“No.” Ryke strode across the chart room and back to Anguissa’s side, his annoyance clear. “This isn’t the course I programmed at all.”

“Are you sure?”

He glared at her. “Of course, I’m sure! I don’t make mistakes, Snake-Eyes.” He strode across the hologram, indicating a system. The word “Centurios” appeared above the largest planet in that system. Anguissa looked left and right. That planet wasn’t anywhere near their apparent destination.

Bakiel moved away from the wall, his concern clear. “Where are we going?” he asked. “And why?”

“So, that’s why the jumps aren’t so small,” Anguissa mused. She went to the end point. “Formican,” she read from the displayed label, answering Bakiel. He looked shocked.

“No!” Ryke said. He was furious. “I don’t understand how this can be. Did you touch the nav?”

“Of course not!” Anguissa was thinking. She spun to face him. “How exactly was it that you were given the job of placing this freighter in its storage orbit around that moon?”

“It wasn’t easy, Snake-Eyes.” He averted his gaze.

“You did what an umbro does,” she guessed. “You invaded the mind of someone in a position of influence, and once you were done, he or she died, bleeding from all orifices.”

Ryke frowned. “No. That would have been obvious and I’d told them I wasn’t an umbro. That would have shown I was lying to them.”

“I can smell what you are.”

“They couldn’t.”

“Then how?”

“I can be persuasive, Snake Eyes.”

Anguissa felt her eyes narrow. “I would never have guessed.”

She could see that Ryke was uncomfortable talking about it, and Bakiel was surprised. “Why this ship?” she asked quietly.

Ryke shoved a hand through his hair. “Because Bakiel was in statis on it and I had to help him.”

“You did that much for a friend?”

Bakiel dropped his gaze, hiding his thoughts. Anguissa suspected she was missing some detail about the relationship between these two but she didn’t know what it was.

“Anyone would,” Ryke said, trying to deflect the question.

She didn’t know nearly enough about umbros or Centurios. It was a rotten time to be without her personal assistant. “Most wouldn’t. Why, Ryke? Tell me!”

Ryke confronted her, his voice a low growl. She liked how he towered over her and that he was fearless in disputing anything with her. That didn’t happen often to a dragon princess. “Because he was the only one who tried to help me when the Gloria Furore captured me. What kind of a person would abandon a friend who was that loyal?”

Anguissa liked that answer better than either of her suggestions or suspicions. “And no one knew of the connection between you?”

“Of course not!”

“And yet, this freighter was stocked with troops after you left it, troops programmed to attack you.”

Ryke folded his arms across his chest. His eyes gleamed as he tried to solve the riddle. “They were probably programmed to attack anyone who boarded the ship, Snake-Eyes. That’s the style of the Gloria Furore and one of their favorite defense mechanisms. I wouldn’t have known about it, because it wasn’t considered to be germane to the completion of my duties.” He leaned closer. “They didn’t know I planned to come back and steal the ship.”

There was that, but Anguissa was still troubled. “Did you ever consider that your assignment to be the last one aboard this freighter might have been assisted by someone else, instead of the result of your own brilliant planning?”

“No, because it wasn’t.”

Anguissa shook her head. “I think anyone who knew anything about you would guess that you would try to save Bakiel, and that you would come back for him, and that you would try to use this freighter to return to Centurios.”

“I’m not that predictable,” Ryke said, though the heat had left his voice.

“No, you’re honorable, Ryke, and that makes you predictable.”

He looked particularly grim and Anguissa knew he was giving consideration to her conclusion. “Let’s prove you wrong.” He turned and called. “Piper Twelve!”

The android appeared in the doorway to the chart room, though it appeared to be reluctant to cross the threshold. “You summoned me?”

It didn’t call Ryke “sir” this time, which gave Anguissa a very bad feeling.

“What happened to our course?”

“It was revised.”

“Who revised it, Piper Twelve?”

“The commander in authority of the ship.”

“But I’m the captain of this vessel...”

“No, Lieutenant, you have been outranked,” Piper Twelve interjected.

“By whom?” Ryke demanded.

There was a familiar chuckle and one wall of the chart room illuminated, dimming the display of the chart and showing the deck instead. Captain Hellemut lounged in the captain’s chair, smiling. She was as enormous and her smile as malicious as Anguissa recalled.

