“Such a performer, always,” Aclisia’s left head said to her right. Both heads turned and smiled again toward Valen, their teeth sharp as a shark’s. “Come along, Prince. You are to be our very greatest achievement!”

Both hands reached out toward him.

“No,” Darai said. “Nor is going to do it herself.”

Valen felt it then, the horror returning to him as Nor turned, tears pouring down her cheeks as she grasped Valen by his wrists. Her grip was fiercely strong, the nails of her hand digging into his skin, her golden prosthetic as cold as ice against his other wrist.

“I can’t stop it,” she whispered, pulling him toward the open pod. “I never should have listened to him, Valen. You were right all along. You were the only one who ever sensed his wrongness, and I ignored you.”

“Get the general into position,” Darai instructed.

Beside the pod stood a panel on a thin podium. The soldiers guided Androma over to it, flanking her on all sides. She didn’t resist, almost as if she were being compelled by a power similar to the one commanding Valen now. But he knew she was immune to the virus, had known it since she and Dex resisted the attack at Ucatoria.

Perhaps it was her own resolve driving her to follow Darai, for Valen knew she did not fear death. He’d seen her find her way out of worse situations before.

Perhaps she had her own plan, as she always did.

Valen wished, desperately, that he could speak to her, that he could see into her mind to discover whether she was thinking of a way out of this.

“Valen first,” Darai said, gesturing to the pod.

“Please,” Nor begged him. “I’ll do anything. Anything to change your mind. Do you truly have no love for all we’ve built together, Uncle? We can still change things. We can still rule in this galaxy ourselves. We have the power. Isn’t that enough?”

Darai just threw back his head and laughed, the sound so wicked it sent chills skittering across his skin.

Valen had never heard that laughter before, did not know that Darai could feel such joy.

But as his uncle’s gaze fell upon Nor, Valen realized it wasn’t joy. It was an evil sort of hysteria, a thick, oppressive darkness oozing from the old Exonian.

“I am no uncle of yours,” Darai said mockingly. “Pathetic, how you saw me as family all this time. Family has no meaning in Exonia—only power does. And there can never be enough of it. Now stop groveling, Nor, and put your brother where he belongs. The princeling needs a throne, don’t you think?”

Fight him, Valen thought to Nor. Please, fight back against him. You have compulsion. You have the strength of our mother in your veins!