In Lady Anirul’s wing of the Imperial Palace, Reverend Mother Mohiam glided into Jessica’s apartment without knocking.

Sensing the older woman’s presence, Jessica looked up from the rolltop desk, where she had been writing in the bound-parchment journal Anirul had given her. She laid her inkplume down and shut the volume. “Yes, Reverend Mother?”

“A fact has just been brought to my attention by our operative Tessia,” Mohiam said in the tone of a displeased schoolteacher. It was a voice Jessica had heard many times from the Proctor Superior. Mohiam could show compassion and kindness when she was pleased with her student, but she was also ruthless.

“We waited for you to conceive an Atreides daughter, pursuant to your orders. It is my understanding that you have been the Duke’s lover for three years? Three years gave you ample opportunity to become pregnant! I can only presume that you intentionally refused our instructions. I would like to know why.”

Though her heart lurched, Jessica locked onto Mohiam’s gaze, without wavering. She’d been expecting this, but still she felt like a little girl again, crushed by the disappointment her teacher had always been able to wield. “I am sorry, Reverend Mother.”

As Jessica watched the wrinkled lips move, she remembered how Mohiam had observed her, studied her every movement as she tested her with the deadly gom jabbar. The poison needle, the box of pain. With that needle at Jessica’s neck, Mohiam could have killed her in a fraction of a second.

“You were ordered to bear a child. You should have allowed yourself to become impregnated the first time you slept with him.”

Jessica managed to keep her voice firm, without cracking or stammering. “There are reasons, Reverend Mother. The Duke was bitter about his concubine Kailea, and suffered many political problems abroad. An unexpected child at that time would have been a great burden upon him. Later, he was distraught over the death of his son Victor.”

The older woman showed no sympathy whatsoever. “Upset enough to alter his sperm count? You are a Bene Gesserit. Surely I have taught you better than this? What were you thinking, child?”

Mohiam has always been expert at manipulating my emotions. She is doing it now. Jessica reminded herself that the Sisterhood took pride in understanding what it meant to be human. What more human act could I have committed than to bear a child for the man I love?

She refused to back down, speaking in a way that was sure to take her old teacher by surprise. “I am not your student anymore, Reverend Mother, so you will kindly not address me in such a condescending manner.”

The response took Mohiam aback. She stood silently.

“The Duke was not ready for another baby, and he had access to his own contraceptive measures.” Not a lie, just a diversion. “I am pregnant now. What is the point in chastising me? I can have as many daughters as you like.”

The Reverend Mother emitted a harsh laugh, but her face grew gentler. “Headstrong girl!” She backed out the door, a mixture of emotions playing across her face. She took a calming breath and glided away down the hallway. Her secret daughter had a stubborn, defiant streak. Mohiam decided it must be from the Harkonnen blood in her veins….

In the dry, artificially cooled air of the Residency at Arrakeen, Lady Margot Fenring watched with the sharp eyes of a Bene Gesserit as the Fremen housewoman methodically packed things for the extended trip to Kaitain. The woman, Mapes, had no sense of humor and virtually no personality, but she worked hard and followed instructions.

“Bring my immian-rose dresses, the peach and saffron wardrobe, and the full lavender gown for regular daily appearances at Court,” Margot commanded. “And also those transforming silkfilm garments for the nights, after Count Fenring returns from his business trip.” As she spoke, she concealed a slip of Imperial parchment from the eyes of her servant.

“Yes, my Lady.” Without a smile or a scowl, the dried husk of a woman folded the slippery, sexy undergarments and packed them with all the other items for Margot’s departure to Kaitain.

Almost certainly, this hardened desert woman understood much more about Lady Fenring than she let on. Years ago, in the dark of night, Mapes had led her to a hidden sietch in the mountains, taking her to see their Sayyadina, the Fremen equivalent of a Reverend Mother. Afterward, the entire sietch had disappeared. Mapes had never said another word about the incident and avoided all questions.

Now Count Fenring had departed again, and Margot knew her husband had secretly gone to the closed world of Ix, though he believed he kept all of his furtive movements and errands hidden from her. She let him maintain his little delusions, because it strengthened their marriage. In a universe of secrets, Margot kept many of her own, too.

“Have an early dinner prepared,” Margot ordered. “And be ready to depart with me in two hours.”

Her sinewy arms straining, Mapes sealed the fully packed suitcases and lifted them toward the door without using the attached suspensors. “I would prefer to remain here, my Lady, rather than taking the journey across space.”

Margot frowned at her, brooking no further discussion. “Nevertheless, you shall accompany me. Many ladies at Court will be curious to see a woman whose every breath, every meal, has been impregnated with spice. They will see your blue-within-blue eyes and think them pretty.”

Mapes turned away. “I have work to do here. Why should I waste time with pretentious fools?”

Margot’s laugh was light. “Because it would do the courtiers good to see a woman who knows how to work. Now that will be an exotic sight for them!”

Scowling in response, the houseservant trudged off with the two suitcases.

When Mapes had passed out of sight, Margot again touched the slip of Imperial parchment that had been sent to her by Courier. She ran her fingertips over the uneven coded bumps, searching for further subtleties in the brief message from Lady Anirul.

“We need your eyes here in the Palace. Jessica and her baby were nearly killed in an assassination attempt on the Emperor. We must keep them safe. Make excuses, but come quickly.”

Margot slipped the note into a pocket of her dress, then busied herself with final details.