saved her from a life of slavery. It gave her purpose, satisfaction to pursue a future she found appealing, while still serving the greater good.”

Sigil breathed, took her time formulating her words. “There are holes in this story, Sovereign. You said fetal cells. How did you have access to such things, yet failed to clone me?”

“Our genetic architecture was constructed in such a way that should we be captured or our corpses recovered, a failsafe assured Alliance enemies would not be armed with Commander Dimitri’s magnum opus of military strength. Our bodies degrade almost immediately at death, tissue samples rendered unstable. When our creator, Dr. Saniel, died on Condor, our secrets died with her. But even if it could be done, I would never clone you. Do you understand that, beloved?”

She understood he was circumventing her question. “Answer me. How did you create the virus?”

There was no artifice Sovereign might employ that would hide from Sigil his discontent in saying, “What we now call the Serum of Conversion existed before the Alliance fell. Dr. Saniel created the original infection. It was fed to every member of Project Cataclysm. As all your Brothers have been exposed, you could say that we were the first Converted—the virus switching on a dormant condition so we might recognize our only female should we come into contact. We were predisposed to insulate our designed killer when she was sent to thin the ranks.”

Sigil turned her head to look out the window. “I remember you in the hall on Condor. I didn’t like the way you looked at me.”

“You were conditioned to suffer detachment when you naturally felt a bond. It’s the only way they could have inspired you to kill us. But when you looked at me that day, your lip shook.”

Lies. Sovereign was telling lies and she didn’t have to listen. “That is not what I remember.”

“It is fact, Sigil.”

“Fact,” the word was spat. “What is fact in this circus?”

The pressure of his body at her back increased, Sigil crushed against every line of him, every muscle. “You would be surprised at how much fact is layered into our myths.”

“Then tell me. Who are the Soshiia?”

What vibrated from him, what hummed through and around her, was dark. “They are your only real chance of escaping the Brotherhood. And should you be foolish enough to pursue them, what they would do to you would be beyond any nightmare you survived on Condor.”

Sigil’s neck craned over her shoulder, her fingers tangling in Sovereign’s black hair. One yank and they were eye to eye. “Enlighten me.”

“No. I won’t tempt a child into snatching up poison she believes are sweets.”

He could be so infuriating! Releasing her clutch on his hair, she took a deep breath. She swallowed. And she forced herself to look away from eyes so gripping it almost hurt to see that depth of blue. He refused to discuss the Soshiia, fine. There was something else —so blaringly obvious—she could sink her teeth into. “It’s the serum that made you think you love me.”

“No.”

Tongue sour, Sigil wondered aloud, “I’m unaccustomed to feeling pity.”

He took her chin and turned it so she would have to listen. “Don’t imagine we were unaware of what the draught was before we swallowed it. Decades of intel, of watching, of plotting... we knew practically every last Alliance secret. Swallowing your virus was willingly done by each of us—planned for. Days later, I entered the labs and changed you just enough.”

She understood what he’d really done that day. “With a serum made from you...”

It was to be a two way addiction. That was the reason his physical release had such power over her, why she craved him.

Sovereign tightened his arms and spoke with confidence. “We were all reborn together, made new.”

Mocking, Sigil asked, “And you just knew how to make a serum?”

“We had a mole in her labs. But there is no point pretending our version wasn’t flawed. No living mind in over a century has been able to match the genius of Dr. Saniel.” He wasn’t sorry, but he was unhappy his strategy had been less than perfect. “High Adherent Corths did his best.”

“You told me he was only a child when the Alliance fell.”

“A brilliant mind is a brilliant mind.” Seeing her concentrating, knowing each developing conclusion was incorrect, Sovereign added, “You were created to tempt me, Sigil. We cannot prove it was the draught that inspired my adoration for the female secluded from us. I had years to think on it as you grew. In the hall, all my previous aspirations for our attachment solidified. Love at first sight is a concept hailed by even the ancients before the humans destroyed Earth. Why can the same not apply to us?”