Was this another doppelganger, or the real Captain Hellemut?

Either way, this was who had arrived by teleport.

“We meet again, Ryke,” she said. “But this time, you won’t be visiting the deck.”

“How...” Ryke murmured, but Anguissa touched his arm.

“Let me guess,” she said to Piper Twelve. “There was no unauthorized use of the teleport because the commanding officer of the vessel used the teleport to board.”

“Exactly,” the android agreed.

“Robots,” Anguissa said softly. “What’s not to love?”

“You are under arrest, Princess Anguissa, for the willful destruction of the Armada Seven,” Hellemut said. “And you, Lieutenant Ryke, are being relieved of your rank, not just for treason but for aiding in the destruction of the Armada Seven. You will be tried on Formican, if you live long enough to arrive there.”

Ryke was particularly impassive, but Anguissa sensed that he was trying to hide his panic.

Piper Twelve spoke from the portal. “You will all be secured in the containment cells until arrival at our destination.” The robot gestured and six androids marched into the room, weapons at the ready.

Anguissa wasn’t going into captivity without a fight.

Ryke stepped ahead of Anguissa to defend her, an instinctive reaction. Bakiel was also behind him. He couldn’t see how they had a chance of evading arrest, but he wasn’t going meekly back to Formican and its moon.

Once had been more than enough.

If he died defending his custo and the mother of his child, that would be the most honorable solution.

As he moved, Ryke glimpsed a shimmer of blue light. The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he turned in time to see Anguissa shift shape. She breathed a torrent of fire at the android guards and flung him behind herself with one claw. It was shocking how easily she did it. Bakiel ran for the far side of the chart room.

Ryke slammed into the exterior wall from the force of her shove and scrambled to his feet. The androids divided into pairs, each pair targeting one of them. One pair scurried toward him. He was surprised that only one carried a weapon, but then he saw that the other had a syringe.

Not again.

He fought furiously then, but the weapon was a stun gun, and one shot took him to his knees. He was reeling and disoriented, his heart pounding hard enough to jump out of his chest. He tried to fight them off, but he felt the needle slide home and knew he was done.

Powerless.

Again.

Ryke raged against the sedative that had to be in the syringe, even knowing his struggle would only make it take effect faster. The androids backed away, leaving him there.

Confident in the result.

He decided he just might hate robots as much as Anguissa did.

The pair confronting Anguissa carried energy beam casters, much like that on the deck of the Armada Seven. Ryke saw the green light at the end of their weapons, but they had no time to loose the energy field on Anguissa. Her shift had taken them by surprise. Anguissa reared up and snatched them both. She smashed them together between her claws, reducing both of them to spare parts with brute force. She flung the pieces into the corridor, and Ryke heard Piper Twelve depart in a hurry.

Bakiel gave a short cheer. He’d been seized by simple force and his hands were bound behind his back. One of his captors punched him in the face and the other punched him in the gut. Bakiel doubled over and fell. He didn’t get up.

Ryke winced that he had failed his custo, again.

Anguissa breathed fire at the two androids responsible. They tried to duck beneath her but lost the battle. She destroyed them thoroughly and flung the parts after the two that had tried to subdue her. The last two androids fled for the portal and secured it from the other side. She breathed fire at the barrier and it glowed red for a moment but didn’t open. She pounded on it just as the display of the planets disappeared from around them.

“What’s happening?” Bakiel whispered, looking up warily.

“Jump,” Ryke managed to whisper.

He was fighting against the drug he’d been given, but losing the battle. The ship lurched hard to one side, sending them slamming into one of the walls. He rolled head over heels and Anguissa was evidently shaken up enough that she shifted shape again.

She fell against him, then turned to look into his eyes. “What did they give you?” she asked, but Ryke couldn’t speak. He managed to lift one hand, but it took a massive effort, and he could feel his eyes closing.

“A sedative,” she whispered. “Why?”

“Prepare to jump,” came the warning from the deck.

“To keep him from slipping,” Bakiel provided and Ryke nodded at the truth.

Hellemut had figured out what he was, which meant his future looked grim.

There were four seats at one end of the chart room, which would have to do for the jump. Anguissa started to drag Ryke toward them but he shook his head. “Bakiel,” he whispered.

