Korac had fucked up. He knew it. It had taken little for Cinderken to get under the General’s skin, and that was an embarrassing commentary. He was simply too defensive of Sagan after everything Razor had forced her to endure. But staring across the corridor at her and the reassuring smile Sagan put on for Korac’s sake said he’d overreacted.
He returned with one of his own, communicating without words that Korac received Sagan’s message, loud and clear.
Something was wrong with Cinderken’s eyes, and there was too much on Korac’s mind.
Rumors.
Any word from Cinder was gossip, since the projection recordings were all gathered for evidence in Caedes’ ongoing investigation into Cinderken. The grand tales of a Nox impersonator competing in the races for a Rayne tribute’s favor—one who had arrived with him—were all unsubstantiated until the Generals signed off on them.
It was a good thing Korac was a General, then. Nox and Rayne surely weren’t foolish enough to go so public.
Surely.
Kyle cleared his throat, and Korac was so tense that he snapped to the Progeny, ready to pounce.
R.E.L.A.X.
With a nod, Kyle let him know it was forgiven, but…
Korac tried to exhale the anxiety. He’d crossed his arms and ankles to contain it, leaned back against the wall. The half-Aegis, half-Icarus, renowned for his composure, retreated into old meditative habits and unfurled his rigid-to-the-point-of-aching muscles one by one.
Korac couldn’t wait to finish the movie event with a few taunts at Pehton and a little inappropriate touching shared between him and Sagan. Then, he could return to his office and examine the evidence. Only if the sightings were substantial—actual proof—would he present his case to Sagan.
The door opened, and Xelan stepped out with a perplexed frown. His black eyes, with their midnight blue ring, were dilated.
The Co-Emperor was pissed.
Sagan was the first person Xelan made eye contact with, and he offered her a warm smile as he asked, “Are you all right?”
Her laughter was sweet, and she finished on a matching smile. “I’m fine. I appreciate your chivalry, but I’m tougher than I look.”
Andrew snorted. “That’s the damned truth.”
“Here, here,” Kyle added with a salute at the Seamswalker.
It was enough to make Korac smirk—just a little—before Xelan settled his furious gaze on his General. Shame, caustic and bitter, lanced through Korac.
Even after eight thousand years of separation, disappointing his Prince still cut the Imperial General to the quick.
He didn’t even try to argue his side. Korac straightened to attention with a fist to his chest, staring Xelan in the eye. Let him see his General’s regret.
Kyle and Andrew looked away, but Sagan watched on, wringing her hands in concern.
Xelan promised, “We’ll discuss your demerits in private. Until then, I don’t want you in the same room as our detainee.”
Fair.
And suddenly…
The censure melted from Xelan’s expression, and he slowly reached out to grip Korac’s shoulder, saying, “We aspire to surpass those who came before us. Let’s not repeat the sins of the previous wardens and their masters. No abuse. Ever.”
Korac hated to admit it, but Xelan could deliver an adequate motivational talk. It wasn’t splendid or anything. Just ‘okay.’ Korac gave a curt nod in answer. Not at all wishing to hide the mist in his eyes.
After everything Triss and Razor had subjected Gait’s prisoners to, Korac knew better.
Kyle cleared his throat again, and they all looked at him. “Sorry. This is really inspirational, but I’d like to report and get back to my date.”
‘Your grandmother’ went unspoken.
Funny how the vein in Xelan’s forehead throbbed when vexed and unable to do anything about it.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Right. Report, gentlemen.”
While Andrew went first, Sagan crossed the hall and tucked herself against Korac’s side. Andrew said, “Drugs are addling his intentions, I think. Never have I seen anything so sluggish and so hard to understand.”
Kyle gave a concurring nod, saying, “His history is filled with direct port loads of hallucinogens and downers.” With a gesture toward his nacre, Kyle added, “You know, the ports Razor installed in select clients.”
Sagan tried to hide it, but her little shudder made Korac squeeze her closer and chafe her arm.
