Prologue

Bandor, Prince of Pollux, stared up at the night sky and wondered if his sister was looking at the same stars. For a moment, he allowed himself to think about her, how much he wished she was with him. She was the only mother he had ever known. It was she who had slept in the nursery --no soothe--his cries. He remembered the clean, refreshing scent of her thick blonde hair when she held him to her. With her, he felt safe.

And then one day he woke up and she was gone.

Bandor straightened his shoulders. Since Romelle had been taken away, he had been forced to fend for himself. Avok and King Coba were adamant about him learning their ways so that when he rose to the throne, he would keep the iron fist that was clenched around his people intact. Bandor had done as he was told. He had wiped out his first village at the tender age of nine and now, five years later, he was an old war veteran.

But beneath it all, he died each time he gave the order to fire in his quiet voice. It was a testament to his cowardice that he did not speak against his father or brother about his feelings, knowing that he would be killed for it.

"Bandor," Avoc growled behind him. "You should be preparing for our attack. Not standing around doing nothing."

He turned to face his older brother. The ruthless gleam in Avoc's eyes reminded Bandor of General Niloc. It was under Niloc's orders that they would attack in three days time. Bandor knew Niloc was up to something, but he would do as he was told.

At his brother's side, he would watch as their ships opened fire on the Castle of Lions.