Nalea knew Roden was escaping when she heard the first shots. His pain flooded her with the tingled sensation again, and his fury tore at her. Of course Roden would escape. Of course he’d leave her behind. With Hillas dead, she was no longer of any value to him.

At least she wouldn’t have long to sulk. The chaos outside her cell was merely delaying the inevitable. She sat cross-legged, arms bound behind her, in the center of the blazing hot cell and made her prayers to the great god of death, Uhl, as she forced her focus away from the bright lights surrounding her and away from the pain and angst coming from Roden.

And so she began to wait…

The night Nalea killed Lord Homs wasn’t called Blood Night, not until days later. Ironic, really. The night started off not bloody at all. All three moons were full, with no clouds to block their pure beauty. Lord Homs had given Nalea a night off from her studies to go for a walk. She’d asked her mother to come along, but Nexa often chose to spend her nights in the company of Homs instead.

Nalea sulked, but Homs was a good lord. He’d been like a father to her. He’d even asked her once to call him so, but she’d snapped at him, and he never asked again. She walked her usual route. All the flowers were in full bloom under the night sky. It was getting late. She was just about to head back when she heard the yells.

Scrambling up the hill, she crawled under a shrub to hide. Fear gripped her. She couldn’t move as she watched the blood-charges rain down on Lord Weer’s estate. Minutes later, Lord Weer was dragged, still in his sleepwear, into the courtyard. A horde of angry Sephians surrounded him. They tied the lord to a tree, and three large Sephian males approached.

In their hands they each bore a blood-whip. With each lash, Lord Weer screamed out in agony. The three continued until the lord cried out to gods he didn’t believe in to help him. No one, not even his servants, came to his aid. Long after Nalea could no longer tell where the blood began and where the skin on his back ended, the Sephians stepped back, rolling their whips and fastening them to their hips.

Lord Weer hung limply from his restraints, moaning and whimpering as the poison coursed through him. The Sephians ignored him, instead talking to among themselves. One of them pointed to the west, and Nalea’s eyes widened. That was the direction to her home!

She shuffled out from the bush and took off at a dead run back to her home. She had to warn Lord Homs! She ran until her chest burned and her breaths came in gasps. She kept running until her legs nearly gave out, but she never stopped. She jogged through the courtyard and up the steps, crying out when she tripped and landed hard on her knee. Pulling herself back up, she reached the top of the stairs and paused, panting.

Turning to the door, she didn’t bother knocking. Just pushed the door open and stepped inside. In a rush, she jumped toward the massive bed. She reached out to wake him and froze, then ran to the window instead. Several vehicles had pulled up outside the estate, and Sephians were pouring out of them.

No! She turned back to Lord Homs, still sleeping soundly in his bed. Thought back to Lord Weer, who was probably still suffering in agony alone, but it was Lord Homs’s face she saw. Homs, the only father she’d ever had, was about to suffer the same fate.

A tear fell down her cheek. Frantic, she searched the room for a place for Homs to hide. Her gaze froze on his nightstand. Silver glinted in the moonlight… The blade he always carried.

With a sniffle, she wiped her nose and stepped closer. Her body was shaking, her breath coming in short pants. When her fingers wrapped around the blade, she bit back a sob. She scolded herself. She had to do this. She had to make sure Lord Homs wouldn’t hurt.

She held the knife out, and then pulled it down and toward her, as though cutting a roast. The cut was deep and jagged. Blood poured forth, looking like a dark river in the moonlight.

Nalea whimpered. The blankets next to Homs moved, and Nalea jumped back. A figure sat up, and Nalea dropped the blade.

Nexa frowned at her daughter, and then saw Homs. She raised a hand to her mouth. “Nalea, what have you done?” Yells from outside pulled her mother’s attention to the window. Splitting her gaze between Nalea and the window, she went to the sill. She gasped. “It’s begun!” she cried out in terror.

She pulled her daughter into her arms. “The death forces will kill me for this!”

Even with tears pouring down her cheeks, Nalea stood firm. She reached up and cupped her mother’s cheeks. “Go. I will hold them off.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide. “I won’t lose you, too.”

She pushed at her mom, knowing that if she delayed, fear would make her change her mind. She bent down and picked up the bloody blade. “Go!”

Nexa glanced back at Homs and sobbed. She took another look at her daughter for a long, frozen moment, then spun and ran out the door. Nalea hastily wiped her tears and followed, but when her mother took the left stairwell, Nalea went all the way down the steps, not stopping until she walked into the middle of the courtyard.

The death force was already pulling together its ranks, and one of the three Sephians stepped forward. She held up the blade. Lord Homs’s crimson blood dripped onto the ground. “We are free.”

Nalea jolted to consciousness at the sound of the door to her cell opening. The lights were now dimmed, and the sounds of fighting had long ago melted into silence. She no longer felt anything from Roden, so he was likely unconscious again. Rather than opening her tender eyes, she laid on her back, unmoving, no need to look up to see who entered. “Hillas, or should I say, Otas?”

“Daughter.”

“Let’s not play games. Hillas is dead.”

The metallic thud of booted feet came closer. Thud. The shuffle of wings.

“Your tahren has abandoned you, just as he’s abandoned his people. The coward fled without even trying to save you. I have it on video if you’d like to see.”

“No, thanks.” She forced her body to remain calm. Breathe. Relax. Breathe.

“I see you’re not surprised.”

“Should I be?”

“Look at me.” When she didn’t, he raised his voice. “I command you to look at me.”

Exhaling, Nalea pushed up to a sitting position. Tired muscles protested the movement. She pried her dry, burned eyes open, and the air assaulted them.