“Responsibility first,” Anguissa said, understanding him perfectly. She helped Bakiel to a seat and strapped him down, then returned for Ryke. Anguissa took the seat between them, reaching for the tool compartment after they were strapped in. He wished he could do something to help, but the fog was invading his thoughts.

Anguissa found a universal key and unlocked the shackles on Bakiel’s wrists. He thanked her and rubbed the marks on his skin when he was released.

“Galactic convention,” Anguissa said. “No prisoner endures a jump under restraint. I remember it, even if Hellemut doesn’t.”

The sedative rolled through Ryke’s body, spreading lethargy.

To be powerless was Ryke’s worst nightmare and one he’d never hoped to experience again. To be helpless devastated him. To be used as someone else wished, to be unable to change his fate, to be a victim and an underdog was the most wretched fate imaginable. He fought against his situation, even knowing that there was nothing to be done.

He’d been drugged, again.

He was captive, again.

He’d never escape the Gloria Furore alive. They’d threatened to disembowel him before his own eyes. They’d threatened to kill him slowly, slowly enough that he would feel every instant stretch to eternity, they’d started on that diabolical plan when Hellemut had taken a fancy to him.

He’d been sedated and broken but not so lost that he would risk using his natural gift. He was determined to convince them that he wasn’t an umbro—because he knew that if he confirmed his nature, they would use him as a spy, to target and destroy the enemies of the Gloria Furore. They’d prodded and provoked him, hoping to compel him to try to save himself. Instead, Ryke’s resolve had hardened to steel and he became determined to hide his legacy.

He was sure he’d convinced them.

He was sure it was the reason they’d stopped sedating him.

But now, he was being put under again. Hellemut must suspect his gift.

Would he be used or destroyed? Desperation flooded through Ryke.

Anguissa knew his truth. He hadn’t told her nearly enough, and ironically, she was their only chance of surviving this ordeal. Ryke couldn’t lift a hand or even a finger. He could barely blink. They’d given him enough to stop him but not to kill him—his heart was still beating, albeit slowly, and he was breathing, very slowly. He was just barely alive.

Not unlike stasis.

But his mind was awake and he was aware of everything around him.

He couldn’t save himself. He couldn’t change his situation. He couldn’t even tell Anguissa what he knew.

She said she would be the mother of his second child.

Because of her dragon nature, slipping into her mind could be suicide.

Ryke had never been so conflicted about a choice. Invariably, he knew the right decision immediately, but—like so much else about Anguissa—the situation left him torn.

Was it possible that Bakiel was right? If Anguissa was his luxa and if the old stories were true, she’d survive a slip, regardless of her nature. They’d be able to work together, that was how the fable went. Ryke had never believed it, but he was desperate for options.

Would he survive slipping into the mind of an abomination? Or would she—as those stories went—twist everything he knew to be true so that he couldn’t discern fact from fiction anymore?

The strategy wasn’t without risk for either of them.

But Anguissa embraced danger.

She also liked surviving certain death, and the prospect of celebrating that with her made the choice. Ryke had everything to lose and only one slender chance of success.

He was going to take it.

All he had to do was convince Anguissa that he was right.

Ryke slipped, not quite all the way into Anguissa’s mind, but close enough that she would hear him at the virtual keyhole.

Knock knock, Snake-Eyes.

There was a voice in Anguissa’s thoughts, a voice that sounded a lot like Ryke’s.

She turned toward him, his face close to hers in the darkness, and found a knowing gleam in his eyes. Ryke? She thought the question.

Who else?

But...

The only way our child is going to get out of this alive is if you know what I know, and the only way that can happen is if you let me in.

Anguissa felt her eyes narrow. Let you in?

Give me access to your mind.

I thought an umbro didn’t need permission to slip.

We don’t but I’m asking.

Why?

You know why. Slipping isn’t without repercussions for the host.

Anguissa arched a brow. You’re going to take charge of my mind and body, feed on my spirit, then leave me to die? And you expect me to agree? Not a chance, Ryke...

He interrupted her with a savagery typical of Ryke. I knocked, Princess.

Her heart chilled. That was evidently important, which led to an obvious conclusion. And you didn’t have to?

Ryke’s grim tone was also familiar. We never knock. I vowed a long time ago to be different.

Because it’s your birthright to go where you want, uninvited.

