With his baliset slung by a leather strap over one shoulder, Rhombur Vernius hiked down the steep zigzag trail to the bottom of the black cliff. Castle Caladan loomed high over the rock face, stretching toward the billowing cumulus clouds and the cerulean sky. A strong early-afternoon breeze caressed his face.

Behind him, in one of those soaring Castle towers, his sister spent too much time brooding. As he paused to look back, he saw Kailea up there now, standing on her balcony. With forced cheer, he waved to her, but she did not respond. For months they had hardly spoken to one another. This time he shook his head and decided not to let her usual rebuff bother him. His sister’s expectations outweighed her reality.

It was a warm spring day, with gray gulls soaring on thermals over the whitecaps. Like one of the poor village fishermen, Rhombur wore a short-sleeved blue-and-white-striped shirt, fishing dungarees, and a blue cap jammed over his blond hair. Tessia sometimes walked along the shore with him, while other times she let him ponder by himself.

With Kailea’s dark moods in mind, the Ixian Prince descended a wooden stairway that cantilevered out over the cliff. He took care on the rough, moss-covered section of trail. It was a treacherous route, even in good weather: A careless misstep and he could tumble to the rocks below. Hardy green shrubs clung to crevices on the sheer rock face, along with orange and yellow succulents. Duke Leto, like his father before him, preferred to leave the path essentially natural, with minimal maintenance. “The life of a leader should not be too soft,” the Atreides men liked to say.

Rather than discussing his concerns with Tessia, Rhombur decided to soothe his troubled spirits by spending time on a small boat, drifting alone and playing the baliset. Not confident of his musical abilities, he preferred to practice away from the Castle anyway, where no critical ears could hear him.

After traversing a black-shingle downslope to the main dock, he took a steep wooden stairway down to a finger pier where a white motorboat bobbed gently in the waves. A purple-and-copper Ixian insignia marked the bow above letters that named the craft after his missing father: Dominic.

Each time Rhombur saw the name, he dreamed that his father might still be alive, somewhere in the Imperium. The Earl of House Vernius had disappeared— and with the passage of time all hope of locating him had faded. Dominic had never sent word, made no contact at all. He must be dead.

Rhombur unslung the baliset and laid the instrument on the dock. A cleat on the stern of the boat was missing one bolt, so he climbed aboard and opened a toolbox in the cockpit, where he found another bolt and a ratchet to tighten it down.

He liked to maintain his own boat, and sometimes hours would pass as he worked on it, sanding, painting, lacquering, replacing hardware, installing new electronics and fishing accessories. It was all so different from the pampered life he’d led on Ix. Now, as he stepped back onto the dock and made the simple repair, Rhombur wished he could be the leader that his father had been.

The chances of that seemed virtually nil.

Though Rhombur had made efforts to help the mysterious rebels on Ix, he hadn’t heard from them in over a year, and some of the weapons and explosives he’d sent had come back undelivered, despite bribes paid to transport workers. Even the most highly paid smugglers had been unable to infiltrate the material into the cavernous underground city.

No one knew what was going on there. C’tair Pilru, his primary contact with the freedom fighters, had fallen silent. Like Dominic himself, C’tair might be dead, the valiant struggle crushed with him. Rhombur had no way of knowing, no means of breaching the intense Tleilaxu security.

Hearing footsteps on the dock, Rhombur was surprised to see his sister approaching. Kailea wore a showy dress of silver and gold; a ruby clasp secured her copper-dark hair. He noticed that both of her shins were red and bruised, and that the hem of her dress was soiled.

“I tripped on the trail,” she admitted. She must have run after him, hurrying to catch up.

“You don’t often come down to the docks.” He forced a smile. “Would you like to go out on the boat with me?”

When Kailea shook her head, her curls bounced against her cheeks. “I’m here to apologize, Rhombur. I’m sorry I’ve been so mean to you, avoiding you, hardly saying anything at all.”

“And glaring at me,” he added.

Her emerald eyes flashed, before she caught herself and softened. “That, too.”

“Apology accepted.” He finished tightening down the cleat, then climbed back into the cockpit of the Dominic to put the tools away.

She remained on the dock after he stepped aboard. “Rhombur,” Kailea began in a plaintive tone that was only too familiar. It meant she wanted something, though her face was all innocence. “You and Tessia are so close— I just wish I had the same relationship with Leto.”

“Relationships require maintenance,” he said. “Uh, like this boat. With some time and care, you could repair things between you two.”

Her mouth twisted in a grimace of distaste. “But isn’t there anything more you can do about Leto? We can’t go on this way forever.”

“Do about him? It sounds like you want to dispose of him.”

His sister did not answer directly. “Victor should be his legal heir, not a bastard without name, title, or property. There must be something different you can say to Leto, something more you could try.”

“Vermilion hells, Kailea! I’ve tried fifty different times and fifty different ways, and he always turns me down. It’s already driven a wedge between us. Because of you, I may have lost my best friend.”

The glow of sunshine on her skin looked like distant firelight. “What does mere friendship matter, when we’re talking about the future of House Vernius— the Great House of our forefathers? Think about the important things, Rhombur.”

His expression turned to stone. “You’ve turned this into a problem, when it never had to be. You alone, Kailea. If you couldn’t accept the limitations, why did you agree to become Leto’s concubine at all? You two seemed so happy at first. Why don’t you apologize to him? Why not simply accept reality? Why don’t you make an effort?” Rhombur shook his head, stared at the fire-jewel ring on his right hand. “I’m not going to question Leto’s decisions. I may not agree with his reasons, but I understand them. He is Duke Atreides, and we owe him the respect of following his wishes.”

Kailea’s expression, which she had been keeping under control, changed to a disdainful sneer. “You’re not a Prince. Chiara says you’re not even a man.” She lifted one foot and stomped at the baliset, but in her rage lost her balance and dealt it only a glancing blow. The instrument skidded off the dock into the water, where it floated behind the boat.

Swearing, Rhombur leaned out over the edge of the dock and retrieved the baliset, as Kailea whirled and left. While drying the instrument with a towel, he watched her climb the steep path back to the Castle, half-running and half-walking. She stumbled, got back up, and kept going, trying to maintain her dignity.

No wonder Leto preferred the calm, intelligent Jessica. Kailea, once so sweet and kind, had become hard and cruel. He didn’t know her anymore. He sighed. I love her, but I don’t like her.