"Sibyl, why are you here?" yelled Christof. "Why are you in that body?"

Sibyl remained on the floor, cowering from Christof's pointed gun. Her body was Winnie's—which had been Alex's. That begged the question.

"Where is Alexander?" he yelled.

"Why?" she wailed.

"Where is he?"

"What are you going to do to him?"

"What do you think?"

"You can't hurt him."

"He's out of control, Sibyl. Don't you know what he's been doing, here, in this tower alone. The man is psychotic."

"He knew you'd do this. He knew you'd all come after him. He's only doing what you make him do."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's just trying to hold the empire together. He doesn't deserve to die for that. It's you and Sakhr who keep making him do the horrible things you don't want to."

"Why are you defending him? You hate Alex. You've always hated Alex."

"No, I haven't. Nobody ever trusts him, and it's not his fault. It's his power. He's a good person, we just never—"

"Are we talking about the same Alex? Just tell me where he is. Is he in your other body? Is that it? Is he planning to do something to Sakhr? Tell me."

"No! I can't." Sibyl cringed away as though expecting him to shoot her.

Christof lowered his weapon. "God, Sibyl. I'm not... did Alexander threaten you? Is that it?"

"No. I just can't."

"Tell me where—" He cut himself off. This was getting nowhere. Kneeling by her, he grabbed her chin. "Look at me. Look at me."

Her eyes dodged his at first, but she slipped up. He saw her mind only for a moment before she clenched her eyes. It was enough.

Sibyl was downright infatuated with Alex. She'd been feeling guilty about how she'd treated him all these years, which as far as Christof knew, was absolute indifference. Now Alex was in her every thought.

He'd done something to her. Christof didn't know what, but it had left her obsessed, and now she'd helped him get close to Sakhr without even considering why. However, Christof was not so juvenile. Alex had a body-swapping glyph—something Sakhr would never knowingly let him have.

"God damn it, Sibyl." He bolted from the room, over the dead exemplars, and to the stairwell. He got as far as the security checkpoint lobby when the exemplar on guard stopped him.

"Hey," he yelled. His hand rested on his holster. It was the man who'd flipped him off before.

"I can't," Christof said. "The queen is in danger."

"What happened to you?"

Christof looked down at himself. He had forgotten that blood stained his front. "I was attacked."

"By who?"

"I need to get to the queen right now. Let me through. This is..." He thought quickly. "As General, I'm ordering you to stand down or I will have you brought up on charges for aiding an assassination attempt against our queen." He was sure he had his terminology wrong. This imbecile wouldn't notice.

"Chill the fuck out," said the exemplar.

"Let me through."

"They know. They already caught the assassin."

"...What?"

"The whole citadel is on alert. The exemplars have secured the area."

"The exemplars?"

"The queen is fine. Now what the fuck happened to you?"

"I'm fine. I... need to go."

"Hold on there. What happened upstairs?"

"No," Christof said distantly. He walked around the man.

"Hey," the exemplar called. "Hey!"

Christof was already out the door. The man would certainly report him—a blood-spattered General walking around during high alert. Christof didn't care. Either everything would be just fine, or...

Christof ducked out of view, as up ahead two exemplars on deck were carrying a body between them from the bridge spire. They'd wrapped it in plastic. Red seeped out.

It didn't matter what body that was. What mattered was who had possessed it when it died, and it wasn't Alex. If Sakhr had figured out what Alex was up to, the last thing he'd do is surround himself with crooked exemplars.

Which meant Sakhr was gone.

The thought felt hollow, lacking impact. Maybe in time he could think about how his oldest friend had just died. Right now, he was in mortal danger. He'd killed two men, and Sibyl could attest to what he was doing, that's assuming Alexander didn't already know.

All at once, he had a plan. It spanned days. There were details to fill out, but that could come later. He started with step one.

Calmly, Christof walked to the stateroom spire. Officers in the common area saluted, even as they eyed the blood on his uniform. No one questioned it. He was a general with somewhere to go.

In his quarters, he threw off his uniform and scrubbed his hands in his miniature steel sink. The faucet pressure was on par with any flying craft with limited resources. It took ages before the water stopped running red. Blood still covered his arms and chest, but he made do wiping himself with a towel. Any minute, someone would be at his door. He mustn't be here when that happened.

After putting on a clean uniform, he reentered his bathroom. Fenced off inside his shower was Helena, where he'd been feeding and caring for her for the past week. She was sleeping, head in her shell. Poor girl. Tyrants were fighting over her body, and the worst had won. Nothing would stop Alex from getting his hands on her now. Every time a woman got the better of him, he could never let it go. This poor girl would pay the price for what Winnie had done.

Christof picked her up and tucked her into his uniform alongside his plaque, resting her on it so that it protected her aura. Poking her head out, she looked at him. He couldn't read her mind, and her tortoise expression was as unreadable as ever.

"It's time for us to leave," he said. "Stay out of sight."

After a pause, she tucked herself further into his coat. That was confirmation enough for him. He left, down the stairs to the stateroom commons. From there, a ladderwell led him into the bowels of the citadel. The corridors were cramped. The walls were metal. This was the belly of the great behemoth that civilians never saw. He got several odd glances from soldiers as he continued down the stairs.

Deck One was where grid shuttles waited by the tube bay. He should be bluffing his way aboard a supply shuttle now, but something drove him farther down into the ship. He wasn't sure why he had to do this. Alexander would have countless victims to come, but this one was important to him.

At Deck five, his empathy winked out.

At Deck eight, he entered the brig. From there, he walked to the same wing he'd been going to for two days now. The cadet on guard saluted when Christof approached.

Christof acknowledge him. "I'm here for her again."

"Yes, General." The cadet fumbled for a card key while heading toward a prison cell. "Prisoner," he yelled. "Stand and put your arms through the slot."

Christof heard Naema climb to her feet ponderously. Stalling was her little rebellion. He had no way of telling her how little time they had. Finally her arms stuck through the slot. The guard cuffed her, unlocked the cell door, and led her out. She looked bored, and unimpressed.

Christof stopped him as he led her toward the interview room. "I'm transporting her out."

"What?" The guard blinked. "Nothin in the logs says anything about transfer, sir."

"Citadel is on alert," Christof said. "Someone attacked the queen."

"I know, sir, but I still need clearance to move a prisoner."

"There isn't time for clearance. The person who attacked the queen was a flair. For safety, we're moving all flairs off the citadel."

"A flair?" The guard glanced at Naema, then at Christof. That was something he hadn't know about the prisoner. "I still can't let you take her without hearing something from above."

"She's not a military prisoner," Christof explained. "The Exemplar Committee brought her in, and they've given me clearance to transport her out."

The cadet grew more uncomfortable. "It should still be in the logs, sir. If I could just call up and clear this, then I could let her go. And we're supposed to have a transport team."

"I don't give a shit, soldier. We don't have time to go through regulation. The queen was just attacked. I'm getting this security risk off the citadel now. If anyone gives you shit about it, tell them to talk to General Soto, but I'm taking her now. Are we going to have a problem?"

The guard hesitated. "No, sir" He handed Christof the keys to her cuffs.

Naema was staring at the tortoise in Christof's pocket. He yanked her along before she could remark. As they walked to the stairwell, she watched Christof curiously.

"Can you climb with those cuffs?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because I need you to climb the stairs."

"What about the elevator?"

"We're not using it."

"Why not?"

Because the elevators had security cameras, but this wasn't a conversation Christof wanted to have right now.

"Just trust me."

Naema read whatever she needed in Christof's anxious look. "You're my only friend, huh?"