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But they don’t get to decide for me.

I clench my jaw, looking at the hard rock of the mountainside, wanting to rend it in two, wanting to bore a hole through the sheer rock.

I wanted to be with them when I didn’t think we could have a family. I chose those decades, even if I would wither away while they stay powerful and in their prime. Even if we were destined for an unhappy ending.

That’s life. I saw my mother reduced to nothing, her voice, which had sung so beautifully, nothing more than a rasp at the end. Life doesn’t have a happy ending.

But I will not sacrifice the precious moments that we have. The triad has wounded me, torn me apart, but I am not broken.

Krazak doesn’t get to just strap me into a seat and send me off. Not after what I’ve endured. All my life, others have thought they were the makers of my destiny. Paulus, who lusted for power and thought that I would be intoxicated by his might when he rose in his station, had no idea I was hiding away food and plotting my escape. My father, who was working for my future, would be dead in a hole underground if I had not made a deal with the triad.

And Krazak and his triad,mytriad, are fools if they think I’ll just disappear without a fight.

I’ve been a pawn my whole life, tossed around the board by the whims and mistakes of others.

No longer.

But where would they go?

When I saw the Reavers returning from space, Orb-Shifting into existence, all but one went to the Royal City. Only my triad veered off to the mountains.

Now, with venom in their veins, they will have to go into hiding. They’ve not only stolen a Reaver, they’ve done something so unthinkable they can never rejoin their former army.

They are outlaws, from the Aurelian Empire, and from Obsidian’s army, whom they served so fanatically they branded themselves twice. They’ll be known as the Scorp-Blooded deserters, and they’ll be hunted down for the rest of their lives.

I’ve got to think, dammit. I need to clear my thoughts. Despite the tension, I take in a deep breath, staring at the long, spidery crack in the viewing pane.

Could they still be in the cave? No—they would know I’d regain control over the ship, and they’d be gone by now.

Barracks.There must be troop barracks on this planet. Odds are, in the Royal City. But no, dammit, they couldn’t go back there, not with venom in their veins. Even if they clad themselves in thick clothing, anyone could see the arteries in their necks throbbing green, the poison in their eyes.

I look upwards. Huge black ships pierce through the atmosphere like clockwork. I saw many as I sat at the window of the hotel in Ridgetown, waiting for my triad’s return. The forces of Obsidian and bolstering this planet, reinforcing it to prepare for a counterattack, setting up for their main campaign.

Something’s different though. My subconscious is alerting me to a difference in the pattern.

Small ships, Reavers and transports, darting towards the Royal City.

I start the engine of my ship that is not much more than a flying cockpit, jerkily taking off. My hands shake, and I veer towards the rock face, twisting the controls and grazing against granite as I take myself upwards to get a better view.

The planet is different than before the Aurelians came. North of the Royal City, the huge field is trampled by daily training marches of the ever-growing Fanatic forces. They are like black ants—but triads are breaking off from the strict formation, walking back towards the huge main gates of the city.

I hover in my ship, trying to figure it out. Is General Ra’al going to call his troops to war? If so, why would individual triads and ships be breaking off from the main army?

Ra’al. Rachel and Ra’al. They are my chance.

I want to smack myself. It’s so obvious, I don’t know how I didn’t think of it earlier. I was never that close to Rachel when we worked together, but she’s got the ear of the most powerful man on this planet. Krazak said that she became his Queen, and more importantly, she’s Bonded to them. She is the only one who could sway that man.

If I can just speak with her, maybe I can explain, convince her and the General to spare my triad, that they won’t have to live in fear. Even exile would be better than execution.

It’s a small chance, but the only solution I can think of. No matter how futile it feels, I pilot towards the Royal City. I take a roundabout route, going east, so that I go nowhere near the horde of Aurelians who are marching in formation. They’d shoot down any ship that comes near. I touch down in a field of wheat, and get out of my cockpit as two farmers yell at me from across the field, shouting that I am damaging their crops, so I hurry out and vault the fence, running towards the front of the city, where I can slip into the mass of people and be anonymous as I enter.

The huge stone walls of the city, so useless to protect the inhabitants against Scorp or arial assault, stand tall above me as I get to the main road. It is cobblestone, and I walk behind an automated wagon filled with chickens. I glance behind me. Far back on the road, two triads are marching with long-legged steps, hurrying towards the city. They look around my age, and both have the second brand on their forehead, yet no black ink marking them as honored among their species, and I can see the eager gleam in their eyes even from far away as they stare into the city, not watching where they are walking, as if the humans around them are nothing.

Above, on the tops of the walls, Aurelian triads patrol, making their rounds. One of the soldiers pauses, looking at me as I disappear into the crowd, then continues. One woman, alone, is no threat. A family is walking behind me, a man carrying his child on his shoulders while his wife walks at the side, happily chattering about how he was moved to the daytime shift in the factories. It’s a ten-minute walk to the main gate. I was expecting my legs to barely carry me after the rough sex and lack of sleep, but I am renewed, bolstered by my own resilience and determination. I’ve got new stores of energy. There’s a bounce in my step, my mind clear and focused.

I walk through the gates.

Even as a sweaty mess in a dirty hoodie, pulled over my forehead despite the morning sun, men look at me with too much interest. Gods, but I hate their stares. I always despised the way Paulus and the guards watched me, all of them wanting the same thing. They wanted to own me.