Nalea regained consciousness with a gasp. Throbbing agony was everywhere. Her neck was a red-hot pin cushion, air turning to fire as it passed through her throat. She bolted forward, only to be pressed back down. Her mind fought to make sense of what happened, but the world around her was muted, as though she was entangled in grasses and caught swirling underwater in one of the hot springs of the Golran Sea.

As her vision came back into focus, she found Apolo kneeling over her. Sweat beaded his forehead as he leaned over her. He wiped his wet forehead with the back of a bloody hand before pressing it again to her neck. This time she felt the pressure and low tingle of energy through his palms.

Details seeped back into her mind as her healing wound burned and itched. They were on a mission to find Otas, but then…

The disjunctor.

She pushed at Apolo, but he slapped her hand away. “Not until I get you stabilized.”

Frowning, she moved her head. Suvaste, her neck hurt. “I’m alive.” The words so rough and scratchy, she didn’t recognize her own voice.

“Because you’re incredibly lucky,” Apolo said, and he pressed harder onto her neck. She coughed, fighting to breathe through the pressure. Her mouth tasted of iron.

The scene replayed. She’d thought she could talk Otas down by negotiating with him. She hadn’t considered that he’d lash out like a cornered fregee. If she hadn’t been there, they could’ve taken down Otas without any injuries. She’d put them all at risk. “My fault,” she coughed out. “Otas. The mission—”

Apolo shushed her. “Later.”

Her skin continued to tingle as it pulled his energy to heal her wound. It was a natural ability of her people and required no conscious effort on her own. It worked much the same way as the tahren bond. Sephians were highly attuned to living energy.

Making only the smallest movements, she took in the scene around her. Most of the team had disappeared. Otas was nowhere to be seen. Wync was bent over someone several feet away. It was another Draeken—she could tell by the wings. Wings covered in soot and blood, but beneath the grime she recognized the tattoos.

She reached out weakly.

“Don’t worry about him right now,” Apolo said, his voice a bit too gentle. “Not until I get your wound sealed.” He glanced over to Roden and lifted his wrist-comm. “We need med-techs down here now, godsdammit!”

She watched as Wync worked on his commander. No movement. His back to her, his wings were draped limply across the floor. Her jaw clamped shut so hard her teeth hurt. She clenched her eyes closed against the fury boiling in her blood. She’d been wrong to come on this mission, but what the hells had he been thinking? When Roden came at her with his blaster, her gut reaction was to defend herself, but she’d realized he was about to do something very stupid.

When Apolo finally pulled away, she brought her hand to her throat. Her fingers traced a thick line of hyper-sensitive scar tissue. By the feel of it, Roden had nearly hit her jugular when he shot through the chain.

She pulled herself slowly to a sitting position and the world spun.

“Careful,” Apolo said, holding her steady, although he didn’t look much better. He looked positively drained, and she wondered how much energy he’d used up helping her heal.

“Otas?” she asked, her voice like sandpaper, but slightly improved from before.

“The coward used the blast as a diversion. The rest of the team followed him. No word yet.”

Clumsily, she got to her knees.

Apolo put an arm around her. “You need to rest. The med-techs will be here soon enough.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said as much to convince herself as Apolo. “Help Roden.”

His lips tightened. It was all the look she needed. As she started to crawl toward the Draeken, her palm slipped in blood, and she went down. Apolo’s strong arms enveloped her, and she used him to steady herself as she crossed the seemingly endless distance to Roden’s wingtip. Reaching out, she touched the smooth velvet skin. Without the disjunctor, she should now feel his emotions, pain… something, but there was nothing. No reaction.

She collapsed on an elbow. “You idiot,” she muttered, wishing that he was Sephian so that he could pull her energy to heal.

He was lying on his side. Dozens of bleeding cuts from shrapnel covered his body. Fortunately, none of them looked too deep. Wync had bandaged Roden’s arm, and crimson blood already soaked the gray cloth. Draeken couldn’t heal from energy like Sephians could. They needed medical care. Worse, they got things like infections and illness. And there was so much blood.

She reached out and gingerly brushed her fingertips down his cheek. His skin was still warm, but he showed no sign of reaction. She plucked out a tiny shard of shrapnel from above his eye. A bead of blood took its place. She reached for another, only to be pulled back. She jerked free, but Roden was suddenly surrounded by med-techs—or medics, as humans called them.

She leaned back and then noticed the other Draeken lying near him, clearly dead. It was Elng—one of Hillas’ devout guardsmen. It looked like he’d taken the brunt of the blast. A messy, rough-edged hole had burned into his torso, and a glint of metal caught the light. A piece of the pendant with the Draeken royal symbol still lay embedded in his chest. Her disjunctor.

