Then she sank to the darkest levels of his mind. There lurked his guilt for not being fast enough to save his sister, for being away from the commune when the guards attacked, for not protecting his people, the self-loathing of working with the priestess. In his mind, he was not a traitor. He did not betray his friends, he was saving them all. He was a hero. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep them safe and alive. Even tell the priestess when and where to capture the sun-kissed.

Shyla sifted through his memories of the conversations he’d had with the priestess, the exchanges of information, and the plans they made. It was an ugly, unpleasant task. One she didn’t relish. One that would take her a long time to recover from. But before leaving his soul, Shyla found a place where Jayden was at peace, where love and not hate resided. His emotions toward Mojag were pure. The fierce protection and brotherly love clear. Shyla paused and absorbed the goodness. This was what she wanted to remember when she thought of Jayden. Not the hate and pain of betrayal.

When she withdrew from his soul, Shyla became aware of her physical body. No longer frozen in place, she filled her lungs.

Ximen had his hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”

“Not really, but I will be.”

He nodded his understanding. Ximen wasn’t all right either. Mojag stared at Jayden, who was now curled in a ball on the floor. Tears welled from his amber eyes—the same color and shape as his sister’s.

“Did you…” Ximen twirled his hand. “You know…”

“Yes, I learned what we needed to know.”

“Do we have to evacuate?”

“No. Everything he told us was true.” She faced Mojag, putting her hands on his bony shoulders. “He loves you. All your interactions with him were genuine. He never lied to you.”

“But he lied to everyone else.”

“He believed he was doing the right thing for everyone.”

“Except you,” Ximen said.

True. “Let’s go. We’ve lots to do to prepare.” But she turned toward Jayden.

He’d uncurled and sat up, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

Shyla pushed the druk closer to him with the tip of her boot. “Being locked in total darkness is cruel, so you can have the druk.”

“You can’t leave me here,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked then pointed to the back of the chamber. “You’ve plenty of supplies for the next thirty sun jumps.”

Jayden spun. Water skins and rolls of jerky rested on the low stone table. A cushion sat next to it along with a small pile of scrolls—because they weren’t heartless. Collection buckets lined the far wall with a jar of cleanser.

“No,” he said with dawning horror. “No. You can’t.”