For the second time in as many days, Nalea stepped out of her cell. As before, it was late and the hallway was empty, and she turned toward Roden’s room. Only this time, he led the way. She numbly followed him through the hallways, and waited while he entered his unlock code, noticing that this time he made a point of not hiding the code he entered. And, he’d changed the code since she’d last been there.

After the door shut behind them and the silence of her new prison enveloped her, the numbness morphed into anger. She spun. “What the hell are you thinking? Who would ever believe Lord Commander Roden Zyll could stoop so low as to take on a Sephian as a consort?”

He raised a brow. “A Draeken-Sephian of the royal Puftan bloodline. My dear, I am certain they’ll accept you as my consort. In fact, I suspect our people will find the union both practical and fortuitous. The continuation of the Puftan line will be a blessing to our people and a new hope to end the Sephian’s relentless genocide.” He continued on his way to his desk. She remained standing there as he tapped on his computer.

After a long silence, he spoke. “If you’re brought to the Grand Lord as a prisoner—or even as a member of my base—he has the authority to take you from my command and have you killed without anyone the wiser. If you’re brought to him as my consort though, even as your father, Hillas can’t demand to see you alone, let alone transfer you to his control; not without breaking Draeken protocol. He can’t kill you—his second-in-command’s consort—without raising suspicion.” He lifted his chin a touch higher. “Rather brilliant, if I do say so myself.”

“Brilliant?” she countered. “More like suicidal. You must’ve suffered a major head injury if you think you can convince the Grand Lord—not to mention every other Draeken, that you’d let any woman into your heart… and a half-breed at that!”

Roden sprang to his feet, a stern look on his face. Nalea fought to stand her ground as he strolled to her, lifted her chin, and placed a slow, tender kiss upon her lips. A kiss she refused to return.

Just as she felt her control slipping, he broke away and returned to his desk. “You see, my dear, I can be quite convincing.”

Suvaste. She shook her head, forcing herself to remember that to Roden it was all for show.

“With you being of the Puftan bloodline, there’s little convincing to be done on my end.” He watched her. “Now, you, on the other hand, could work on your acting skills. If I may make a suggestion… accept the tahren bond. There would be much less need to act.”

“Ha!” Nalea burst out. “You overestimate the bond. Even if I gave in to the bond, it does nothing to change my emotions. The bond may be biological, but it holds no sway over my mind and heart.”

He shrugged. “You could try it and see.”

Nalea took a step closer. “Anyone who knows me will never believe that I could feel anything for a Draeken.”

Some kind of emotion flashed through his eyes but was gone all too quickly. His lips curved upward into a foreboding smile. “Haven’t I mentioned that Nalea of Apolo’s trinity died not long after her capture? Aside from the few guardsmen I’ve entrusted to watch you, the world believes you’re already dead. To any other Draeken, you’re a Sephian I captured for my own pleasure. Of course, all the truth will come out once we meet with Hillas and your safety is secured.”

The room spun and Nalea barely reached the chair in time. She sank down, staring at the Draeken typing away on his computer. Everyone she loved thought she was dead.

No one would ever come for her.

A vision of a funeral service passed through her mind. Her closest friend, Sienna—driven by her human emotions—would have cried while giving a moving eulogy. Legian would be strong at her side. But Apolo, with his tahren still on Sephia, would suffer even more. He’d closed himself off to nearly everyone. It’d taken Nalea over a decade to discover the person beneath the leader façade.

It’d been bad enough for her to be in close proximity to Roden over the past months, but to know that her friends had suffered needlessly because of his cruel games… She turned a hard glare onto Roden. “You heartless, cruel bastard,” she ground out, slamming a fist on his desk.

He glanced up, looking confused. “I couldn’t have your friends plan any kind of rescue mission, now could I? Not when we’re so close to bringing peace to both our races.”

With a shriek, she lunged across the desk. Surprise flashed across his face the instant before she tackled him, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She twisted around to straddle him so that his wings were pinned behind his back. She could’ve killed him just then, but she’d be no closer to ending Hillas. Instead, she swung back and slapped him.

The sound echoed through the room. Her palm burned and tingled from the force of her blow. “I hate you,” she shouted, the words breaking as she fought back tears she refused to shed.

The slightest hint of emotion flashed across his face, erased before she could recognize it. “I know,” he replied softly.

He didn’t strike her back. He didn’t push her off him. Hells, he just sat there as she glared down at him. Nalea watched him, narrowing her eyes. After a while, she shook her head. “Who are you really, Roden Zyll?”

“Are we done here?” he asked. He then he knocked her off him, picked up his chair, sat down, and went back to his computer.

She muttered every swear word she knew as she paced around the dark room. As a small consideration, Roden had dimmed the lights enough she could see without squinting. First thing she noticed was the lack of weapons. There was little décor; not even a nail in the wall that could even be used as a weapon.

Her gaze fell on the bed and froze. Women’s clothing had been laid out across it. Not just any clothing, but Draeken-style clothing. Where Sephians wore unisex styles, Draeken males and females dressed differently: males wore kilts and boots, while females wore lissome dresses and delicate shoes. As Draeken often flew places, they didn’t need practical shoes, and they preferred their garments to flit and flutter in the breeze. Both happened to be the exact opposite of Nalea’s preferences.