Roden had pulled it off her and tried to throw it at Otas in the split second between detonation and blast. Elng had died protecting his false leader. She shook her head. “Why?” she asked, but no one answered her.

The medics moved fast, loading first Roden, then her, onto stretchers. She tried to sit but found herself strapped down. She fought her restraints all the way back to the waiting ship. The medics set her next to Roden, and injected something that made her world spin and fade to darkness.

Nalea awoke to silence and the glow of the planet’s single, pale moon illuminating the room through large windows. Pushing herself into a sitting position, something tugged on her arm. Glancing over, she saw a bag holding some kind of clear liquid that had a long, narrow tube connecting it to her arm. With a frown, she tugged off the thing Sienna had once called it an ivy, though it bore no resemblance to a plant.

She came to her feet. It took a moment before the floor felt solid beneath her.

A curtain enclosed her in a small area. Silently, she slipped between two fabric privacy panels, finding herself in a large room. Definitely a human medical facility. The walls were drab with an overabundance of white. Cloth, paint, even the strange long shirt she wore, bore the same lack of color. And, unlike the med rooms she knew, small lamps were lit on tables throughout the area.

Dozens of beds lined the two long walls. Several held occupants, some with wings, but none held the one she sought. Barefoot, she marched out of the room and into the brighter hallway. Wincing, she covered her eyes and glanced in both directions. Two humans, a male and a female, each wearing a long white jacket, were approaching from her left. Upon seeing her, they paused. “Can we help you?”

She shook her head and turned away. She felt their gazes at her back for a moment, and waited until they finally went into the room she’d just come from. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on something deep within herself, focusing on sensations, searching for anything that didn’t originate from her. There. Nearly too weak for her to catch, but the slightest sense of bothness was all she needed.

Following the transparent thread, she turned left. Her footsteps slapped the floor as she progressed past several doors. Coming to a stop, she paused, turned, and returned to a door she’d just passed.

She pushed through the door to find a much smaller room with four beds and only two occupants. She stepped to the first bed, and her heart clenched. Roden lay on the bed, his eyes closed. More of those ivies hung from poles off to his side. Machines with electronic readings sat on a cart by his head. One machine made a recurring beeping sound. He’d been cleaned up, his wounds bandaged. Tubes went into his nose and arms. His long hair flowed down the pillow under his head, and his wings fanned out behind him, his bed twice the size of hers to accommodate his Draeken physiology.

His heavily bandaged arm was held aloft by straps and cables. She frowned. Even though the bandage was thick, it was too short. Rather, his arm was too short. She reached out but didn’t touch. “Suvaste, what have they done to you?”

This time, Nalea awoke to find Roden, his eyes glazed, but watching her intently.

His voice was weak and rough when he spoke. “You’re well, I see.”

She didn’t speak while she came to her feet. She bent over him, cupped his cheek, and ever so softly kissed his forehead.

He stared at her, surprised.

“That’s for saving my life,” she said. “Though you’re an idiot for doing that.”

He grunted then tugged at the cables, which brought forth a wince. “Damned primitives,” he muttered as his head pushed deeper into the pillow. “Leave it to humans to cut off damaged appendages rather than repair them.”

A pang of sympathy shot through her. “Is there anything your med-techs can do?”

He grimaced. “Not now. Not without a fyet hand left to work with.” He yanked once more at the cables, the sounds echoing in the small room.

He lay there for several long minutes, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he spoke. “Tell me it was worth it. Tell me we got Otas.”

“I haven’t heard yet.”

His lips tightened. “It doesn’t matter. If we didn’t get him, he’s gone from earthside. We’ll have to deal with him later. First, we need to get in front of the Draeken core ships to show them we are alive. When they see us together—”

“No,” she interrupted.

He frowned before wincing back on the bed. It took him a couple deep breaths before responding. “You’re Hillas’ heir. It only makes sense—”

“I’m a Sephian first, and nothing will change that.”

“Sephians. Draeken. On Earth, we’re the same. We’re both outsiders.”

She shook her head. “I’m a member of Apolo’s trinity, and right now my people need me more than ever. I can’t abandon them.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She paused before speaking. “Both.”

“But your place is with me.” His words were demanding. “The endgame was always to have you and I rule our peoples.”

She took his hand, and rubbed a thumb down his palm. “I won’t deny that you’re my tahren.” Then she pulled away and backed up a couple steps.

His gaze never left hers. It looked as though he’d climb out of the bed if he could. “Nalea…”

She paused at the door. “Good-bye.” She rushed out of the room before she changed her mind. She couldn’t stay with Roden any more than she could abandon her people.

It was the best for both of them.