“I don’t want it!” The words burst from her throat in a roar that broke at the last word. When Damocles only stared at her in shock, she repeated them, lower: “I don’t want it. I don’t want to be this. Not without . . . not . . .”

Not without Xander.

“Feelings,” he spat in disgust. “You would have killed our other brothers for this. You told me that it was a weakness. And then you did this.”

“Then kill me.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “Do it, you fucking coward.”

Damocles’s expression went as unemotional as her own when she tried her best. “No,” he decided. “Take your crown. You don’t have what it takes to rule. Father will see it. I’ll prove what’s mine.” He gave a soft sound of disgust as he looked down at Xander. No. That’s not him anymore. “Say your last rites, Discordia. When you go to father’s palace on Tholos for the coronation, I expect you to be in control of yourself.”

He left her there alone.

Discordia knelt beside Xander and did as she promised: she said the last rites that guided him into the Avern. When she was finished, and her voice was hoarse from prayer, Discordia began plotting her escape.

Her revenge.

She was going to make the Empire burn.

48.

RHEA

Present day

Rhea watched Clo angle Zelus out into open space, preparing for another jump. They’d come up with a plan to land on Laguna.

Rhea hated it. It wasn’t as elegant as they’d hoped, nor was it easy, but after two solid days of Ariadne trawling through the guest list for the ceremony and plotting likely security scenarios, this was the best chance they had.

Unlawful docking on a Tholosian craft.

Kidnapping.

Identity theft.

And that was just to start.

Rhea figured they had already committed at least fifty crimes that were punishable by execution, so what were a few more to add to the list?

She distracted herself by flipping through the Tholosian-approved channels on the vid-screen, searching for any news of their escape on Macella. Nothing. It was as if it hadn’t occurred at all. “There’s no mention of what happened to the palace on any of these stations,” she told Clo. “They’re only covering the Archon’s speeches about the truce.”

“I’m telling you,” Clo said, easing the thrusters down to recover from the jump, “Damocles is keeping it quiet. The Archon would drop that fancy parade tour and delay the truce ceremony in a heartbeat if he found out his palace was destroyed by a Tholosian ship stolen by the resistance.”

Rhea and Clo were the only two on the bridge. Ariadne was running updates on the ship’s computer, making sure all was running smoothly after their mad dash through the labyrinthine streets on Macella. Nyx was with Cato, continuing the last rounds of his deprogramming regime.