“My first order of business is to lead the rebuilding of the Moon Realm after the careless star dweller bombings. To the people of the Moon Realm, I say, do not fear, help is on the way.”

The reply is deafening. Shouts of “Thank you, Killen” and “We love you!” fill the air.

My brother uses his bobbing arms to quiet the crowd. “And then I will personally meet with the star and moon dweller leaders to help them work out their differences, to once again restore peace to the Tri-Realms.” More applause. More screams.

My fingernails are scraping the table and if Ben didn’t turn off the telebox right then, I fear my fingers would be cut and bleeding soon.

I stand up, cracking my knuckles. I’m seething, my emotions out of control, like a tidal wave of rage, but I don’t care. All I want is revenge. “I’ll go public—prove him wrong. Turn the people against him.”

Ben sighs. “He’s controlling everything right now, Tristan. We can’t get a message out to everyone. And even if we could, he’d just counter with another message refuting it. Who do you think the people will believe? The President, or his rogue son who’s desperately seeking his runaway mom?”

I stand there, my chest puffing in and out, my arms tight at my sides, my hands fisted. “Urr,” I growl and then sit back down. I feel better. I just needed to get the anger out. “I’m okay now,” I say. “Let’s talk about it.” Roc’s looking at me strangely, like I’m a weird new animal species who’s just demonstrated a bizarre mating ritual. I ignore him.

“There’s something else,” Morgan says. I groan inwardly. What else could there be? “Shortly after the initial broadcast from the President, he sent a typed message to all the moon dweller vice presidents. He said if any of them are harboring his son, to pass the message along to him.”

“So he admitted to his lies. We’ve got him,” Maia says, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Not exactly,” Ben says. “The message also warned them that if anyone tries to make the information public, that he would deny it, and destroy them. I don’t think any of the VPs, with the exception of VP Morgan here”—he motions across the table—“would be willing to go head-to-head with Nailin. They know what he’s capable of.”

“And if Morgan tries to do something, he’ll make an example of her,” I say. I know my father’s tactics all too well.

“This is good news,” Roc says suddenly, and all eyes shift to him. He raises a cheek and chews on the side of his mouth for a second, and then says, “If he sent the message to all the VPs, then he doesn’t have a clue where we’re hiding. So that’s good, right?”

He has a point. It’s not often my father is so in the dark about the goings-on in his own kingdom. It’s an advantage, albeit a small one.

“That’s a good point, Roc,” Ben says, nodding. Roc grins. I knew there was a reason I wanted him with me at these meetings.

“So what message did my loving father give me?” I ask.

Ben has a paper in front of him and he consults it, using his finger to guide his eyes across the page. “He said, ‘Tell Tristan he must contact me within twenty-four hours or I’ll start killing moon dwellers.’”

I cringe. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“He provides information on how to reach him directly from the Moon Realm.”

“Of course I’ll do it,” I say. “It’s not like he can do anything to me over a videoconference.”

“There’s one other thing,” Ben says.

“Yeah?”

“He wants Roc with you when you call him.”

“Roc? Why?”

“You tell me.”

Roc and I look at each other. His face wears the same expression I expect I’m wearing. Confusion. I don’t have the slightest idea what my father could want with Roc. I mean, in my eyes Roc is an amazing person, my best friend, but in my father’s eyes, he’s just a servant. Scum. No—lower than scum. Fungus on scum. Of no concern to him. And yet…there must be a reason he wants him there. And not an honorable reason. A way to get to me.

“I have no idea,” I say, while Roc shakes his head. “When can we do it?” I ask. I’m curious now, which probably means I’m falling right into my father’s trap, but I don’t care—I have to know what he’s playing at.

“Right now,” Ben says, standing up and pushing back his chair. “He said you must do it alone.”

“Fine. Will you be listening?”

“He said he would know if it was being transmitted to multiple receivers or being recorded. I don’t want to take the chance. You can give us the details afterward.”

I nod. “You ready?” I ask Roc.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’m ready.”

Chapter Thirteen

Adele

My life feels complete for the first time in a long time. I mean, we’re not one big happy family or anything, but at least my mom, dad, and sister are all alive and okay and I’ve been able to see them all recently. That’s about as good as it gets these days. So you’d think that would mean maybe I’d be at peace, or something like it, but instead, I’m throwing everything I have into training.

And that feels the most normal of all.

I grunt as our wooden staffs connect in the middle. The raw power of my opponent allows him to shove me backwards, crushing the wood into my lip. I taste coppery blood in my mouth as it splits open. He charges, swinging the rod back and forth like a sword. Use all parts of your body. I hear my father’s voice in my head and I obey, ducking my enemy’s attempted blow, crushing his kneecap with my heel, and slamming my elbow into his jaw. I take his head off. Not literally, but his head snaps back and he tumbles to the rock, yowling in pain.

Jamming the butt of my staff into his throat, I say, “Do you submit?”

He’s discarded his own staff and is rubbing his jaw and clutching his knee. “Uhhh,” he moans.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmur, moving away from him and out of the ring. It’s my fourth staff victory in a row. The dude was twice my size, but in some fights, size doesn’t matter.

Someone’s clapping. Brody. He’s been clapping after each of my victories. Beyond him I see Tawni and she gives me a thumbs-up. Next to her Trevor is glaring at me. There’s something not right about that guy.

Ignoring him, I stride over to the next station, archery, and pick up the bow. It’s brand new and practically sparkling. The arrow is like a violin bow as I move it along the catgut string. Although the target is at least two hundred feet away, I pull it toward me with my eyes, until it’s just in front of me, the bull’s eye like a throbbing red beacon. I make small movements, just like I’ve been taught, until I’m certain my aim is true.

Twang!

The bow sings and my arrow cuts sharply through the murky air, embedding itself in the dead center of the target.

“Another perfect shot—four for four,” Brody says, resuming his clap. “You’re doing well, Rose.”

“I completely missed the gun target,” I say, frowning.

“It was one shot,” Brody says, flashing a smile. “You’ll get better. I can teach you.”

“Really?” I say, lowering my voice so no one will hear our conversation. I don’t want to be accused of getting special treatment because of my mom, but I do want to learn how to shoot. I don’t know where it comes from—my drive. For some reason, ever since I was little, I’ve had to be the best at anything I try. Nothing less is acceptable. Anything less is failure.

I don’t want to shoot a gun, but if I have to, I will be the best at it.

“Sure. A lot of the soldiers get additional help on the side at the things they’re not natural at.” I make a face, and Brody says hurriedly, “Not that you’re not a natural—I mean, given your proficiency at archery you might be just as good with a gun once you get the hang of it.”