Slip, not go. We call it slipping. And yes, pretty much.

Anguissa stilled. Who are you, Ryke?

There was amusement in his reply. Is the answer the price of admission?

Pretty much.

You’re no pushover, Princess. I like that. But you’ve almost guessed.

King of the umbros.

Something like that.

Anguissa realized that he’d agreed very easily, for Ryke, and felt her suspicion rise. What did he know that she didn’t?

That we haven’t got a chance otherwise. These are very long odds.

Anguissa was inclined to agree. No tricks.

Wouldn’t risk it. You’re the best ally I’ve got. She almost heard him chuckle. Is danger really the spice of life? If so, this should be the obvious choice.

Anguissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t a joke. She could die. Her trust in Ryke could be misplaced. If she declined, though, he could just slip into her mind anyway. And given the situation, they were all as good as dead.

Danger it would be. All right then. Come on in, Ryke, but don’t make me regret this.

The invasion chilled her mind and she couldn’t suppress a shiver of dread. There was something wrong about him being there, and she felt his presence so keenly that her thoughts actually seemed crowded. She found herself compartmentalizing her memories, thoughts, and observations, as if she was locking away her own secrets to protect them from him.

Don’t fight it. I’ll be as unobtrusive as possible.

Anguissa forced herself to relax. And then?

And then we’re going to jump. Get ready, Snake-Eyes. He paused and she wondered why. There was doubt in his tone when he continued. I’m not entirely sure how this will work.

His admission sent fear through Anguissa. You said abominations can defy umbros.

The upside is that it hasn’t killed either of us so far, but we could still go insane.

Anguissa caught her breath. She knew that Ryke hadn’t made the choice lightly and respected his understanding of the risks—and the possibilities.

We or me?

We, you, me—all combinations are possible. Sadly, I have no ability to see the future. Do you?

No and you know it.

His tone was wry and confident again. True. I did peek.

Anguissa swallowed and faced the facts. She wasn’t going to think too much of having a ruthless umbro in her mind who could easily kill her. She was going to think about Ryke and what she knew about him, about the way he went back for Bakiel, about her conviction that he’d keep his word. She felt him waiting on her reply and let herself scoff. And I let you in.

He chuckled. Exactly.

They jumped and Anguissa lost awareness of her situation, just as she always did.

And then she found herself where she’d never been before.

In more ways than one. She guessed that she was visiting Centurios—and she was doing it by sharing Ryke’s memories.

She watched avidly, wanting to learn as much as she could about her enigmatic partner.

The crowd was restless.

Hungry.

A network of corridors and rooms, even prison cells, ran beneath the seating of the massive forum in the capital city of Centurios. Even through the layers of rock, the shouts of the attendees could be heard. The stamping of their feet made the walls shake. The air was filled with their shouts and their bloodlust.

“They’re turning them away at the gates,” Bakiel said, his pale eyes flicking as Ryke checked his armor. There was a lot less of it than he would have liked, but there were regulations. “The stands are overflowing.”

“They expect a bloodbath,” Ryke murmured.

“I hope they don’t get one.”

“You’re not alone in that, my friend.”

“You don’t have to do this, Ryke.”

“Yes, I do.” Ryke had no doubt. Without this fight, without winning this fight, he had no future on Centurios. “It’s my father’s challenge.”

“But...”

“But after all these years of wanting the opportunity to prove myself, I can’t argue over the details. I asked. He gave. It’s his way.”

Bakiel’s lips tightened to a thin line, but he refrained from commenting. Ryke knew that his custo wasn’t fond of the current emperor’s tactics, but if he said as much aloud, particularly here, Ryke might not be able to defend him. He was glad that Bakiel kept quiet.

“One knife, one sword, one mace, one shield,” Ryke said, turning before Bakiel. “It’s all I get, so I’ll have to make it do.”

“They say it’s a hydra.”

Ryke eyed his loyal companion. “I didn’t think they existed.”

“Maybe not the best time to find out,” Bakiel said, then gave Ryke an intent look. He offered a length of cloth, and Ryke considered all he’d been told about hydras.

Poisonous breath.

Deadly blood.

Regenerating heads.

They were abominations.

“That’s just a myth,” he said to Bakiel. “If its breath is really toxic, a bit of cloth won’t save me.”

