“And yet we found him in a comfortable cabin while we had been locked up and restrained.”
Nazerel had heard it all before. He’d watched the vidfiles of the tribunal and read the transcripts, searching for any inconsistency that would exonerate his father or at least cast doubt on Varrik’s story. He’d found none. The entire performance had been a carefully constructed lie, or Varrik had been telling the truth. For the first time, Nazerel allowed himself to admit that he wasn’t sure which alternative was accurate.
“I have only your word for any of this,” Nazerel snapped.
“For most of our lives, that would have been enough.”
The reminder only irritated the raw patches in Nazerel’s soul. Their past closeness was the primary reason Varrik’s betrayal hurt so badly. “And then you met Echo.”
“Why would I lie? Why would Echo? She had nothing to gain by spreading falsehoods and everything to lose. Lying during a tribunal is a serious crime.”
“You needed the location of the Shadow Maze and you murdered my father to get it!” Varrik had no intention of changing his story. This was an exasperating waste of time.
“Scan me. Look into my mind and learn the truth.” It was part challenge, part plea.
Nazerel glared at him. “I know the true scope of your powers. You can easily manipulate memories.”
“And you’re skilled enough to sense that sort of manipulation. Go on. Let’s end this once and for all. Or aren’t you interested in the truth?” The plea faded from his demeanor until only challenge remained.
Not sure why he was prolonging this futile conversation, Nazerel said, “This better not be some sort of trick. We still have Echo.” It was an idle threat and likely Varrik knew it. Still, Nazerel felt compelled to say something.
Even with his nanites boosting his natural abilities, Nazerel wasn’t able to penetrate the containment field, so he issued the command, decreasing the strength by twenty-five percent.
Varrik flashed through the barrier and grabbed Nazerel by the throat. “Never threaten my mate. I will not tolerate—”
Nazerel punched him in the face, snapping his head sharply to the side. Then he dragged Varrik’s hand away from his throat and propelled him backward with a burst of energy. “Get back in that cell! You’re not in a position to demand anything.”
Varrik’s only response was a fast, uppercut that Nazerel barely dodged. Another energy pulse sent Varrik stumbling backward, but he recovered quickly and charged Nazerel.
This confrontation had been brewing for months and now both men were fully engaged. Their nanites augmented their strength and speed, but they’d known each other their entire lives. Their arms and legs flew so fast their bodies blurred, yet few of their blows connected. They ducked and waved, twisted and lunged in a dizzying, semi-violent dance.
Nazerel faked with his left then put the full power of his body behind his right fist. Anticipating the first punch, Varrik jerked to the right and his nose collided with Nazerel’s knuckles. Blood gushed from both nostrils, coating Varrik’s face and Nazerel’s hand in a torrent of red. With an enraged cry, Varrik kicked Nazerel’s legs out from under him then followed him down to the floor. Varrik drew back his arm, but before he could land even one punch, he was dragged off Nazerel by three guards who must have been drawn by the commotion. A forth stood a short distance away with his pulse pistol aimed at Varrik’s head.
“Don’t kill him,” Nazerel ordered. “I’ve just begun to question him.
“Why is he out of his cell?” the one with the gun wanted to know.
The rings in Varrik’s eyes erupted with blue fire. Understanding the significance of the change, Nazerel scrambled to his feet and caught Varrik’s attention. “Don’t hurt them. Your quarrel is with me.”
“I don’t have a ‘quarrel’ with anyone. You threw the first punch,” Varrik snapped, his hands tightly fisted.
“You grabbed me by the throat.”
“You threatened my mate!”
They were nose to nose again, the guards struggling to hold back Varrik.
“Do you want him back in the cell or not?” one of the guards holding Varrik asked.
Varrik could have sent them all flying with a surge of kinetic energy, but his anger was entirely focused on Nazerel.
“Not yet,” Varrik told them. “He has something he must do first.”
All four guards looked at Nazerel for guidance.