Sigil could see through sentiment, because she felt none. “Because Dr. Saniel’s draught was designed to inspire that feeling. When Karhl saw me in the yard, when he tried to help me, I felt it from him too—that obsessive infection. Arden was the same...” running through a century of memory in the blink of an eye, one difference stood out. “...Tiburon.”

“Was... immune to any feeling, draught or no. Before you were designed, he was altered to belong to someone else, and she didn’t want to divide his affection.”

What Sovereign hinted at, Sigil found all too easy to believe. “He belonged to Dr. Saniel.”

“Not originally. But by then, he’d been reassigned.”

Because Tiburon had been the leader of Cataclysm once, usurped by an improved model and made into some type of pet by the very woman Sigil watched him massacre. From esteemed soldier to sex slave, the parallel to her life was too familiar. “And because, unlike you, he isn’t compelled to adore me, you question his intentions despite his history of loyalty. He isn’t one of you...”

“He can’t love you. He can only love her... and you killed her.” Sovereign’s hand slid to Sigil’s hip, giving her the opening to shift away should she choose to. “His purpose now is less refined than what the rest of us desire.”

The more she heard, the less Sigil wanted to know. Tiburon’s history wasn’t her business—just as the way he’d tried to help her escape Condor long ago was not for Sovereign to know.  And what of their other dealings, the few times he’d hunted her down? Had he ever intended to catch her, or did he just enjoy the fight? Was his motivation displaced because he felt alone?

“I hear you telling tales.” Smug, smiling like a shark, Tiburon leaned against the archway. “Think to scare her from me, do you Brother?”

The disfigured Lord Commander did not hesitate to approach, to wrap a callused hand in a tight grip around  Sigil’s upper arm and pull her from the Emperor—just enough so she was caught between them.

“Unsalvageable. That’s the slander Sovereign won’t use.” Charmed eyes flashed towards his leader, Tiburon smirking. “A harsh title used to label broken Converts. Considering the same applies to our little slut, here, maybe a sweeter word can be found. How about transfigured? That sounds pretty, doesn’t it? After all, Sovereign’s imperfect serum was unsuccessful in doing anything more than damaging Saniel’s greatest masterpiece.” Those deadly eyes went back to the female measuring his every breath. “You hear that, Sigil? What a mismatched pair we make, and how very threatened they are by it. Whatever we feel for each other... is genuine. I can’t tell you the amount of delight this situation has given me over the last century.”

Sovereign was covering Sigil’s bare shoulder, projecting his temper like a blaring trumpet. “Leave.”

“Let go of your emperor, Sigil.” Tiburon yanked her, his eyes fixing on the mass of Sovereign’s uniform Sigil unknowingly clung to. “I cannot contest a direct order, none of us can—each of us were designed to obey the chain of command. So release your hold on him and come with me. I am eager to have my turn in your company.”

There was the sound of hurried steps before Karhl’s thick arm wound around Tiburon’s throat. “Let her go, Tiburon. You’ve made your point.”

Whatever that point might be, Sigil suspected it was not the most apparent one. No other Brother had dared to enter that chamber, though Sigil sensed many edging nearer.

Feeding off so much animosity, her lip curled, and she stoked the fire. “Tiburon, will you close your eyes while you fuck me? Will you picture Dr. Saniel?”

The male outright laughed, unconcerned Karhl had yet to release his throat.

Sovereign’s touch was all over her, magnified from the simple, possessive hold he’d been fostering during their talk. His lips were at her ear, their words gently insistent. “It is cruel to mock him, beloved. Tiburon is still your Brother, and a great warrior who has reshaped the universe for you.”

The wrong emotion echoed from Tiburon. He was disgusted, even if he simpered and stared.

Looking to the giant, to Lord Commander Karhl, Sigil called to him. “Karhl.”

One name, spoken on a sigh, and the tableau was forced to end.

