“Love is an interesting thing.” A knowing glow in his eyes, Jules looked pointedly at the Beta who’d made foolish decision after foolish decision all based on his love for Claire. “Svana will know we uncovered her betrayal in three hours. Her forces will attack immediately. I am telling you this because I know there is no way to stop them. Even if I kill her, even if you kill her, the slaves she has created will act out her will. Shepherd will be able to mediate a portion of the attack, but bombs will still detonate. How many, I cannot say. So, how will you save Claire?” Unflinching, Jules demanded, “You tell me where Svana is hiding, and I will tell you what Maryanne Cauley would not.”

“You have no proof that Leslie Kantor is Svana. I will tell you nothing.”

“Perhaps you are right. Sometimes it is best to let storms run their course.” Jules smiled, his whole face turned strange with the action. Straightening, he nodded his goodbye. “Claire is kept in the basement: corridor 7, sub-room 3. As the Citadel begins to crumble, she will be crushed to death. Or, if she is really unlucky, she will be trapped under layers of immovable rubble to slowly die from dehydration. Maybe her painting of you will keep her company in the dust and lonely dark.”

Once the door was closed and Corday was left alone with his thoughts, he began to shake. It was as if he’d just survived hours of torture, as if just a few soft-spoken words had irreparably damaged him.

Groaning, trying to roll away from whatever was shaking her awake, Claire found her body stiff and numb. Head swimming, it all started to come back. Thólos was going to be turned into a pile of corpses; the Red Consumption would be unleashed. A virus the man sitting at her side, the adoring mate holding her eyes, claimed could not be stopped.

“You have been sleeping for many hours, little one.” The purr came strong and sweet. “You must eat now.”

The last thing on the planet she wanted at that moment was food.

Claire opened her mouth to complain, only to have a spoonful of something pressed between her lips. Swallowing instinctively, still caught in the fog, she tried to focus on the one man who seemed to blur into two and make him listen.

Shepherd forced more food on her tongue.

“When you have finished, I will help you dress for the journey.” That raspy voice was commanding, almost stern, as if he were relaying orders to his Followers. “Then you will be sedated again.” A warm hand smoothed back the hair on her forehead. “And next time you wake up, we will be in our new home.”

“Please...” Claire barely had time to voice the entreaty before more soup was spooned into her mouth.

“It is important that you eat, or the anesthesia may make you ill. Swallow.”