“He’s right.” Nazerel wiped his bloody knuckles on his pant leg. “Release him and return to your stations.”
“Are you sure, sir? He still seems hostile.” The guard with the gun asked again.
“We were blowing off steam, nothing more. If either of us had meant to cause real damage, you’d be loading us onto hover carts bound for the infirmary. Now go.”
“Yes, sir.” All of the guards returned to their positions in the hallway.
Varrik wiped his nose on his sleeve, creating a red smear across his face in the process. “I can escape at any time. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Only if you leave Echo behind.”
“Echo is the High Queen’s daughter. One call from Charlotte, and Echo would be released.” Nazerel started to argue, but Varrik stopped him with a muttered curse. “My point is I don’t want this to be adversarial. I agreed to hunt you because I didn’t trust anyone else to bring you back alive. I know how exasperating you can be.”
“And you are the epitome of patience.”
“Are you going to scan me or not?” Varrik pinched the bridge of his nose as one side started bleeding again. “I’m losing interest in this exercise.”
Nazerel deactivated the containment field and motioned toward the small sink inside the cell. “Clean yourself up then I’ll scan you.”
With obvious reluctance, Varrik walked back into the cell.
Nazerel used the time to calm his spirit. It was impossible to assess another’s emotions while his were out of control. Varrik washed his face, pushed a piece of tissue into the stubborn nostril and then stood in the middle of the cell, arms folded over his chest. He stared at Nazerel without expression then a tiny opening formed in his mental shields.
Already dreading what he’d find, Nazerel slipped through the opening. He’d either learn that his bitterness toward his former best friend was justified or he’d see that his father was a traitor. Neither possibility held any appeal. Still, Nazerel needed to know the truth. Varrik drew him into the past, leading him to the night in question. But once they arrived at the scene, Varrik eased back, allowing Nazerel to explore on his own.
The scene was as Varrik had described, a small yet comfortable cabin, definitely not the location one generally found a prisoner. South turned around as Echo and Varrik entered. “Are we rescued?” The question might have been believable if it weren’t for the panic in his eyes.
“To require rescuing, one has to be in danger. Are you in danger?” Echo moved slowly forward.
South held up both hands. “Don’t come near me.” South sounded genuinely terrified, but Nazerel recognized the subtle cunning in his father’s expression.
Echo took another step toward South, and Nazerel felt a powerful surge of energy. She paled, swaying as South stabbed into her mind. At this point Nazerel could still argue that South was protecting himself from their attack, but the dynamic shifted rapidly.
Varrik steadied Echo as he forced his way into the power struggle. Nazerel ignored the protectiveness and anger blasting from Varrik and sank deeper into South’s being.
He’d never seen his father like this, never sensed his mind without the filter of a son’s devotion. Rage, bitterness and desperation spun like an emotional hurricane. How could South teach others to honor and revere customs he despised? The hypocrisy stung, tearing at everything Nazerel believed to be true, yet he’d come too far to turn back now. He scanned deeper, searching for motivations, anything that would explain his father’s actions. All he felt was South’s determinatio
n to escape the life he hated and live in comfort away from the world below.
Not wanting to experience his father’s death, Nazerel severed the connection and scrambled back from the cell. It was all true. Everything Varrik had told the tribunal was confirmed by his memories. South had betrayed his tribe and forced Varrik to kill him rather than take responsibility for his cowardly choices.
Nazerel commanded the containment field back to full strength. Then, not wanting Varrik to see the torment in his eyes, he turned around. “You were right. I admit it. Are you happy now?”
“None of this makes me happy. I didn’t want to kill him. I—”
“Had no other choice. Yes, I know.” Composed enough to face him again, Nazerel shot him a sidelong glare. “The past cannot be changed. We both need to focus on the future.”
Varrik scrubbed his hand over his jaw, clearly conflicted. “If this isn’t about avoiding punishment, then why are you here? What can General Nox offer you other than a place to hide?”
