out in front of me. Like a game of chess, a dozen moves ahead. I see what’s happening here, and where it will lead. And I know, with awful certainty, that there’s only two ways this can play out. Either Saedii capitulates and hands over Auri, which is never going to happen. Or Terrans and Syldrathi go to war again.
But the Ra’haam wins either way.
Because if Terra goes to war with the Unbroken, so do our allies, the Betraskans. That means the Aurora Legion is suddenly involved. The resulting conflict could end up sucking in every sentient race in the galaxy. And in that chaos, that carnage, that distraction, the Ra’haam will be left alone to gestate. Until it’s ready to hatch, erupting from its seed worlds through the nearby FoldGates.
Bloom and burst.
And then it has the galaxy.
“Saedii,” I gasp, my crotch still aching. “Don’t do this.”
“Be silent,” she says, not even sparing me a glance.
Her eyes are on a tactical display, now pulsing on the screen where the image of Princeps used to be. I can see the approaching Terran ships, two carriers laden with fighters, four destroyers armed to the teeth.
“They want you to shoot first,” I say, desperate now. “They want you to be the one who starts it. If you open fire on that fleet, it’ll shatter the neutrality between Syldrathi and Terrans, don’t you get it? It’ll mean we’re at war.”
She looks at me with those cold eyes.
“We are Warbreed, little Terran,” she says simply. “We were born for war.”
She presses the transmitter at her breast, and my heart sinks in my chest.
“Erien, notify the Neridaa that we are engaging hostile Terran forces.”
“At once, Templar.”
“Are weapons ready?”
“Awaiting your order, Templar.”
“Saedii, don’t!”
Her eyes narrow.
Her lips thin.
“Annihilate them,” she says.
14
KAL
The Andarael is a capital ship, crewed by over one thousand adepts, Paladins, dragoons, and support staff. So it is easy enough to avoid attention as we march toward the detention block. Zila shuffles before me through the ebb and flow, mag-restraints clasped but unlocked around her wrists. We receive the occasional glance, nothing more. But a part of me knows this subterfuge cannot last.
My chest is one dark bruise from the disruptor shot aboard the Totentanz. My ribs aching like white fire. The cigarillo case Adams gave me stopped the worst of the shot, but the Unbroken took the gift from me while I slumbered, and I have no idea where it is now. I suppose I may never know what was locked inside it. But regardless, I know it saved my life. I know we are part of a grand mystery here, decades or even centuries in the making.
What I cannot begin to fathom is how it will end.
Zila informed me that Tyler was taken to Saedii’s chambers for interrogation—retrieving him means confronting my sister directly. And wounded as I am, it will be hard enough getting my other squadmates out of detention without infiltrating the command and control center to rescue my Alpha.
My sister was always cruel, even when we were children. Our mother abhorred it, but our father encouraged it. I imagine the tortures she might be subjecting Tyler to. But then I push the concerns about Tyler from my mind.
First, last, and always, I must see to Aurora.
We arrive at the detention block, and immediately I note something amiss—the cells are overfull. It is uncommon for the Unbroken to take prisoners at all. Even on their largest ships, the detention facilities are small and often disused. But through the transparent walls, the crackling punishment fields, I see hundreds of figures. Syldrathi, all of them. They are thin and miserable, and my belly sinks as I note that each and every one bears an identical glyf on their brow. An eye crying five tears. The same glyf my mother bore.
Why in the name of the Void is Saedii capturing Waywalkers?
There is no time for questions. The adept manning the intake looks at Zila with faint puzzlement, turns his cool eyes to me. His desk is circular like the detention block around us. He is only a year or two older than me, but the trophies on his armor tell me that he is no novice.
“What is your business, adept?” he asks me.
I glance around the room, heart sinking. I had planned to bluff my way in here, overpower the few guards by surprise. But there are a dozen sentinels. Heavily armored. Fully armed. Warriors and killers, all. I see four of them gathered in