“This bit will.”

Ryke took the cloth and examined it. It was very soft, but so finely woven that he couldn’t even see the threads.

“Filters,” Bakiel mouthed.

Ryke supposed it couldn’t hurt. He tied it around his face, covering his mouth and nose.

“You know, you could always slip...”

“No,” Ryke said, stopping his custo before he finished the suggestion. “I made a vow to myself and to Ryko Primus and I’m not going to break it now.”

“Even to survive?”

“I’ll survive. This is just a fight. A spectacle. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“I suspect it’s a lot more than that,” Bakiel muttered. “I’ll be ready in case you change your mind.”

Ryke smiled. “Standing over me in the arena with a hydra attacking? I wouldn’t ask that of you, my friend.”

There was a knock on the door, which ended their discussion. Ryke wasn’t going to cheat and use his gift to slip into anyone. He was going to win.

In his father’s view, only might made right.

They left the room together to find the corridor to the arena lined with gladiators. They were burly men of various heights, each tanned and fit, with an impressive number of scars. They wore the same minimal armor as Ryke—helmet, breast plate, boots, gloves, and a guard over the groin—albeit with variations of color and style. Some had blue tattoos. Some had long hair and others were shaved bald. The hue of their skin varied from pale gold through to black and shades of blue. All of their gazes were assessing as they surveyed him in silence. He expected them to despise him, a son of privilege come to play at the sport that was their life.

It wasn’t a game, though.

It was his chance.

He could be killed, just as they could be killed each time they entered the arena. They had the danger in common. The difference was that victory would grant him the opportunity he craved, while their triumphs only ensured they could fight again the following day.

They might hate him for that, too.

He respected them, but didn’t expect that to be mutual. He nodded to the first man then headed for the patch of sunlight at the end of the corridor and the impatient roar of the crowd.

“May Mercado smile upon you,” the man said gruffly, and Ryke glanced his way in surprise.

“And upon you,” he replied by rote, amazed when the man bowed.

“We are with you, sir.”

Ryke was surprised by the honorary address. “All warriors on Centurios are equal,” he said gently.

The gladiator smiled. “Some more equal than others, sir.” He gestured to his comrades, saving Ryke from commenting. “Centurios would prosper beneath your hand.”

“I will endeavor to see that it does, if such opportunity comes to me,” Ryke replied carefully. There was spies everywhere in his father’s realm, and he would not see anyone condemned for treason.

Winning this day was only the first step in earning the succession from his father.

Ryke would win.

He bowed in turn. “Thank you for your kind words, sir.”

He saw that the gladiator was as surprised by the use of the honorary address as Ryke had been himself.

When he turned, the gladiators had all swept off their helmets. They bowed as he drew alongside each one of them, one after another, the same blessing crossing their lips. Ryke’s heart squeezed that they gave him this unexpected salute, and he paused on the threshold of the arena for one last backward glance.

“May Mercado smile upon all of you, in all the battles of your lives,” he said, then pivoted and stepped out into the sunlight. Bakiel remained behind, of course, so Ryke was alone on the pounded dirt of the arena when he heard the metal grate drop into place, securing the exit. He didn’t have to look to know that Bakiel was clinging to the bars, watching him, and that the gladiators were clustered behind him.

The arena seemed much larger than he remembered, vast beyond belief, and he could scarcely comprehend how many people were in the stands that rose around the perimeter. Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, all screaming, all on their feet, all stamping and shouting.

His name. They were shouting his name.

“Ryke. Ryke. Ryke.” It settled into a rhythmic repetition, like the beat of a song, and Ryke walked to the middle of the arena, keeping pace with their cry.

He paused, turned, and identified the emperor’s box. He bowed to his father and whoever else might be there.

“May Mercado smile upon you!” came a cry, and Ryke’s heart stopped at the familiarity of the young voice.

Ryko Primus was here!

His gaze raked the crowd, the imperial box, and landed upon the boy at the emperor’s side. His son’s hair golden in the sun, his face alight with excitement, his energy almost impossible to contain. He waved with enthusiasm, and Ryke felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

His son was watching.

He had to win.

Then the metal grate at the far end of the arena was raised, the gate that secured the pit of the beasts. It was four times wider than the one Ryke had used to enter the arena, and five times as high. The crowd fell silent as something roared from within that pen.

