Fyet.

Roden awoke to find liquid fire running through his brain and lead clogging his veins. He forced his eyes open and a drab human medical facility came into view. He rolled his stiff neck from side to side, wincing at his tight, sore muscles then brought his hand over to the bandage covering his stomach. Damn, human weapons could do their share of damage, especially coupled with the nasty effects of tiscalin. It would take days before he’d be back to full strength.

Nalea watched him from a chair across the room.

“How long have I been out?”

She shrugged. “A few hours.”

She wore a thick, high-necked vest that didn’t move when she shrugged. He frowned. “They let you run free around this place with a bomb still around your neck?”

She bristled. “No. I’m only allowed here or in my quarters. Evidently, they don’t see your death as a significant risk.”

He brushed off her comment with a wave. “We need to get that thing off you.”

Nalea continued to fidget. “Wync brought a couple of your people to Apolo to see if they could get it off without it detonating. It seems that no one has experience with these things.”

“We’ll get it off.” He grunted as he moved to a more comfortable position. “Otas needs you alive to keep Hillas’ title.”

She looked up, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew the frustration and sense of helplessness those dark glasses hid. He felt the same way while lying in this bed. He’d expected the mission to take down Hillas’ imposter as well as to show the humans that the Draeken were a fair and just race. Instead, it seemed he’d made no progress whatsoever in establishing an earthside home for his people. Without human support, they were nothing more than nomads.

He frowned when he realized Nalea was still watching him.

“Who are you?” she asked under her breath.

“You know me.” The reply was quiet, confident.

Her head shook slightly from side to side. “That’s the thing. I have no idea who you are.”

He sighed, long and hard. “What do you wish to know?”

“For starters, you can tell me about Kreed.”

He shot her a look and saw the truth in her hard expression; even through the dark glasses. All that planning was wasted. Everything he’d done to maintain a dichotomy, gone. If she knew, that meant Apolo had figured things out, which could only mean his lifelong secret was now public knowledge. His people would never trust Kreed, and the Sephians and humans would never trust Roden. What he’d worked at keeping separate had come together explosively. He rubbed his temples, a headache overpowering the pain wracking his body.

“I don’t get it. Why two identities?”

He sighed deeply. “As Roden, I could lead my people to lasting peace right in the open. As Kreed, I could guide my people from the shadows. Besides, many of the heroes in human legends had alter egos.”

She belted out a laugh. “You’re no hero.” She shook her head. “How can you say you worked toward peace when you led your people in war?”

His lips tightened. “Because, sometimes, to get to peace, people have to suffer enough that there’s no other choice.”

She flinched. It was the slightest movement, but Roden noticed. Then she sobered. “So, are you Kreed who used Roden’s identity to betray your people, or are you Roden who used Kreed’s identity to mislead my people?”

His eyes closed. “Neither.” He paused. “Both.” Speaking caused him to cough. “I was born Kreed Sylk, but I’ve been Roden Zyll longer. Regardless of the name I go by, peace has always been my endgame.”

“You switch identities so easily. Even Apolo said he hardly recognized you, even though you grew up together.”

“You think he was my slave?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He let silence fill the room for a moment before speaking. “We went to school together. My family had no slaves. Even if my parents could have afforded them, they never would have accepted a slave. They were stalwart opponents of slavery and worked hard to integrate the races. That’s how I ended up in the same school as Apolo.”

“Yet you became a lord with hundreds of slaves to your name. Your parents must’ve been proud,” she said sarcastically.

“They died when I was young,” Roden said. “And I wasn’t born a lord.”

She frowned. “But that’s impossible; on Sephia, commoners can’t just decide to become lords. Bloodlines are sacred.”

Roden shrugged. “I’d just gotten over a bad time in my life. On my course for vengeance, I ran into Lord Zyll, who was seeking vengeance for the death of his only son who’d been about my age. I promised retribution for his son. In return, I became his son to carry on the bloodline. I didn’t like having slaves, but I couldn’t release them without breaking my promise to Lord Zyll.”

She studied him, and the pieces finally fell into place. “That’s why you brought Kreed back. To do what Roden couldn’t do.”

Roden nodded tightly. “Yes, that was how it started. I’ve made mistakes, but I don’t have regrets. Everything I’ve done has been to bring lasting peace to my people.”

Her chair slid on the hard floor, and he looked up to see Nalea standing over him. A gentle hand pushed his fist down, and he found a straw held to his mouth. The water was cool, at first burning his raw throat, then soothing. She pulled away the glass far too soon.

She returned to her chair. “I still can’t tell when you’re telling the truth or when you’re lying.”

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before nodding toward the disjunctor. “When we get that thing off you, you won’t need to ask. That’s how Otas got you to wear it, I assume—you had begun to sense me.”