The white-haired warrior let Tiburon free, and held out his hand to the woman. “You are hungry and need rest. Let us go see to such things.”

His coolness poured through her, Sigil reaching out so he might remove her from the chamber. “I am hungry.”

Karhl took her hand. “Nor have you slept in days. You shall do so by my side once bathed.”

Sovereign said nothing to dissuade Karhl’s course, releasing Sigil even if his touch lingered until she stepped away. All he gave was one word in a promise. “Tomorrow.”

Sigil disappeared around the corner, on the arm of the male both infamous and revered throughout galaxies for the genocide of billions. In that moment, Karhl was most certainly, the lesser of three evils.

***

Stretching—arms over her head, silken sheets at her back—Sigil arched into the touch of a roughened palm skimming her flat belly. Karhl had stroked her for an hour, watching as his attention hardened the tips of her breasts, pinkened her skin, even before Sigil had awoke.

The woman bowed again, and he tasted. One languorous lick, that’s all he offered her pert nipple, abrading the puckered thing with the tip of his tongue.

Dipping thick fingers lower, watching Sigil’s lips part on a perfect intake of breath, Karhl found her dripping wet. “You wake aroused.” Twisting about inside her, pale fingers were removed so the Lord Commander might taste them.

With loss of touch, Sigil reached for his hand, pulling his fingers from his lips so she might put them back to where her clit ached, throbbing where it peeked from its hood.

The female’s impatience inspired the most minuscule of smirks, Karhl freeing his wet fingers to trace lazy circles around rosy nipples instead. “I imagine these swollen with milk.” Sea-glass eyes left her tits, waiting to see if the female might speak. “I long to drink from you...”

They were in her bed, the massive tree branching high above them, the ostentatious decoration blocked from view when Karhl leaned down and sucked a ripe breast into his mouth.

Sigil’s hand threaded into white ropes of hair. She pulled his head from her breast, stared as her nipple popped from wet lips. Something like regret hung between them, created when she’d asked him to leave her alone. But there had been no Brother inside her in several days, and she did crave the touch.

Limpid eyes adored, Karhl asking softly, “Would you prefer I call for Sovereign?”

“I gave him my word I’d be a willing Imperial Consort.”

“Young one, your body responds to me. It has from the first time I touched you.” Palming her hip, rising above her, Karhl continued, “But I will not make love to you because you bear a sense of obligation... so you might live in the city and learn of your people. It would cheapen my faith in your eyes.”

His erection sat heavy on her thigh, Sigil’s attention drawn to its studded beauty. “What if I want you to fuck me? Do you desire to hear me beg like Sovereign does?”

“Is that what he does?”

Her brows creased. “No... yes. Maybe.”

“I’ve watched you mate him. The violence...” Karhl ran his lips over hers. “That will not be what we share.”

Karhl slipped several fingers inside her dripping slit, sharply hooking her pubic bone to reach a wondrous buried nerve. Sigil squirmed and danced, making noises that made his cock jerk. Mouth, neck, ear, nipples—he sucked, chewed, and tasted, grinding his palm against her pussy, rubbing hard inside her to stroke a place no other lover had discovered. When her legs began to twitch, his little Sigil crying out before orgasm might send her past sleepy delirium, Karhl’s manic touch grew rough.

That hint of pain and she lost all control. The mattress grew wet beneath her, his hand dripping her fluids. Soothing the passage that clenched and wept, Karhl assured the woman was pliant, panting, and willing to let him do as he pleased.

If the Lord Commander was not feasting between her legs he was devouring her breasts, those same fingers working inside her to manipulate strange nerves. He brushed aside her touch each time Sigil thought to reach for the pierced organ grown purple with the need to fuck. It was not until she was slick with sweat that he stroked his crown through her folds. Up and down her slit he ran those metal piercings, Sigil angling her pelvis to catch him. But he would not align and enter her.

“Karhl.” Had she really just panted? Had she begged him?

And had he laughed...?