It sounded wild and large—and angry.

The hydra erupted from the doorway, its seven heads turning this way and that as it surveyed the arena. The crowd gasped at the sight of it. The beast roared and its tail slashed the air. It was huge, far bigger than Ryke had imagined such abominations might be, and when its gaze locked upon him, his blood ran cold. He planted his feet against the dirt, gripped his shield and held his blade aloft as the creature advanced upon him.

Ryke’s son?

His father, the emperor?

His custo?

Anguissa had questions for her questions, but Ryke’s memory unfolded so quickly in her thoughts that she had no time to ask them. She was experiencing his memory, not just seeing and hearing it, but sharing his thoughts—at least as many as he did share. Knowing Ryke even as little as she did, Anguissa guessed that what she could hear of his thoughts was just scratching the surface.

Yet at the same time, her own mind was present, observing and coming up with endless questions. She hadn’t had much time to think about it, but she would have speculated that in slipping, Ryke’s thoughts would replace her own and that at best, she’d be able to observe his memory. She’d anticipated that it would be like a memory dump between androids and that she’d have to review it later to make sense of it.

If he left her that opportunity.

I could push you out completely, Snake-Eyes. Ryke’s thought echoed within her own. But it’s not my way to wear out my welcome.

You mean you might need to come in again.

There was a thread of humor in his tone. Anything is possible.

The arena was large and had a sand floor. There was seating all around it, tier after tier of seating, packed with observers. She couldn’t even guess how many had attended but there wasn’t room for one more person—which said a great deal about the appeal of the fight. Even though the air was hot, there were twin fires burning in massive brass bowls, one on each side of arena at the midpoint. The sky was dark overhead. Ryke had emerged from a door at one end and faced a much larger metal grate at the opposite end.

The crowd chanted his name. Flowers fell from the stands to land in the dirt around him. Halfway up the stands on the left, she could see an elaborate platform of gilded wood, with a striped canopy protecting its occupants from the sun.

The imperial box.

She almost felt him catch his breath as the hydra appeared. It was a fearsome creature, with seven heads and an enormous lashing tail. Its scales were dark silver but dulled, like tarnished metal.

Any battle tips would be appreciated. I lost. Badly.

Anguissa looked more closely. There was something wrong with the hydra. It looked hungry to her and there was desperation in its survey of the crowded arena. How long had it been in captivity? How much had it been fed? She could see its ribs and knew it hadn’t been enough. A hydra needed water and she guessed it hadn’t seen any in a while. She could also see some scabbed wounds on its belly, and one claw was maimed, as if it had been broken and hadn’t healed properly. Its yellow eyes were dull, perhaps indicative that it had been drugged, and two of its heads swayed unsteadily.

The creature was dead on its feet.

Trust you to take its side. Ryke apparently could hear her thoughts, too. Sympathy was a galaxy away for me.

The crowd shouted when the hydra didn’t move and someone threw something at it. Whatever it was bounced off the creature’s back. A shudder ran down its length and it stood suddenly taller. It glared upward, its tail swished, then the gaze of its primary head locked upon Ryke.

Its eyes shone brilliant gold, filled with malice and fury.

Anguissa definitely felt Ryke shudder. She frowned, studying the hydra, which could have been a different creature than the one forced into the arena. It raged and thrashed its tail, snatching at spectators with its claws and invoking terror in the arena before it bounded toward Ryke.

What happened there?

It saw me, Snake-Eyes. Ryke’s tone was impatient.

No. Something changed.

It’s a hydra. Who knows how many brains it has?

Anguissa fell silent, not convinced.

Despite Ryke’s trepidation, in the memory, he lifted his blade and stepped forward, daring the hydra with a roar. He was courageous, she’d give him that. The crowd cheered. The hydra bellowed, its other heads turning swiftly to focus upon Ryke. Two heads screamed as the creature moved toward him and the primary head bared its teeth, bending down to bite Ryke.

The crowd was on its feet, shouting encouragement to Ryke. That chant of his name filled the air and Anguissa understood that he was popular.

Why was the emperor’s son fighting a hydra in the arena?

