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There’s a dull thud that brings me out of my dreaminess. Doman maneuvers the Reaver, and we dock against… nothing.

But as I look out of the viewport to understand, the stars look ever so slightly blurry to the left where we’ve affixed ourselves to something that defies the naked eye.

“The stealth ship is suited to long-distance travel?”

We’re putting everything into this plan. All the risk, all the stress, and now it relies on Cal.

And I’m looking for any flaw in the plan, unease permeating my mind.

“It’s not combat suited. But as long as it evades detection, it has everything it needs for decade-long voyages,” answers Gallien, as Titus stands. Doman squeezes my leg, and I wriggle away from him, kicking off my heels and standing. The smooth, cool floor is good against my naked feet as I walk with my triad to the back of the cockpit. The automatic cockpit doors open, and Titus leads the way into the hallway.

The doors hiss open, and I can’t suppress my gasp and instant fear as I see the void before us. Empty space yawns. I draw in a huge breath, but there’s no air rushing out of the doors, and as I force myself to step closer, I see the insides of the stealth ship. It defies and confounds my senses, not quite transparent, the stars beyond are blurry and warped. Cal, dressed in a polo shirt and shorts as if he’s going to a day in the country walks on nothingness and enters our ship.

He glances down at his watch, then cracks his knuckles and yawns. “You’re a few minutes late.”

“Had to shake an escort,” answers Titus, his voice growly and low, affronted by Cal’s nonchalance.

Then I hear it. The cry of a newborn babe. The hair rises on the back of my neck, and a tremble rushes through my body.

From down the corridor, the doors to the med-bay opens, and Fay is wheeled out, the elderly Aurelian doctor pushing her wheelchair. She’s sweaty, her hair a tangled mess, but there’s aglow in her tear-stained cheeks as she cradles the newborn tight against her.

In her arms, he looks made of porcelain, so fragile and precious.

The newborn doesn’t even look real. He’s a tiny little angel, a cherubic statue carved of marble. None of the black blood of his father courses through his veins. He goes perfectly silent, this tiny, innocent creature that could grow into a scourge that tears the universe in half.

When Fay sees my triad, she clutches her baby tighter against herself like one of us is going to rip him from her hands.

The doctor wheels her into the stealth ship, and the air ripples as the door closes shut, sealing her from us. My heart is pounding out of my chest.

“Tell me it’s over. Tell me your parents won’t suspect us.”

“It’s over.” Doman’s voice is pure certainty. “I’m their son. Their firstborn. The only person they trust as much as they trust each other. The doctor will be blamed, and he’ll never be seen again. Neither will Fay. Or the child. They’ll live out their lives somewhere safe. Somewhere far away.”

His voice has that calm rumble that soothes me. It works all too well. I stare up at him, so noble, so proud, a God among men who risked everything for me, for our future.

I put my hand against my heart, feeling my pulse slow, then quicken once more, and this time, not from fear.

Staring up at my towering triad, I feel I’ve known them forever. They used to be so alien to me, conquerors who would take an innocent prisoner for their war. Doman went against his own family. The triad went against their own Empire, to do what was right.

Now I feel so close to them, and the only thing that looks out of place on them are the obscene black rings that pulse and suck in the light.

“I’m ready.” The words spill past my lips. It sounds so right. Visions of the three men rush through my mind, and I remember when Doman first pulled off the ring and tasted my scent, going mad with lust, barely keeping control.

I’ve been aching for this for so long, but I was never able to give myself to them. Not fully.

Now, I’ve never been so certain.

I reach to pull the ring from Doman’s finger, and he curls his hand into a fist.

“I’m sorry, Adriana.” His voice is a rasp. Titus turns, silent, and walks through the door into the cockpit. Gallien follows, unable to look me in the eye before he turns his back to me.

I’m alone with the crown prince, and I stare up at a stranger. His face is a cold mask.

“What have you done?”

“What I had to. My race is dying, Adriana. We’re killing each other off. I’ve watched so many of my friends cut down, so many mangled to the point they can’t even make it to the cryo-bays… this could only end one way. My blade. Now I have the leverage to finish this.”

“Secure coms-link open.” Gallien’s voice cuts through my confusion, a cold order from the cockpit. Doman turns, his robe swishing as he marches to his triad.