Sea-glass eyes held hers, Karhl bracing his arms beside her head. “I told you I did not need you to beg. My claim that I would not take you unless you wanted me was sincere.”

He was teasing her, and instead of making her angry, it only heightened her desire. “I want you inside me.”

Once it was said, his face turned dark, fiery with the passion of a demon ready to devour another’s soul. That bulbous organ was not offered gently, but shoved forward to fill her so sharply her body shook and her back scoured over the sheets. Had she been lesser, Sigil might have been frightened by the change in the Lord Commander.

Instead, she reveled in it.

He roared as he fucked her, that jabbing pierced cock internally attacking the very flesh his fingers had made sensitive and swollen. And it felt so fucking good Sigil’s eyes rolled back, her claws gripping his ass to urge deeper penetration.

The second it seemed her pussy might draw tight and orgasm, he made her wait, altering his rhythm. He found every sweet spot, his tongue in her mouth and his fingers pulling at her nipples.

It was unlike any fucking she’d ever known—unique in its calculated physiology—Sigil made docile, spreading eagerly, and willing to lie beneath him. She showed no temper, didn’t bite to harm or scratch to draw blood. Instead, she licked at him and whimpered. She stroked and urged.

And the quiet one cooed out nasty words as he promised lust and salvation like fresh water to a woman trapped in the desert. “You love your cunt stuffed full of my cock. I feel you trying to suck me in, greedy because you know I belong there!”

Her mind was on another plane, lips answering on their own. “Harder.”

Five snaps of his hips, deep and punishing.

Overloaded, her moans so shrill the city must have heard, Karhl showed his teeth. He changed the angle back to punish the spongy flesh on the roof of her pussy, savoring when Sigil arched like one possessed. One flick of his finger twisting her clit and what had been a powerful orgasm became all out seizing.

Mouth hanging open, Sigil’s body was flooded with so much feeling, everything else was washed away—just as her pussy was washed when Karhl gushed a mess inside her.

He kept pumping through it, displacing more of his come with each thrust, until her cunt sloppy with it, until her thighs stank of him.

And his sweetness returned while her mind floated somewhere free. Buried hilt deep, soft kisses were pressed on her lips, soft words formed at her ear.

It may have been poetry he whispered to her in that daze. It may have been an update on Irdesian border expansion. Sigil didn’t know.

“...forever.”

She managed the barest of breaths. “What?’

Smug, Karhl dipped his tongue past her lips and swept her mouth with his flavor. “Tell me what you feel.”

His weight was pressing down on her belly just enough so the size of his cock could not be ignored. “I feel full of you.”

“And not just my cock, young one. My offering pools in your belly, shot deep, where I will keep it plugged in that delicious cunt until you absorb my mark.”

It ached beautifully, the places inside her he’d manipulated. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I have practiced on many human women in anticipation of this moment, the technique learned when I claimed the Vuul Palace’s famous archives. Their manuals on sexual method are... intriguing.”

“And the Vuul?”

“There are no Vuul.” Because Karhl had seen every last one of them destroyed as soon as infiltration had uncovered the population was highly resistant to Conversion.

Pinned under a giant, Sigil panted, her hair damp and her sore pussy fluttering each time Karhl’s heartbeat pulsed through his dick. “And how many worlds, how many Vuuls, have you eradicated?”

Karhl, still inflamed by fucking, growled, “As many as it takes to assure you, your children, and our people, will be safe in a treacherous universe. Your skittishness on the subject will alter the instant you feel love for something fragile that could be taken from you, young one. What wouldn’t you do for your child?”

“I don’t have a child.”

He looked at her as if he meant to invoke the name Jerla. Instead, Karhl formulated. “But you will, soon.” Karhl kissed lips grown petulant, easing her back against the pillow. “You have been especially difficult lately, your chemistry odd. Though I have yet to discuss my suspicion with Sovereign, I believe conception resulted from our previous group mating.”

Hearing such a thing made her skin buzz. “You’re wrong.”

