Roden didn’t understand why Sephians chose to cover their bodies with drab clothing. Their golden skin, with hues of the soullare, was meant to be on display; in his opinion, at least. He glanced over at his passenger who continued to adjust the gown.

“Keep your eyes on the flight path. You’re going to get us killed before Hillas gets his chance.” Nalea pointed ahead. “Watch out!”

He turned back to piloting the ship, pulling up just in time to avoid an exceedingly tall tree. Roden had to fly the ship at full power, making the speed too fast for a human eye to make out enough detail to know that these ships weren’t native to their planet. If he slowed down, humans would find it odd to see a ship with the smallest of wings.

The speed of their flight brought bullets to mind, the small piece of metal shot from human weapons. While bullets were far less effective than Draeken blasters, bullets did have their value. His ship, shaped like one and moving like one, could end up in the side of a mountain if he wasn’t attentive.

Draeken ships flew much better in the higher altitudes where the oxygen levels were lower and fewer obstacles posed risk. Unfortunately, the humans had developed a rather robust radar system, and Roden was forced to fly too low for his preference to avoid detection. A lesser pilot would have crashed by now.

Flying fast and low required careful focus, a task made more difficult with Nalea’s movements on the edge of his vision. He wasn’t used to such pleasant distractions while flying. Just as he’d expected, the gown fit her beautifully. He’d chosen classic silver, a perfect contrast to her golden skin. Her gown matched the threads weaved through the fabric of his shirt and kilt, not to mention his eyes and hair.

His only concession was to ensure her shoes were somewhat practical. They were heels, not too high that she couldn’t run if they met danger, and most definitely not high enough to use the heel as a deadly weapon. Her shoulders were only slightly obscured by a black silken scarf with his royal lineage emblazoned in silver. He wanted to make it quite clear that if anyone harmed Nalea, they would face Roden’s wrath.

She spent the next several minutes of the flight fidgeting and tugging at her gown.

The seat back was narrow, designed as it was for Draeken anatomy, giving him plenty of room to flex his wings. He stretched his right just far enough to brush against Nalea’s bare arm.

She scowled, pushing his wing away. “You really think this is funny, don’t you? Could you have found a skimpier dress?”

“If you’re wearing something that is clearly for fashion and cannot hide the smallest blade, then Hillas will have nothing to fear from you.” He cast a sideways glance her way. “We’ll be there soon. You ready to play your part?”

She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t my first dog and peony show.”

“It’s pony show. You know, I find it ironic that Hillas also struggles with the English language.”

“I am nothing like him.”

“No, you’re not. That’s why I believe you will do the right thing.”

She scowled. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because Hillas is an evil menace who needs to pay.”

“And because you wish to be free,” Roden added.

Nalea didn’t respond.

Roden sighed. “I gave you my word you’d be free, didn’t I?”

“Freedom doesn’t mean much when someone’s dead,” she replied.

His lips thinned. “If you don’t survive, that means this whole thing went to hells, and I won’t be left breathing either. Personally, I’d like to stay alive for a few more years. The plan won’t be successful unless we both live. If we can’t count on each other, we’re dead already. We have to trust each other if we’re going to succeed.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “I’ll trust you as much as you trust me; how about that?”

He grinned. “I accept.” As long as she played along, it didn’t matter what she believed. The endgame was all-important, though her commitment and trust would become crucial if they did somehow survive until the next day. Yet when he told her what the real endgame was, he suspected he’d receive neither her commitment nor her trust… especially when she learned that he had no intentions of granting her freedom.

They were farther north now, somewhere over Canada, with only a couple hundred more miles of forest to cover before they reached Hillas’ earthside base. A light bleeped on the panel. His fingers flew across the screen as he punched in the entry access codes. “We’re here. Are you ready to do this, dear?”

She blew him a kiss, the action looking more hostile than friendly.

After they docked, he typed in a special code to secure and hold the ship on standby should they need to make a quick escape. He then typed in one more code; one no one knew. He’d made some special modifications to his ship. Even Hillas couldn’t bypass this code without destroying the ship in the process.

Nalea stood and stepped toward the door. He held out a hand. “Shall we?”

Her glare would’ve shredded a lesser Draeken’s confidence. Fortunately, Roden was no insignificant male. He held up a pair of silver-rimmed dark glasses and waited until she snatched them from his hand, slid them on, and then—finally—slipped her hand into his before he entered the code to open the door. Her grip was firm, as though she desired to break his fingers. He ran a thumb over her skin, and her lips formed a hard line.

The door slid open to reveal three of Hillas’ guardsmen awaiting their arrival. For protocol, only one was sufficient to escort Roden to the Grand Lord. Sending more was a brazen display of power. Three guardsmen? An affront to his pride; it would take at least a half dozen to take down Roden. Hillas clearly underestimated his Second. And that would be his downfall.

Brushing against his wings, Nalea moved around Roden to step out of the ship first, with Roden right behind, still holding his hand. When he stood at her side, she looked up at him and gave him a warm smile.

Fyet, the woman could act.