She fisted a scrap of material and held it up. “What the fyet is this?”

“A gown. It was quite difficult to obtain, but it’s rather lovely, wouldn’t you agree?”

She dropped it back onto the bed as though it had bitten her. “A bit presumptuous, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m a realist and a pragmatist.”

She stared at the gown. “I’d rather go naked than wear this.”

Roden smirked. “That’s your choice, but that may prove distracting.”

Nalea glared.

“We must be convincing. A Draeken consort would be expected to look the part.”

Sephian females were adored for their strength. They had no need to wear the fragile, colorful pieces of fabric Draeken females flaunted to attract lovers. If she wore this gown, most of her soullare would be on display for all to see. “How am I to hide any weapons under this thing?” she asked, holding the flimsy material before her and seeing too much light through it.

Roden barked out a laugh. “And give you a chance to cut my throat like you did to old Lord Homs?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Her breath hardened in her chest. That had happened on Blood Night. As far as she knew, there’d been too much chaos for any records to be tracked that night. She’d never told anyone about that night. Not even Apolo.

Roden rubbed his temples. “Will you always doubt my resourcefulness?” He then gave her a hard look. “Homs was a good Draeken, you know. He didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“So you didn’t slice Homs’s throat while he slept peacefully in his bed?” He rubbed his neck. “Hmm, somehow I think you could do exactly that sort of thing to an unarmed Draeken.”

“You’re right. I killed him,” she admitted quietly. “I went into his room, picked his sharpest dagger, and slit his throat while he slept. He died while still deep in his dreams.” She stepped forward, placing her palms on his desk. “But did your source also tell you that a Sephian death force had broken through his gates and were about to execute him using blood whips, just as they’d done to the three other Lords in the area?”

Roden looked a touch surprised but said nothing.

She leaned forward. “Do you realize how much he would have suffered? Blood whips tipped with barbs coated with anti-coagulant and poison; he could’ve burned and bled for days, even at his age, before the poison would’ve reached his heart.”

“I assure you, I am quite aware of the pain caused by blood whips… as well as other Sephian weapons,” Roden coolly replied. “Your people have developed quite the harsh arsenal.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “My people have done what they needed to survive, but that’s beside the point. What I did for Homs was an act of mercy.”

“Hmm.” He returned to typing on that infuriating computer.

She slammed her fists down on his desk, forcing him to look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes narrowed upon her. “I think you have a talent for survival and to hells with anyone who gets in your way—especially if that person happens to be a Draeken. You didn’t come to this planet to save humans. You came here to kill Draeken simply because they were born with wings. You don’t care if they’ve no blood on their hands. You hate that you’re half Draeken, and you bundle up all that hate and shoot it at all of my people as punishment for Hillas’ sins. Face it, my dear; you’re a bigger hypocrite than I am.”

Nalea snapped back. “Homs was the closest I ever had to a father. He treated me and my mother as though we were family. You can take your godsdamned righteousness and stuff it.”

One side of his lips curled upward, but there was no hint of humor. “Ah, so cold Nalea can care for a Draeken. Good. You better remember that feeling if you want to convince Hillas.”

“You’re not Homs,” she spat out.

“No. I wasn’t incompetent enough to let you slice my throat.”

Her jaw clenched as he stood and side-stepped around her.

“I was twelve.”

Roden glanced back. “What?”

“I was twelve years old. I would’ve done things differently now, but at that time, I wasn’t strong enough to stand up against the death force. I would’ve been whipped right alongside Homs if I’d stood up for him.” She winced at the memory. Such a straight cut, yet so much blood poured out. The blue sheets, the dark crimson… She lifted her chin. “I did what I thought was best for Homs. I was trying to protect him.”

“Remorse does nothing to untangle that knot in the heart though, does it?”

Nalea turned to face Roden. For the first time, she truly saw a softness to his features, his silver eyes tinted with compassion. She frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”

He stepped closer then. “We all have regrets. It’s what we learn from them that maps our future.” He grabbed a pillow and blanket and walked past her.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought we had to go see Hillas.”

“Not until sunset,” he replied curtly. “It’s late. I need rest. The bed is yours as long as you don’t talk.”

She stared at him as he sat down, kicked off his boots, fluffed the pillow and gave her his back. His wings formed a wall, making it quite clear the conversation was over. He pulled the blanket over him and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and other than the blades I have on me, the others are safely locked away. I’d advise you to not make an attempt to kill me in my sleep.”

With that he rolled back over, and silence filled the room.

Nalea lay down on the bed and watched him for several moments. Deep breaths were his only response. She rolled onto her back. Every night since Blood Night, she’d thought of Homs and what she’d done to the only other person she’d loved as much as she’d loved her mother. But, for the first time since that night, she no longer felt absolutely, abysmally alone.

She closed her eyes and a tear slipped free. The truth sat like a stone in her stomach.

The Draeken who lay on the floor several feet away had done horrendous things.

So had she.

He would do anything to accomplish his goals.

So would she.

She could no longer deny why the tahren bond had sought Lord Roden Zyll as her soulmate. Everything she accused him of, she was also guilty of.

They were both monsters.