There was a reason Discordia had been known as the Servant of Death.

The microchips embedded within their brains’ cerebrums connected the software with a soft <beep>.

Clo jerked away. Eris didn’t seem bothered, but then, she was as emotionless as a statue.

<Testing,> Eris said in Clo’s mind.

“This is such a bad idea,” Clo said out loud with a grimace. “Just hearing your voice in my head makes me want to flip a table.”

“I don’t want to be killed because you’re too stubborn to communicate. Now test the damn thing.”

<I hate you.>

“Loud and clear.” <And I don’t like you, either.>

Clo narrowed her eyes.

Eris shook her head and completed an inventory of supplies. This mission would only last one week. Seven days. Clo could last that long. She’d have to.

Less than an hour later, Asteria fired up and blasted into the sky toward Myndalia.

—

Home hadn’t changed at all.

Myndalia rose in the distance, a small dot growing larger as Clo navigated through the stars. It’d taken fourteen hours and one hyperjump from Nova to reach the planet. Clo and Eris did their best to avert conflict by avoiding each other. They’d had one brief sleep on opposite sides of the ship, respective doors bolted tight. Clo had slept in the pilot’s seat and had a crick in her neck.

“I never thought I’d see this silthole again,” Clo muttered as she maneuvered Asteria into the asteroid belt near the planet.

Though the Novantae had employed hackers to hide their ships from enemy detection, the thick layer of rock and debris would help protect against scavengers looking for parts to steal. It was easier to take the smaller pod to the transport hub. It was a military issued mini-craft with forged permissions the Novantae hackers had put into Tholosian detection systems for situations exactly like this.

Just a quick, easy jaunt into the enemy’s territory. Get in, get out.

“Me neither,” Eris said. “Can’t say I missed it.”

Clo scoffed. The princess’s experience on this planet wouldn’t have been anything like Clo’s. She would have grown up far above Clo’s rundown slums in that golden and opulent academy, which circled around the city of Kersh like a second sun. Clo had looked up at that building every day of her childhood, wishing for even one hour up there. Eating fine foods, being clean, not having to look over her shoulder.

Eris had that upbringing—she and her monster of a brother, Damocles. They’d grown up scheming together, right over Clo’s head. She stared at the other woman. Did you know? Did you know what your brother did on Jurran? Did you approve?

She kept these thoughts from Eris, out of the range of the Pathos. It was a skill, to keep from projecting thoughts. It didn’t always work.

Eris caught her look. “What?”