Ryke jabbed his sword into the hydra’s mouth and black blood gushed from its tongue. It flowed quickly, making the sand slick beneath Ryke’s boots. The hydra screamed, releasing a torrent of foul breath, confirming Anguissa’s suspicion that it hadn’t been fed well. It snatched, seizing Ryke with one claw and squeezing tightly. Anguissa could feel the pain in Ryke’s gut as the crowd hooted in sympathy. He writhed in the creature’s grasp, struggling against its grip, and managed to stab the hydra in one snout.

The hydra hurled him to the ground so that the breath was forced out of him.

Ryke didn’t move, apparently stunned by the blow. The crowd fell silent, their agitation palpable. Anguissa noticed that the boy who was Ryke’s son was pale, gripping the edge of the imperial box as he watched.

Oddly enough, there was no sign of the emperor. No, he was further back in the imperial box, and appeared to be sleeping.

Sleeping? While his son fought for his life?

His interest is only in triumph. Might makes right, and failures aren’t worth his attention. I let him down. It stands to reason he wouldn’t watch.

Anguissa didn’t comment on that, though she understood that Ryke considered himself one of the failures, by his father’s definition.

Stab up, Anguissa thought when the hydra’s belly reared over him.

In the same instant, Ryke did drive his knife upward, but it was deflected by the scales, only managing to make a scratch and feed the hydra’s wrath.

Further back, Anguissa thought. Where the gaps between the scales are greater. Near the genitals.

I don’t even want to think about being stabbed in the genitals.

You’re lucky you still have a chance to think at all. Anguissa watched the hydra rage at Ryke. He lost his knife when it reacted to his scratch upon its belly, the hydra seizing the blade and hurling it across the arena. Anguissa didn’t think Ryke had enough space to swing his mace, but he managed it and the blow landed in one of the hydra’s eyes.

The creature screamed, blood flowing from that eye, and Ryke swung again.

Its primary head was blinded, but that didn’t stop it from biting in Ryke’s direction. He was seized and held aloft, but waited until the second head turned before he swung the mace. It landed on the brow of that head, which crumpled to the ground.

Now, Ryke was the one who seemed to catch his second wind. The hydra dropped him and he ran to pick up his fallen sword. He had time to snatch it up and swing before the hydra pursued him. With impressive might, he sliced off one of the seven heads.

The crowd roared their approval. Anguissa heard drums beating and the chant of Ryke’s name began again.

Seven more heads sprouted from the hydra’s wounded neck, each of them as large as the original, each snapping and snarling, but Ryke was undeterred. He swung his mace and sliced with his blade, backing the hydra toward one of the bowls of fire. After another blow, it seized his mace and ripped it from his hand, casting it into the crowd. There was a scream from one of the observers and a gasp of horror—and Ryke made the mistake of glancing away from his foe.

Ryke! Anguissa screamed a warning just before the hydra attacked.

Ryke had thought his loss in the arena had been humiliating, but it was a thousand times worse to review his failure while Anguissa was sharing his memory. Despite what he knew about her nature, she was a woman—and it was only natural to want to impress her.

Not show himself to be a loser.

Slipping was a one-way transaction—the umbro witnessing and influencing the thoughts of the host—but just as he’d feared, it was different with an abomination.

A beast mind.

Unpredictable. Unruly. Defiant of all rules.

Not only had Anguissa shared his nightmare, but she’d conversed with him and shared the horror of his dream. He’d meant to share details of Captain Hellemut with her by slipping into her mind, not for her to learn of his failures.

Was it because they’d jumped sooner than had been his flight plan?

Or was it something else?

She couldn’t be his luxa. Ryke shied away from the ridiculous explanation. She had to have manipulated his memory, or maybe even him.

Just as he’d always been warned.

Would she twist his recollection of what he knew to be true, and convince him that fiction was fact?

Ryke awakened in the chart room, damp with perspiration, still shaking from the memory of that day. He’d spent months healing and rehabilitating, which had only reinforced his father’s conviction that he was unworthy.

Anguissa’s head was on his shoulder, her snakes completely still for once. Even knowing what he did, he found his body responding to her warmth and her scent. He wanted her, again, which was all the evidence Ryke needed that the old stories were true. Bakiel was snoring softly on her other side. Ryke made to retreat from Anguissa’s mind, sure he could slip away while she was still recovering from the jump.

He was wrong.

Don’t go. I have questions.

