“Invasion,” Adam replies. “Invasion is imminent.”

CHAPTER

TEN

SETRÁKUS RA HAS SOME OF HIS MINIONS STICK me in a cold room without any windows. No more polite conversations over nasty dinners, I guess. It’s so small in here that I can stand at the center, stretch out my arms and almost brush the opposing walls with my fingertips. There’s a little dome-shaped protrusion in the middle of the ceiling. I bet it’s a camera. Against one wall is a small metal desk with a chair that looks like it’s designed for maximum discomfort. On the desk is a copy of The Great Book of Mogadorian Progress.

I’m supposed to sit here and study my grandfather’s masterwork. Read three sections and spend at least twenty minutes in deep contemplation of each.

No thanks.

I’m not sure if it’s the same copy I used to hit that Mogadorian lady on my first day here. There are a lot of these books lying around the Anubis. It’s like the only thing the Mogs read. Anyway, they’ve chained this one to the desk to make sure I don’t turn it into a weapon.

Instead of studying, I lean against the wall farthest from the desk and wait for the Mogs to run out of patience. I try to ignore the itching sensation coming from the Mogadorian charm freshly burned into my ankle. If they’re watching me—and I’m almost certain that they’re always watching me—I don’t want them to see me looking uncomfortable.

I definitely don’t want them to know how disgusted I am at the idea of being connected to Setrákus Ra. The Mogs hate the Loric, but they fall over themselves to please their “Beloved Leader,” even though he used to be one of us. Based on what he told me at dinner, Setrákus Ra turned himself into some freakish hybrid species made from the powerful Legacies of an Elder and the technological advancements of the Mogs. Or so he says. It’s hard to figure out what’s fact and fiction with him. Whatever he is now—Loric, Mog or something in between—Setrákus Ra has spent centuries making the Mogs view him as a savior. As a god. Where he came from doesn’t matter to them anymore. And even though I get a few sideways looks from some of the soldiers aboard the Anubis, to most of the crew, I’m on Setrákus Ra’s level.

I’m the granddaughter of a self-proclaimed god. So far, that’s keeping me safe.

As if being blood relatives wasn’t enough, now we’re bonded by his version of a Loric charm. I remember feeling left out when I discovered all the other Garde were connected in the same way, all of them once protected by the same force. I wanted to be part of that. Now I’ve got two thick and jagged bands of scar tissue around my ankle.

Be careful what you wish for, Ella.

I’m zoning out, trying to think up a way to test what the charm does without hurting myself, when a noise starts playing in the room. It sounds almost exactly like a smoke alarm. At first it’s like a ringing in my ears, but seconds later it’s amplified enough that it drowns out my thoughts. I cover my ears, but the sound only gets louder. It’s coming through the walls from every direction at once.