Every noble family has its dark secrets.

—REVEREND MOTHER RAQUELLA BERTO-ANIRUL, Sisterhood records

Valya Harkonnen reveled in every day she and her fellow Sisters spent at the Imperial Court. This was where she and her brother belonged, not Lankiveil. Even though she was just a member of the Reverend Mother’s entourage, she was still inside the Imperial Palace in Zimia. It gave her a better idea of what her family deserved.

In the past, the Harkonnens had been at the heart of the old League of Nobles, well respected, with an honored history. But thanks to Vorian Atreides, who disgraced Abulurd all those years ago, they were shut out of the circles of power. The reminder gnawed at her, but she used Sisterhood techniques to calm herself and focus her thoughts. Nevertheless, as she looked around at court, she could see the possibilities.

To everyone else here, even to Anna Corrino, she was merely Sister Valya. Her family name was never mentioned. Someday, though …

Now, she accompanied the Reverend Mother to an audience of the wealthiest Landsraad leaders. She could not stop thinking that the Harkonnens were nobles, too, even though their bloodline had been pruned from the Imperial family tree.

When Reverend Mother Raquella presented herself and her entourage to the Emperor the first evening, Salvador gave them only a cursory greeting. “I hope your school can help my dear sister. She needs guidance and instruction.”

“We will watch her carefully, Sire.” Raquella bowed. “And see to it that she reaches her potential.”

In the midst of his private meal, the Emperor wiped his mouth with a shimmering napkin, then frowned at the remnants of food on his tray, as if he had lost his appetite. He seemed to be suffering from indigestion. “I am anxious to get Anna away from here, and I trust your discretion to draw as little attention as possible. No need to add fuel to the scandal.” Valya could read the embarrassment on his face.

However, the next spacefolder from Salusa to Rossak would not depart for two days, so they remained as guests in the Imperial Palace. Valya didn’t mind a bit. She drank in the details of the experience, knowing her ancestors had walked the same halls and slept in the same rooms. Her father would have been a duke or a baron in the Landsraad, if their family heritage had not been stripped away. Such thoughts always angered her, and she calmed herself by thinking instead about her brother and how hard Griffin studied to become Lankiveil’s official representative to Salusa Secundus. She was sure he would pass his exams.

Meanwhile, Valya tried to work her way closer to Anna Corrino, but the Emperor’s sister had no interest in being social, choosing instead to sulk in her quarters. Once they got to Rossak, though, there would be time enough to make friends with her, under circumstances that were not in the Princess’s control. Valya did not intend to waste her time here in the Imperial capital. Feeling like a schoolgirl or a tourist, she had asked the Reverend Mother if they might attend the Emperor’s business meeting, so that she could observe and dream about what might have been. When Raquella made the request, Sister Dorotea easily obtained an invitation for them to sit in on the proceedings.

Salvador held his audience in an antechamber of the Palace’s Autumn Wing, beneath a dome painted with vivid frescoes of the Butlers fighting heroic battles against thinking machines. Facing the audience, the Emperor sat on a great golden chair atop a dais. This secondary chamber was half empty, and the unoccupied seats had been withdrawn into the stone floor, leaving only the appropriate number of benches for the fifty participants to gather close to the throne.

“Today I’ve decided to have a more intimate session.” Salvador’s voice echoed across the speaker system, with the volume adjusted too loud for the small audience. He waited for a court technician to reset the controls, then started over. “We have certain economic issues to discuss, areas where planetary leaders can be more cooperative with one another than in the past—for our mutual benefit, of course. With that in mind, I have brought a number of expert witnesses to testify.”

Two men in business uniforms filed onto a platform at the base of the dais; one stepped up to a podium and activated a holo-prompter. For several minutes he droned on about tariffs imposed on materials imported between various star systems, surcharges imposed by Venport Holdings for the transport, and the significantly increased risks of contracting with lower-priced shipping companies that did not use the mysterious Navigators. In spite of her giddiness at sitting in on the special session, Valya found it dull—until the gilded door of the hall’s main entrance swung open.

A tall, hawk-featured man strode forward, dressed in an old-fashioned, militaristic costume. Looking closer, Valya thought it might be an authentic Army of Humanity uniform from decades ago, adorned with braids and rank insignia. The other attendees of the meeting turned to look, muttering at the interruption; some even seemed relieved for the break from the tedious speech. Valya thought the visitor looked like an actor from a historical drama of the Jihad. Something about him seemed strangely familiar.