It doesn’t say anywhere that I have answers, Snake-Eyes. Ryke knew he sounded as agitated as he felt.

Anguissa twisted to meet his gaze and he was struck again by her beauty. Her eyes looked different, though, her thoughts hidden from his view, and Ryke stared because he’d never seen her look that way. She was always open and honest, and only now did he realize how important that had become to him.

Had he taught her to be evasive?

Or had she simply appeared to be guileless? Was that a ruse?

He hoped not, then wondered what was the truth. He reached into her mind, only to discover that there were boundaries he couldn’t cross. There were memories he couldn’t access, and opinions he couldn’t even approach. She’d locked him out of most of her mind.

Had he lost his abilities as an umbro? Slipping was an inherent skill. It was innate, inherited, known and not taught. He couldn’t forget how to do it, even with years of not practicing.

No, the difference was Anguissa—and the shape of her mind.

She smiled. My eyes look like yours, because you slipped into me.

Ryke frowned. I was taught that someone who knew what to look for could see a slipped soul.

You’re embarrassed.

Why wouldn’t I be? You shouldn’t have seen that...

And now I wonder why you’re so cocky.

Ryke stiffened. Because I am the best, I’ve always been the best. Top of the class. Tallest, strongest, brightest. I’ve worked hard for that, because it’s right for the son of the emperor to be better than his peers. I’ve always won.

Until the day it really mattered.

My father was humiliated. I couldn’t blame him for that. He never spoke to me in public again. He relieved me of my imperial duties and took custody of my son, as was only right.

Anguissa was silent for a long moment. You said ‘we’ never ask permission before slipping. Does that mean umbros in general or just those of your lineage?

My father is the emperor. He has the right... Ryke’s thoughts faded to silence as Anguissa shuffled through his own memories.

He was startled that she could do that, but had no time to ask. The host shouldn’t have been able to review or revise his memories. Ryke was supposed to be the influence hers.

At the beginning, the hydra was weak. She showed him the hydra as it entered the arena and he had to agree with her assessment. Its manner did change, as if a jolt ripped through its body.

I told you. That was when it saw me.

No, Ryke. Anguissa showed his quick scan of the imperial box, but slowed it down, lingering on the sight of his father sleeping during the battle. Who’s that? Her attention was fixed on her father’s custo, Wayling.

Standing vigilant, his pale eyes fixed on his patron.

The conclusion was inevitable, if shocking.

Ryke’s father had slipped during the fight.

While Ryke fought for his survival, while he struggled to prove himself, his father had slipped! Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he watched?

Anguissa’s attention returned to the invigorated hydra, the fury in its eyes and its sudden power. Let me guess. Your father didn’t want you to prove yourself worthy.

Her conclusion was obvious and Ryke was shocked again. He wanted to defend his father and that man’s high ideals, but he had no words.

His father had slipped into the hydra, purely to defeat him, and teach him a public lesson. To disinherit him for cause.

But not quite kill you. What a merciful emperor he is. Anguissa’s tone was wry even as Ryke was reeling from her conclusions.

His father had betrayed him.

No! Impossible! He was his father’s heir, his father’s pride and joy. His father had supported him and seen him trained and given him every advantage...

Anguissa snorted. Your father has his own agenda.

She was doing it. She was twisting the truth and making him believe it.

Abomination! Ryke roared and recoiled.

Anguissa was a dragon shifter. He had been warned from childhood of the powers of such a creature. Ryke had always been skeptical of those stories, but Anguissa’s ability to review his memories and manipulate them, as well as her attempts to change his thinking about his own father, were more than adequate proof.

Revulsion rose within him and he felt her flinch. She was right to be afraid. He should exterminate her, start the bleeding, and save himself while he could.

But did she really carry his child? What would be the child’s nature? Ryke didn’t care—he had to ensure the survival of his own child.

Anguissa had to survive so that the child would survive.

If it existed.

He couldn’t kill her until he knew for sure.

It could only be a mark of how much she’d meddled with what he knew to be true that the realization filled him with relief.

He’d have to pretend to believe her conclusions about his father.

Ryke took a deep breath, mustered his thoughts, and remained in Anguissa’s mind.

All he had to do was get back to Centurios alive.

He hoped that he could keep his sanity—and his secrets—that long.