Nalea stood frozen as Hillas’ fingers ran across the dark surfaces of the box. A glow emanated from the box as it began to hum. She covered her eyes as the familiar thrum that powered all their ships brushed over her.

This changes everything.

If Hillas could recharge the power cells, the Draeken core ship would be unstoppable. The people on this world would be doomed. Even with few numbers, the Draeken could turn humans into slaves. It’d be Sephia all over again.

“It’s been tested? It works with our technology?” Roden asked. His voice was steady, yet she could sense his unease. He, too, knew the implications, and wasn’t happy.

Hillas beamed like a happy child. “The power cells work. It was simply trial and error to find the right solar frequencies.”

Roden spoke. “How long before you have enough power cells to eliminate our power shortage?”

“Not long now,” Hillas replied. “The Sephians will run out of power within weeks. Once they can no longer contact Sephia, nothing stands against me. This world is rightfully mine. She”—he gestured to Nalea—“must die today. But you, Roden Zyll, for your treachery, I will keep you alive just long enough to witness my glory.”

She turned to Roden, and they exchanged a knowing glance. Battle-born, they both had an innate sense for timing. Roden pushed backward, knocking the guardsman off-balance. He pulled out his sword and killed one in a blink of an eye. He’d taken down the second guardsman by the time Nalea threw the shock baton.

Hillas roared in pain when the baton hit him, sending small lightning bolts of current over his skin. The baton clanged to the ground as Nalea launched at the Grand Lord, gripping the small blade Roden had given her. Hillas had no time to react. She tackled him, and he clawed at her flesh. Her first stab at his heart missed when he shoved at her, and she hit a lung instead. He grunted then started to yell something. Whatever he was about to scream was cut off when she sliced his throat from ear to ear.

Blood sprayed out from his jugular, splattering her face and covering her hand, causing her hold on the blade to slip. She stayed on him, pushing his hands away as he weakly pushed against her. After wiping her hand and the blade on his chest, she gripped the knife again.

It was a small blade—she’d have to go deep. Taking a deep breath, she plunged the blade into his heart, making certain not to miss this time. His hands wrapped loosely around hers, which were still around the blade. He looked genuinely confused as the life ebbed from his eyes.

She watched him die. You’re not immortal. You die just like anyone.

There was no sound other than the ringing in her ears. She stared blankly at the Draeken beneath her. She brushed aside a blood-soaked strand of hair from his face. This was the lord who she’d spent a lifetime running from, a lifetime dreading. Covered in blood and lifeless, he didn’t look like the great Draeken leader who’d raped her mother. He didn’t look like a monster to be feared. He looked just like any other dead Draeken.

She pushed to her feet and stumbled backward. Numbness wrapped around her heart in a loving caress, and she turned in a circle, trying to get her bearings. In a daze, she stared at the scene for a second or more before she remembered that she wasn’t alone with Hillas.

The floor was littered with winged bodies. In the center of it all stood Roden, covered in blood and swinging his sword, slicing through tendons and muscles as another guardsman attacked. His opponent fell in a heap.

Roden glanced back to Nalea. Splattered with blood, she watched him move like a dancer. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she leapt forward. “Behind you!”

Five more guardsmen rushed through the door. Roden took out one before the guardsman could fire. Another one got off a shot before Roden skewered his heart. Agony burned through Nalea’s shoulder, and she cried out at the same time Roden snarled.

She grabbed at her shoulder only to find the skin smooth. Confused, she looked up and realized that she hadn’t been shot; she’d felt Roden get shot.

The remaining three guardsmen dropped their weapons and went for their swords. They surrounded Roden, ignoring the practically weaponless Nalea to focus on the greater risk. Their mistake… She rushed forward and grabbed the wing of the guardsman who foolishly gave her his back. He twisted around as she slid her small blade into his liver. He went down, giving her a better angle to swing around and slice her taller opponent’s throat.

Roden closed the ranks with Nalea at his side and held out his sword. “The Grand Lord is dead. Drop your swords,” he commanded.

Neither of the two remaining Draeken dropped their weapon immediately. They both looked around the room, and it was almost comical how both attained the same expression when their gaze fell on the body behind Nalea.

One guardsman dropped his sword and bowed. The other lunged forward. Fool, Nalea thought as Roden parried the blow. Even with his injury, Roden swept to the side and made a direct hit to his opponent’s side. The guardsman fell to the floor and Roden lifted his blade, bringing it down into the guardsman’s heart, making it an honorable death.

Roden smashed against the wall. “Secure the door,” he ordered to the only remaining guardsman, who obeyed without question.

Roden turned around and slid his sword into its scabbard, and Nalea rushed for him just as he started to sway.

“You got him?”

She nodded, glancing back. A river of blood continued to trickle from the dead guardsman’s neck.

“Good,” Roden said with a wince.

Nalea examined his wound. The skin was charred, but it’d been a clean shot through his shoulder and wing and into the wall behind him. He flexed his wing and winced again. “We have to get you medical attention,” she blurted out.

“After we get out of here,” he muttered. “Things will be chaotic for several hours. We need to ensure your safety.”

Nalea eyed the other Draeken in the room. The young guardsman looked scared, but she couldn’t fault him that. “You’re safer if you come with us.”

The guardsman gulped, and then nodded.

She paused, then turned and headed back to Hillas’ desk. Bending down, she picked up the power cell and strode back to Roden. “Now we can get out the hells out of here.”

A whoosh behind her brought both her and Roden around to see the wall open, and they found themselves facing the nasty ends of at least a half dozen blasters and several swords. Guardsmen filtered in and made room for an older Draeken to stroll through the middle. “Greetings.”

Nalea gasped. Impossible. She felt Roden’s frustration as strongly as her own confusion. “How can it be?” she whispered.

“Hillas’ body double. Don’t worry. You got the right one,” Roden replied, attempting to step in front of her to protect her, only to have her move to cover his front. “I didn’t realize you survived the trip, Otas.”

“I think I’ll go by Hillas now. And that’s Grand Lord to you. Or, Your Highness, if you prefer,” he sneered. He then motioned, and a shot was fired. The guardsman at Roden’s other side collapsed with a thud. “I should thank you, Roden. I’d been looking for the right way to make the change more permanent for some time.”

“The people will see through your disguise,” Roden countered.

“They haven’t yet,” Hillas smiled. “I believe my people will gladly continue to follow Hillas over you. Look around you. The Draeken people have been swallowed by chaos. They need something consistent in their lives. Even the Grand Lord’s guardsmen see the logic.”

Nalea spoke. “The Grand Lord is dead. There’s no reason to follow his doomed plan.”

Otas took a step forward. “He knew what was needed to keep our people strong. The plan will work. It’s infallible.”

“The people won’t follow you once they read the communiqués,” Roden bartered.

“Ah, yes, the communiqués,” the new Hillas replied. “Fortunately, I learned of them in time to intercept your second communiqué.”

“But the first one was delivered,” Roden rebuked. “Meaning the Draeken people know that you have Nalea and me. If you kill us, you won’t like their response.”

Otas nodded. “I’m no fool. That’s why you are both players in my plan. That I wasn’t born Hillas Puftan won’t matter for much longer.”

Roden barked out a laugh. “You’re a fool.”

“I’d rather die than serve you,” Nalea shot out, trying to buy time to figure out an escape.

“Oh, you will do exactly that,” Hillas’ doppelgänger replied with scorn. “You will serve me or die.” He motioned to the guardsmen.

Roden lunged forward to protect Nalea, but it was too late.

The guardsmen opened fire.