“We shall see.” How proud the man could look even while offering practically no expression. “And you will be so happy to hold her.”

***

Sigil allowed the process, Dryden and his Convert attendants dressing her in what was deemed appropriate attire for the Imperial Consort. The white gown was heavy and uncomfortable, enough decorations having been stabbed into her hair that—like the deeply satisfied male watching from the corner—she jingled with each minuscule movement.

Karhl had personally bathed her, prepared himself beside her in a fresh uniform Dryden had carried in.

Sigil had told Sovereign she would be a willing Imperial Consort. Now she was to walk out the massive gateway of the family quarters and parade through gawking subjects.

The sooner it was done, the sooner she could go back to the city—near the baker’s quiet mind.

The attendants helped her off the dais, Dryden swearing she was a vision. Arden was not there to agree.

So long as Quinn was camouflaged under the paint, Sigil welcomed the ridiculousness of it. For once scrubbed clean, her hair set free of the cement worked through it, no court retainer would know her.

It made bearing the weight of a solid metal sunburst on her head far more tolerable.

Picking at the skin around her fingernail, Sigil asked, “They must be done by now. Can we go?”

Dryden interceded, smiling as if everything wonderful was his doing. “I will be with you, should you need guidance. Ask me anything.”

Many nasty retorts sat stinging her tongue, Sigil swallowing them down. “Isn’t that Arden’s job?”

Dryden bowed gallantly, his robes swishing. “The Herald was required for a sensitive diplomatic mission, Sigil. I am afraid he is not here.”

Sigil stopped her parade towards the door, the train of her dress hitching. If Arden was gone, did that mean she would have to deal with Dryden in his place? The High Adherent grated on her nerves. “When will he come back?”

The sparkle in Dryden’s eyes made his joy at the new dynamic obvious. “Sovereign may be better able to answer that question.”

Ignoring the smiling sycophant, Sigil scowled at the Lord Commander. “Karhl?”

“Arden has gone to serve as ambassador before the Tessan Authority. It will be some time before he returns.”

If the Empire was in talks with the Tessans, Arden seemed the natural choice for Herald. But he had been useful to her... and Sigil felt strange to hear he would not be around.

There was no time to frown. The bronze portal spread wide, Karhl setting her fingers on his arm.

There were no humans near the family wing, only the occasional smiling Brother standing guard. Many more she sensed but could not see.

Through galleries and anterooms, chambers and halls, Karhl led her. The farther they went, more overdressed Converts accumulated. Watching her every step, Irdesi’s highest ranking retainers whispered at the sight of her.

The last room was by far the largest, packed and humming with shushed conversation. In that place Sigil ignored all others, because only one had all her attention—a woman with soft grey hair.

A blue sash hung from her shoulders, and unlike most other high ranked ladies, her jewels were few and far between. The woman held the little hand of Jerla, whose tail flicked happily in match to his grin.

“You look funny!”

Sigil took in the child, scrubbed clean and dressed in Imperial black. “Do I?”

The boy repeatedly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “My room is HUGE. Outside there is lots of water that falls down and makes the air wet. But there are no trees...”

Robotically quoting what had once been drilled into her brain, Sigil reached out a hand to take the child. “Irdesi Prime is a planet of rock and water, chosen for strategic purposes in the system’s relation to long ago unconquered human governments. The atmosphere is filtered by algae and moss.”

Jerla was still too enthusiastic to see Sigil’s silent command to come to her. “The Emperor says we get to see the fracturing. Lady Belloy told me it was even more exciting than the waterfall outside my window.”

Lady Belloy? Sovereign had mentioned her before... and her name had shown up more than once in Arden’s histories.

Icy eyes darted back towards the human touching her Jerla, and measured the older woman’s gracious smile. “I have heard of Belloy’s spouse. You are Matron Delphine, the Convert wife granted children with Sovereign’s Brother.”

“Twins, yes.”