“It’s not in my best interest to explain.”
Varrik searched his gaze, a sadly familiar half-smile curving his lips. “You’re still the most stubborn man I’ve even known.”
“Except for yourself, don’t you mean?”
“Damn it, Nazerel. Tell me what you’ve got planned. It might not be too late to save you.”
His vehemence seemed genuine. Still, Nazerel wasn’t impressed. “That’s part of the problem. I don’t, nor have I ever, needed rescuing. If you behave yourself for the next few days, I might let you watch my plans unfold. It should be very entertaining.”
* * * * *
Freshly showered and adorned in a relatively modest dress, Morgan wandered around the cabin she shared with Nazerel. The door buzzer made her jump then she heard someone trigger the door from outside. Hadn’t Zilor said the doors could only be opened by the occupant?
Before her imagination could run away with her, Garin stepped into the room but he went no farther. “I apologize for the intrusion. I wasn’t sure if Nazerel taught you the proper command to trigger the door.”
“He hasn’t gotten around to it yet, but how were you able to open it from out there?”
His grin was unexpected and charming. “It’s my ship. I can open any door.”
“Of course you can.”
He turned to the side and motioned someone forward. The newcomer was female and dressed in an ankle-length skirt, but she wasn’t Rodyte. Her gently swirling purple eyes identified her homeworld as Ontariese. She’d pulled her golden-brown hair back into a messy ponytail and her features were delicate, yet striking.
“Echo dar Aune, meet Morgan Hoyt.”
Echo crossed the room with regal grace, her right hand extended. “I feel like I know you already.”
“And why is that?” Morgan automatically shook her hand, though she was curious to know why this stranger knew her name. Wait a minute. Echo. Wasn’t that the name of Varrik’s captive princess?
“Enjoy your visit,” Garin cut in. “I’ll return for you when, and if, your mates ever come to a consensus.” Without further ado, the general left.
“You’re Nazerel’s mate?”
She couldn’t tell if the catch in Echo’s voice had been disbelief or amusement. “So he tells me. And you’re the princess who inspired Varrik to abandon the world below.”
“Guilty as charged, though there was more to it than just me.”
“Why don’t we sit down?” She motioned toward the seating area beyond the bed. “If Nazerel and Varrik are trying to agree on anything, you’re going to be here a while.”
Echo nodded and followed her across the room. “This is rather awkward, but I feel obligated to ask. Were you brought here against your will?”
“‘Will’ is a curious thing.” Morgan sat facing Echo and tried not to laugh. Echo, of all people, should understand how quickly captor could become something very different. “Nazerel didn’t ask if I wanted to make this trip, but even before we left Earth I’m not sure I was entirely unwilling. These Rodyte men can be very persuasive.”
Echo didn’t bother holding back her smile. “You don’t have to explain that to me.”
“I pride myself in my self-sufficiency. I’m a very independent woman, so it’s absurd that I might have fallen this fast and this hard.”
“And yet, you can’t stop thinking about him and any future without him would be incomplete?”
“Not just incomplete, unthinkable.” Morgan sighed. She had very few female friends, yet pouring her heart out to Echo felt natural. “Is the general watching us? Seeing if I’ll divulge my deepest secrets to a fellow captive?”
Echo snickered. “Are there any of your deepest secrets Nazerel hasn’t already learned?”
“Probably not.” She pressed back into the sofa. “How did you find us so quickly?”
“Once Varrik realized Nazerel had left Earth, he knew where Nazerel would go.”
“Which is why Lor sent him after us. Varrik knows Nazerel better than anyone.”
“Lor sent us after Nazerel. We’re supposed to rescue you. As far as everyone is concerned you’re Nazerel’s hostage. You don’t have to be part of his prosecution, but there is no benefit from you sharing the blame.”
Understanding spread through Morgan reinforcing her calm. “Who had this conversation with you when you were ‘rescued’ from Varrik?”