She set the glass down. “Rather than having me read your emotions, you could just tell me the truth instead.”

“I can try.”

Her expression was sad, but he could have sworn he glimpsed hope in her features. “You know, things could’ve gone smoother if I’d known you were on our side.”

He clenched his eyes closed, then glowered at her. “Still you don’t understand? There is no side. I do what’s best for our people. Our survival, Draeken and Sephian, is intertwined. Neither can thrive without the other. You are the key to making that happen.”

She didn’t look up, only shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s not that difficult. All you need to do is stand with one hand reaching out to each race, and the Draeken and Sephians will accept peace. With the humans, we’ll broker peace together, and live in whatever inhospitable nook of this world they deem fit. If they refuse, with our power cells recharged, we’ll move on to the next habitable world.”

“None of that sounds easy,” she said.

He shrugged and winced.

“Why did you tell everyone I was dead?” she asked.

He frowned. “I assumed Otas had had you executed.”

“Not that time. The first time… before you left me with Otas, Apolo said that you—Kreed, I mean—said I was already dead. Were you planning ahead?”

“I wanted us to finish Hillas without distractions, like rescue attempts.”

She blew out a breath. “I’m a living being, Roden, not some possession. Don’t you realize these games you play destroy lives?”

For the first time ever, he realized that he craved this woman to find him redeemable, though he often suspected that there was nothing left to redeem. He’d crossed that line too long ago. “Sometimes, games are necessary, and yes, I realize lives are in the balance. Tell me, how many lives were lost during last night’s attack?”

“What?” she asked, and then shook a fist at him. “Gods, you’re infuriating. Can you not answer a single question directly?”

When he didn’t answer, she pursed her lips. “Eight total: one Sephian, two humans, and five Draeken.”

“Five?” Roden shot her a dark frown. “Why so many?”

“It seems that several Sephians and humans switched their blasters to ‘kill’.”

Bloodthirsty imbeciles. He shook his head slightly. He’d known there’d be loss of life when he took down Hillas, but when would it end? “Where is Otas now?”

She began to pace. “We believe he’s locked down in his comm-center. The force barrier has been pulled back to cover just that area of the base. We suspect that he doesn’t have enough power cells to maintain a larger barrier.”

“The good news is that he and his guardsmen can’t escape,” Roden said.

“How can you be so sure?”

He shook his head. “The force barrier imprisons him within his comm-center as much as it holds us out.”

“We have him surrounded,” Nalea said. “We wait until his power runs out.”

Roden sighed. “The upgraded power cells needed to run a force barrier won’t run out. He’ll run out of food first, and the core ships could be at full power by then.” He’d thoroughly examined the power cell he’d snatched. The technology was impressively simple. Just a few algorithms adapted the technology to read the smaller discrete waves off this star rather than the continuous waves off Sephia’s system. He tried to sit up.

“You need to rest,” she blurted out.

“I need to end this before Otas has the power of a core ship behind him.” The only reason the core ships weren’t in orbit already was that Otas hadn’t converted all the power cells yet, giving Roden a very short window to prevent a catastrophic war on this planet.

Nalea gave him a choked look. “You’re in no condition to stand, let alone go back to the base. Face it, your coup is on hold.”

Holding the sheet around his waist, he managed to pull himself to his feet, flaring his wings for added balance. His legs were wobbly, forcing him to hold onto the bed for support. He glared. “Damn it, Nalea. It was never about power. We have hours, days at most, before the first core ship has finished upgrading their power cells.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Exactly how many core ships are there?”

“More than one.” His reply was curt. “Which makes taking down Otas quickly all the more critical. If Otas is at the helm when that happens, he’ll enslave this world and destroy both my and your people in the process.”

“Don’t,” she scolded. “Don’t act like you’re doing all this out of some altruistic urge. You don’t care about my people.”

He pushed off from the bed. “I owe as much to your people as I do mine.” He miraculously found the strength to walk. With each step, the burning tension eased in his muscles. He stopped at the table across the room, where his clothes sat neatly folded. He grabbed the wrist-comm from the top of the pile and snapped it around his forearm. A female’s voice came through the small speaker.

“Gix,” he said. “Tell me you’re finished with what I asked.”

“I am, my lord. We’re all set,” Gix replied.

“Good. See you in an hour.” His body ached all over.

His people moved fast. If only they’d been able to move faster, they would’ve ensured Otas was eliminated the first time.

“What makes you think the humans will let you out of here?” Nalea asked from behind.

He gingerly fastened his kilt around his waist. “I don’t need permission, my dear. All my ships are equipped with the new power cells and on their way here as we speak.”