The man’s focus was too sharp to be distracted by the din of surprised conversation. He marched straight to the podium like a general capturing a strategic hill, and nudged the startled economist out of the way. “It’s been more than eighty years since I was last on Salusa, so some of you might not know who I am.” He ran his gaze up and down Emperor Salvador on the throne, as if assessing him. “I can see the Butler in you, Sire, a bit more of Quentin than Faykan.”

Salvador bristled on his throne. “I don’t recognize you, sir. Explain yourself.”

Valya suddenly knew who the man was, or had to be. He was still alive? A chill ran down her spine, and loathing kept her speechless. She had spent a great deal of time staring at his image, hating what he had done to her family, to her future. But he was still alive? It seemed inconceivable.

Since her arrival, she had seen statues of Vorian Atreides in Zimia, and she had studied records of his adventures with Xavier Harkonnen, memorizing his damning speech at Abulurd’s trial, which had brought about the downfall of her whole family. Amazingly, the man’s appearance had not changed over the course of the Jihad … but that was to be expected. The life-extension treatment given to him by General Agamemnon was a matter of public record.

Throughout her life, Valya had known that Vorian Atreides was the cause of her family’s disgrace, but it was always a distant, theoretical thing. He had disappeared generations ago. Assuming he must be dead, she had hoped that he’d suffered a horrible, painful death.

Now he was here! Her pulse raced, and her skin felt hot with anger.

“I am Vorian Atreides,” he said, as if expecting applause. Others had been muttering his name. Reverend Mother Raquella looked stunned, though she had a most peculiar sparkle in her eyes. Salvador sat up, one of the last in the chamber to grasp the identity of the intruder.

“I’m here to demand protection for my world and the end to an injustice. Raiders recently struck our planet of Kepler, took my people. I just came from the slave markets of Poritrin, where I liberated them.”

The Emperor sat forward on his throne, and his voice sounded across the chamber’s speaker system, again too loud. “Kepler? Never heard of the place.” He looked around, but no adviser stood close to him. “That’s where you’ve been all these years?”

“I had hoped to begin anew there. After all I contributed to the Jihad, this isn’t too much to ask, is it, Emperor Salvador?”

“No, of course not. If you truly are who you say, then you deserve it. You retired a hero.”

Vorian stood straight, not bowing before the throne. “I am here to request protection for my planet and people. While I would prefer that you shut down the Poritrin flesh markets and outlaw the practice of slavery, I know that will never happen. It’s not realistic, because of the entrenched interests.” He looked at the befuddled economics expert who still seemed anxious to complete his presentation. “However, Sire, I will accept your guarantee of protection for Kepler, so that slavers never bother us again.” He continued to look at Salvador as if the rest of the audience did not exist … as if Valya did not exist. “I know you Corrinos can grant that much.”

“If you can prove who you are.” Salvador stepped down from his throne. His initial confusion had gradually slipped into awe. “I suppose that’s a possibility, Supreme Bashar. Do you still hold that rank?”

“Supreme Bashar,” Vor said. “Also, Hero of the Jihad, and before that I was Primero. I don’t know the ranks of your current military. Because of my honorable service, I was granted permission to use my rank as long as I lived—and in my case, that is a very long time. I will submit genetic proof of my identity, if that’s what you require.”

Salvador blinked, obviously not sure how to deal with such a legendary figure; mutters of admiration rippled through the crowd. “We need to discuss this further, sir, but for the moment we provisionally welcome you back to Salusa. House Corrino remembers your outstanding service during the Jihad and the great victories you achieved on our behalf. If not for your heroism, Supreme Bashar Atreides, none of us would be here today.” He came forward to shake Vorian’s hand.

The Emperor’s deferential attitude made Valya cringe. She thought she’d be sick.

The chamber erupted in cheers and shouts of approval, but Valya had to restrain herself from screaming. After what this bastard had done, how could the Emperor even consider honoring him? This man had crushed House Harkonnen and tossed her family on the garbage heap of history. He should be thrown into the deepest Salusan prison.

She wanted to launch herself toward him and attack with every fighting method she knew—but not now, not yet. She had learned patience and planning during her years in the Sisterhood. Now she was here to assist Reverend Mother Raquella and become a companion to the Emperor’s sister. She did not want to throw away the opportunity to restore legitimacy to her family.

Her brother, on the other hand, could take care of the rest. She trusted Griffin, and she knew he would do it for her. Now that Valya knew Vorian Atreides was alive, and which planet he called home, Griffin could track him down and take the revenge that his family honor required.