A finger caught a runaway tear. Distorted, Hillas’ face came into view. If she didn’t know better, it almost looked as though he was concerned, though they’d never met before tonight. “They never should’ve left the lights on. It was never my intention to harm you. I’ll see to it that you get medical attention.”

She saw right through his tactics. The old sympathy ploy. “Why should you care?” she countered.

“We are family.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fair enough.” He knelt before her. “I care because we can help each other.”

While she’d spent her life hating Hillas and the Draeken, her hands were figuratively—and quite literally—tied. “Go on.”

“We can help both our people by standing together.” Hillas said. “I have no hatred toward the gold-skins. Together, we can broker a peace.”

She came to her feet and he took a step back. “I saw the power cells. What’s to stop you from just taking what you want?”

He blew out a puff of air. “A wise lord once told me that the threat of power was better than power. He planned to force peace upon this world. Now it is my place to bring peace; one way or another.”

As he spoke, she realized that while he lacked the strength and wisdom of the Grand Lord, Otas had confidence. He just didn’t have the gift for leadership. It was inevitable that he would be discovered for the fraud he was.

She tightened her lips. When that time came, if he wasn’t aligned with a Puftan, he’d be publicly executed. He needed Nalea. Not only was her life safe for now, but she could turn Otas’s weakness to her advantage. “If I play along with your little charade and act the good little Puftan, there can be no further aggressions against the Sephians.”

He balked. “We haven’t attacked the Sephians once since leaving Sephia.”

“You attacked our base,” she countered.

“We had no intention on killing anyone. We’d simply gone there to secure the base, nothing more.”

Her lips curled. “You play with words.”

He brushed her off. “I do not wish to launch an offensive against the Sephians, but if they continue to attack our people, I will be forced to retaliate.” He began to pace. “Perhaps if you were to talk with your people…”

Nalea sighed. “I don’t have that kind of authority.”

His lips curved upward. “You underestimate your authority. You’re a member of a trinity. The Sephians will listen, especially if it’s to save lives.”

We’ll see about that.

After a moment, Otas spoke again. “Do you agree to those terms?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not finished,” she said. “There will also be no aggressions against the humans.”

He cocked his head, watching her for a moment. “We’ve never attacked the humans before and will not… unless we’re forced. Satisfied?”

She watched him for a bit, and then gave a tight nod. “You have a deal, father.”

He smiled then tapped something on his wrist-comm.

A guardsman entered.

“Release my daughter,” he commanded.

The guardsman walked toward her without questioning the command. How many knew that the Grand Lord was dead? Outside of the few who’d ambushed Roden and her, she suspected Otas was misleading most of this base and the core ship.

The guardsman turned her around and she bit back the urge to try to fight or flee as he freed her from her hand restraints. As soon as her hands were free, she snapped around to face the two Draeken.

Otas was watching her suspiciously. “Tell me, what do you think of Roden Zyll?”

“I don’t.” The response was swift and hard.

“And yet you’re his consort. I know enough about Roden to know the choice was yours.”

“I was going to die.” Either at Roden’s hands or at Hillas’, it didn’t matter. The result was the same. “I had nothing to lose.”

His lips curled into a grin. “The Puftan blood runs strong in you. A Puftan would always seize a chance. You remind me of him.” He brushed his thumb over his lips. “If you had the opportunity to be released from the bond, would you take it?”

She raised her brows. “I don’t understand.”

“Answer my question first.”

“I have no need to feel Roden.”

“What if you could break the bond?”

She watched him closely. “The bond can only be broken through death.”

“Roden will die in due time. Until then…” Otas pulled out a thick gold chain with a gaudy pendant hanging from it. The front of the pendant was emblazoned with the royal Puftan crest. “This is a portable disjunctor. While you wear it, you will feel nothing from him, not even the pain of his inevitable death.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“We’ve rarely had a need to use it. Most tahren want to feel the bond.”

The words stung. Steeling herself, she looked up. “Why are you offering me this?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Hillas,” she scolded.

He held up a hand. “All I ask for is your support.” He began to pace. “Roden has tainted his troops. They attacked this base. He has escaped and will likely begin a propaganda campaign. He can reveal the truth about me, but even he cannot dispute your heritage. With you at my side, we can stop this little uprising before the violence bleeds over to hurt your people or the inhabitants of this world.”

She paused, longer than she needed, but she was in no hurry to capitulate to Otas. “If I refuse?”

“You’ll remain here. Unharmed, but within this cell until you see the wisdom of my proposal. You must understand, I cannot allow freedom to someone unwilling to trust me.”

Meaning she wouldn’t get a chance to escape or a shot at killing Hillas—again—as long as she was in that cell. Her chin lifted. “I accept.”

With a smile, Otas held up a pendant. “Allow me.”

She swallowed and nodded. She stood still as he lowered the pendant over her head. The pendant was heavy; its humming metal cold.

“There. That’s it.”

Nalea turned around to face Otas. She brought her fingers up to feel the pendant. With a trivial hum radiating from it, the chain was thick, like the choke chains humans used on canines. It was too short to pull over her head, and she imagined it was not easily broken, but it could be done. She frowned before looking back up. “All I had to do was accept your gift, and now you’re willing to trust me?”

“That’s all there is to it.” He smiled coldly as he stepped away from her and toward the door. “Because if you try to remove it or if I’m killed, the disjunctor will be deactivated. If you betray me, I’ll deactivate it.” He opened the door. “If it deactivates, it detonates, killing you and anyone within several feet of you.”