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Back Seven Devils
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1.
  4. 2.
  5. 3.
  6. 4.
  7. 5.
  8. 6.
  9. 7.
  10. 8.
  11. 9.
  12. 10.
  13. 11.
  14. 12.
  15. 13.
  16. 14.
  17. 15.
  18. 16.
  19. 17.
  20. 18.
  21. 19.
  22. 20.
  23. 21.
  24. 22.
  25. 23.
  26. 24.
  27. 25.
  28. 26.
  29. 27.
  30. 28.
  31. 29.
  32. 30.
  33. 31.
  34. 32.
  35. 33.
  36. 34.
  37. 35.
  38. 36.
  39. 37.
  40. 38.
  41. 39.
  42. 40.
  43. 41.
  44. 42.
  45. 43.
  46. 44.
  47. 45.
  48. 46.
  49. 47.
  50. 48.
  51. 49.
  52. 50.
  53. 51.
  54. 52.
  55. 53.
  56. 54.
  57. 55.
  58. 56.
  59. 57.
  60. EPILOGUE
  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. ABOUT THE AUTHORS

“Told you I wasn’t interested.”

“You’re starving.”

“I’ll live.”

“Stop being stubborn,” she said.

With a glare, he leaned forward and bit into the bar. He closed his eyes, as if to savor the taste, and kept eating.

“So, I take it you weren’t in that ship we destroyed?” she asked. “Or Asteria?”

“Misdirection. I stayed behind to gather intel.” He finished off the bar and leaned back, exhausted. “Stupid decision, really. Your friend shot me and it’s worse than I thought.”

Rhea frowned. His skin was pallid, his breathing too slow. When Rhea touched his forehead, his skin burned to the touch. “How long have you been like this?”

“Few days.” He gestured to his midsection. Dried blood stained his jacket. “Wound’s infected. Wasn’t gonna live if I didn’t make it off it the ship . . .” His voice was trailing off. He shut his eyes, shook his head hard, and started muttering Tholosian propaganda phrases: “Tholos is might. Victory is strength. Failure is weakness. The Scythe slices the soul. The Gods will have their sacrifice. I sacrifice myself to Tholos.”

Seven devils. The Oracle might not be able to activate his acute stress response, but One’s background processes were still active. Simple repetition to ensure constant compliance. One of Rhea’s clients used to mumble phrases in his sleep.

“Hey.” Rhea grabbed his jacket, shaking him. “Pilot.”

He still muttered under his breath, his eyes rolling up in his skull.

“No,” Rhea whispered fiercely. “You’re not going to die on me.” Not after that Evoli. Not after what she’d seen.

When the pilot finally passed out again, Rhea checked his pulse every few minutes.

She was going to save him.

We have to be better.

32.

PRINCESS DISCORDIA

Five years ago

“On your feet.”

The soft command jolted Discordia into awareness. How long had she spent in this room, sitting beside the murdered bodies of soldiers the Archon tasked her to fight? Yet another test, another demonstration he required from his favored child to keep his high regard.

Focus or die, he’d told her over the comms as he lowered the temperature in the training compound on Macella to conditions no one without body modifications could withstand. The soldiers had all been warm in their thermal uniforms while she fought them off in a thin jumpsuit—with no weapons.

Dimly, Discordia recalled water spraying from the ceiling’s sprinklers as she’d dodged Mors blasts and hidden blades. The water had turned to ice on her skin, but still she’d fought. Her father was right: focus or die.

All she wanted was to survive.

The floor of the facility had iced over. The frost had burned at first, but then it only felt numb. Earlier, a movement had jarred Discordia from her frozen reverie, and she looked over to see one soldier still alive. His breath rattled.