Echo’s smile returned and a guilty flush colored her cheeks. “My mother. Gods was that awkward. She was convinced Varrik was evil incarnate and nothing I said was going to change her mind.”
“Then spare us both the awkwardness. Nazerel is no longer my captor and I won’t testify against him. Do I need to be more specific?”
“I think being introduced as his mate told me all I needed to know.”
“I’m glad.” Echo might seem friendly and easygoing, but they were still on opposite sides of the conflict. Morgan refused to say anything that would incriminate Nazerel, so she chose the next subject carefully. “Your mother is High Queen of Ontariese, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“Has she learned to accept Varrik?”
“I’m not sure ‘accept’ is the right word. She tolerates him because she knows how much I love him. Now my father,” she shook her head. “It’s all Papa can do to pretend to be civil to Varrik. Mostly they avoid each other.”
They could bore each other with small talk for the next few hours or Morgan could take advantage of this unexpected opportunity. Echo was Varrik’s mate. She had to know more about his past than what he’d put in the official reports. “Can I ask a really rude question? If you don’t want to answer I’ll understand.”
“I’m curious by nature.” Echo relaxed enough to scoot back in her chair and cross her legs. “I’ll have to at least hear the question now.”
“Nazerel blames you and Varrik for his father’s death. What really happened on the Rodyte ship? How did Elder South die?”
It took Echo a moment to answer and when she did her voice was soft and sad, hinting at deep regret. “Nazerel is right. We are responsible for South’s death.”
That wasn’t the answer Morgan had expected. And Echo had offered no caveat, no explanation. Had she miscalculated Echo’s basic nature? “Nazerel thinks you murdered South so you could learn the location of the Shadow Maze. Was there more to it than that?”
“Of course there was more to it. South was part of a much larger conspiracy that threatened my sister’s life. North was determined to take over the Shadow Maze and South was desperate to escape before Varrik brought the Ontarian military down on all their heads. South sold fifty hunters to the Rodytes in exchange for a secure and comfortable life on Rodymia.”
“Does Nazerel know about this?”
“He knows, but he doesn’t believe his father was capable of that sort of treachery.” Her legs uncrossed and she scooted back to the edge of her seat. “I saw a side of South I suspect he never showed his son. South reveled in
cruelty. He was utterly ruthless.” She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and released a deep sigh. “Even so, regardless of the circumstances, Varrik ended the life of Nazerel’s father. I’m not sure any friendship could recover from that.”
“This isn’t about friendship, it’s about justice.”
Echo’s brow furrowed and she tilted her head to one side. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Varrik feels his actions were justified by the needs of Tribe North. Nazerel sees it very differently. He feels like Varrik’s love for you robbed Tribe South of any choice they might have had when leaving the world below.”
“If they had been given the option of coming to Rodymia, would their lives have been any different?” Echo motioned to the ship around them. “This environment is not all that different from the City of Tears. Rodyte soldiers are still expected to obey orders and adhere to very strict rules.”
“I don’t think Rodymia is Nazerel’s final destination.”
After a thoughtful pause, Echo asked, “Earth?”
Morgan just smiled. She’d probably said too much already, but Echo was incredibly engaging.
“Why Earth? What can Tribe South find on that primitive planet that they can’t find in this star system?”
“Compatible females.” The answer was so obvious, Morgan was sure Echo was playing dumb to confirm her own suspicions. “There aren’t enough women on Ontariese for the men you’ve got now. How would an ex-Shadow Assassin ever convince an Ontarian woman to mate with him? And from what little I’ve learned about Rodymia, they have a strict social structure, a sort of caste system. Nazerel keeps referring to his cousins as part of the elite, but he never refers to himself the same way.”
“Even if the Shadow Assassins would fare better on Earth, why would humans allow them to immigrate?”
Morgan smiled. That was a question she might have asked a week ago. “I don’t think they plan on asking permission. In fact, Earth might end up with a larger illegal alien problem than they ever thought possible.”
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