Looking over every last inch of the matron, Sigil wondered why that human was more important than the rest. Why she was allowed near, why she was the exception. Why could she wear blue when all others in the room wore black? “You have cared for Jerla since he woke?”

“It was my honor, Imperial Consort.”

The boy seemed happy, his tail swishing in a sure sign of contentment. “She can’t fly, but we played games with numbers. I know twenty now.”

Face blank, Sigil blinked, and extended her palm to the child. “Well done, Jerla. Thank Lady Belloy and take my hand.”

Matron Delphine interjected. “At a later time, may we discuss his course, Imperial Consort? Tutors must be chosen to suit the path you intend him to walk.”

Jerla’s little hand gripped the painted fingers Sigil outstretched, the boy confused. “Why are you covered in white dust. Why is everyone quiet? I want to go outside.”

The chatter made her nervous.

Yellow eyes stared up, Jerla’s brow dipping. “What’s wrong?”

There were so many humans in the halls, all of them watching her. Sigil snapped Jerla up to her hip, his tail already wrapping around her middle, his little hand smearing the script between her breasts.

Lips at the indentation of his ear, Sigil whispered, “Be cautious, Jerla. Not everyone who smiles is a friend.”

Reaching up his scaled mouth to coolly brush her ear, Jerla mimicked her whispering. “She’s nice.”

Sigil’s eyes bored into the placid expression of the matriarch waiting to be dismissed. No drop of suspicion was concealed. “You’ve already won him over.”

A steady reply awaited. “The boy was well chosen, Imperial Consort. He loves you.”

There was that word again. Those four letters held such power.

Sigil turned the weight of her skull to see the child leaning into her shoulder. The little one’s forehead pressed in, his snake-like face hidden as he squeezed.

“I love him too.” Pitiless eyes darted up and circled the crowd, Sigil’s face one of severe warning while she employed that word. “I love him greatly, and I will crush any who think to make use of that love. I would harm your children, your house, your people. I would destroy anything a Convert heart might hold dear, until you were nothing but dust forgotten in history.”

No one in the assembly would meet her eye, all genuflecting just enough to cover shock at the Consort’s outburst. But hearts were nasty things, and the room was pinging with several minds that Sigil knew not to trust.

No living thing was passive when more could be gained. Everyone wanted an edge.

Standing there she saw it. The city below might have been some ideal, but Irdesi’s court was Pax, only much more pretty. But Sigil was no longer the invisible pleasure slave. Now, she was Drinta.

“Imperial Consort,” Karhl retook her arm, allowing little Jerla space between them. “If we linger, we shall miss what Sovereign would share with you.”

He had not called her ‘young one,’ and the alteration hung between them.

The final set of grand doors opened out onto the grandest terrace on the planet. Sovereign waited. As did the population of Irdesi Prime crowded down below.

A little boy who adored without question tugged her clothes. “Look at all those people!”

The Emperor called her forward. “Come now, beloved. Step to the balustrade so everyone can see you.”

Sigil obeyed, her susurrating steps confined by that ridiculous gown.

The air was blazing with cheers, the noise so loud Jerla’s excited chatter could not be heard. Looking to the boy in her arms, seeing his state of bliss, she smiled.

The sky broke, scattering light veining in and out of atmospheric storms. The Converts’ hum vibrated through them all until the world felt perfect—until it was even easy to feel the love she’d claimed she bore the child.

Upturned, inky Tessan eyes looked into hers with so much joy.

That expression sat on his face in the instant of his death. The hum had yet to cease, but pain tore through Sigil’s right lung, the boy in her arms sagging forward, a gaping hole in his back.

“Jerla...?” Blood came from Sigil’s mouth.

His mind was gone from her reach, the broken thing cradled at her shoulder shot straight through. Though the child had taken the brunt of an assassin’s fire, the attack had been well aimed. Wheezing through a collapsing lung, through the fire of torn skin, Sigil stumbled backwards.

The sky was still beautiful.