My brothers turn away to give us privacy. I brush a soft kiss across her lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t torture me; you saved me.” Her fingers hover over the cut in my forehead. “You’re bleeding. The wound in your arm looks nasty. You need a healer.”
“No time. We need to get out of here. There’s a med-kit in my pack. It’ll patch me up.”
“Do it now,” she insists. “You can hardly fly the shuttle if you’re about to pass out from your injuries.”
“Clever woman,” Sixth mutters under his breath. “I like her. She’s too smart for you, Danek.” I give him a death glare, and he returns it. He’s furious at the risk I’m taking—they all are. I’m in for one hell of a chewing out when I get back.
Kadir is counting the pods. “Three hundred and forty-five occupied stasis units,” he says. “The five pods on the bottom of the rightmost tower are empty. Something isn’t right.” He looks up. “Ruhan, I need a passenger manifest. Can you find me one?”
“Sure.” My brother transfers his attention to his tablet, and less than a minute later, ace hacker that he is, he smiles triumphantly. “Got it. Hang on, this isn’t right.”
“What is it?”
“These people.” He frowns. “Look at who they are. Three members of the Saaric. Seven ruling lords. Seventeen scientists. Lenox’s personal physician.” He inhales sharply. “They’re cleaning house.”
I stare at Kadir, shock bouncing around my gut. “What does this mean? Why now? What has changed?”
“I don’t know. The discovery of Ashara, maybe. Learning that Arax is alive, and that he now has a youngling who is a potential claimant on the throne. Who can tell? I need to alert Tarish. Dariux, Zunix, and Theldre might be able to make some sense of this.”
Naomi clears her throat. “Okay, this might be a stupid question, but how is the House of Cindifin mixed up in this?”
Clever girl. Kadir looks up. “I don’t know,” he admits. “We’ll find out.”
Mirak jerks his hand in the direction of the cockpit. “Okay, let’s get going. Nobody’s awake, so there’s nobody to convince. Danek, let’s get you and Naomi out of there before someone decides to review the battledroids’ feeds.”
Ruhan looks offended. “Give me a little credit. I’m blocking the feeds, obviously.”
I laugh. I hate to admit it, but it looks like Dariux was right. This mission was about as uncomplicated as they get. “Okay, let’s grab the floofs and—”
One of the stasis pods in front of me hisses open. A young man drags himself out. A boy, really. Brown hair, flopping over his forehead. Oddly familiar brown-purple eyes. Skinny. He’s wearing a turquoise prison jumpsuit. His right arm has the dreaded Draekon tattoo, the skin red and bruised. His knuckles are bruised too.
He fought the diagnosis. My stomach clenches in sympathy. I’ve never lived through the Testing—I was one of the original Draekons—but I know how it feels to have your world upended. This young man, who doesn’t look a day over twenty, has just had his life ripped from him.
He’s clutching his head, his face set in lines of pain.
Sixth snaps into the role of a scientist. “What you’re feeling is resonance sickness. There are drugs that will help. How bad is the pain?”
“Not unbearable. No worse than a bad headache.” The boy looks up for the first time. For an instant, his eyes are unfocused, and then he takes us in, and his expression hardens. “I’m on Noturn, am I?”
Why does he look familiar? “You know of the planet’s effects?”
He laughs, the sound short and ugly. “Oh, yes. It seems that my esteemed mother cut a deal with the scientists. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
Naomi gasps, her hand flying over her mouth. “You’re Director Lashi’vi’s son?”
“I’m House Cindifin’s dirty little secret. The bastard son, abandoned at birth, because his father was Lowborn. Left to die.” His lips twist into a bitter sneer. “Except I didn’t. Fuck them all. I pulled myself out of the gutter and I made something of myself, didn’t I?” He catches sight of the tattoo on his bicep, the red inked dragon that marks the end of his life, and his face crumples. “I was going to be honored for my work,” he says, his voice anguished. “Spymaster Ru’vi herself was going to be at the banquet.”
Ru’vi. Every instinct in me screams a warning. “You’re a spy.”
“Not any spy,” he says. “I was one of the best. Nobody could get into Blood Heart, not until they sent me.”
All five of us snap to attention. “Why were you watching Blood Heart? How recently were you there?”
He frowns at the barrage of questions. “I broke bread with First last week,” he answers. “I was good at my job. No, I was great. They sent so many people, and they were all discovered, and then they sent me. I got the High Empire valuable intelligence. I was in First’s inner circle, and none of that matters anymore, because I tested positive. The Draekon gene is the only thing that’s important.” His face crumples. “They sent me here to lose my mind. In three months, I’ll be a gibbering idiot.”
“Danek,” Kadir says urgently. “We need—”
“I know.” None of the Rebellion’s people have been able to infiltrate Blood Heart. Theldre’s last contact hasn’t sent us any intelligence in the last month. There’s been no contact. He or she—Theldre won’t say—might be dead.
This young man, standing in front of us, Lashi’vi’s son, might be our only source of information.
We need to get the hell out of here. I need to get him to the Rebellion so that we can debrief him. So that we can finally find out what First has been doing since Hetov.
I address him, my tone sympathetic. “I promise—you’re not going to be imprisoned here on Noturn. We’re going to fly this shuttle out, and we’re going to head to the Rebellion, where you will be