Xelan bite his thumbnail a second before asking, “Was there anything in his memory which implicated him heavily with Celindria or implied he had any reason to despise the Shadow?”
There it was.
Xelan had narrowed down what was wrong with Cinderken’s eyes. Sheer hatred. The ice in the bones and venom in the veins kind of acrimony.
“Well, Cinderken’s not very old. I think he’s one of the youngest in Imminent’s nobility. Maybe nine thousands-years-old at most, but he’s effective at loansharking and worked his way up the ranks. Like all of Imminent, Cinderken eventually wanted to rule the Vast Collective. You stealing his pipe dream might be cause enough for some hate. As for Celindria, he was too small time to know her. From his memories, I’d say he’s never even met her.”
Sagan asked, “Could it be like the Imminent memory wipes?”
Xelan shot her a look of pride, and it gave Korac secondhand warm and fuzzies of which he immediately disguised behind his composed mask.
Kyle shook his head. “It’s hard to tell. His memory is full of blackouts from his drug use, like censor bars. He’s in the middle of one right now, and I think that’s likely why he got so aggressive with you.”
Andrew’s expression conceded and agreed. “It would explain why his intentions are all muddled. Give him a few days to sober up, and we can try again.”
Xelan ran a hand through his hair and blew the air from his cheeks before searching the faces in the room. Eventually, he said, “Right. Back to our night. Everyone try to relax.” He grinned. “Me included.”
Sagan took them back to the movie theater, and they all picked their way to their places without interrupting the action projected above. Korac and Sagan snuggled with Echo on a cushion near Karter and Para.
Home.
Shortly after they settled in, Pax came jumping down the tiers to hop into Korac’s arms. Unexpected and warm, he squeezed the boy who kissed his temple and whispered in his ear, “It’s time, Uncle Korac.”
Shocked.
Paled.
While Korac gaped, Pax pulled back and let him see the Atramentous in the child’s eyes. Solid midnight blue with a white stripe of a pupil. He repeated, “It’s time.”
As abruptly as he’d come, Pax giggled and hopped back up to his parents.
Sagan leaned in and whispered, “What did he say?”
Korac promised, “I’ll tell you tonight.”
Para and Karter were sad to see Echo go, but were happy for a night with the two of them alone—It had been a while for them, what with Chris and Bones joining their poly arrangement.
Sagan insisted on carrying Echo through the conduit, while Korac carried in the infant’s stroller and luggage. They both made their way up the stairs in the Chalet to the nursery, right off their master suites. Once they had Echo tucked into her blanket, Sagan looked at Korac expectantly.
He smirked, enjoying how much his wife delighted in this moment. After kissing her temple, Korac leaned over the Aegis crib and sang an ancient Icarean battle song in his native language. A tale of fighting the sun and reining in the stars.
Sagan beamed, and her eyes glistened. Always.
Echo cooed and smiled at her dad before her eyes blinked longer and longer. Korac brushed a hand across her white feathers and kissed her pitch-black cheek. It must’ve tickled because Echo giggled and immediately tuckered out.
As Korac straightened and faced his wife, something with more fire had replaced the maternal admiration on her face.
Sagan gripped the front of his black button down and pulled Korac to her for a greedy kiss. The smacking might wake their baby, so he maneuvered Sagan into their bedroom. There, they enjoyed the last vestiges of their honeymoon.
Afterward, Korac left Sagan sleeping, hopped into some pajama bottoms, and headed for his office. He had a promise to fulfill.
Elden’s missing nacre.
The reports from W³.
And now this.
The footage Caedes had confiscated from the races—
It was Rayne, and it was Nox.
Alive.
And kissing.
Without waiting for her to wake on her own, Korac rushed to the bedroom and gently woke Sagan. “I have something important to tell you.”
Sagan, with her bed head and the precious freckles on her nose, mumbled, “Hmm?” In her sleepiness, she cradled his face and kissed his forehead.
What could Korac say?
How…
“Fuck it. Sagan, Rayne is alive and so is Nox.”
Sagan’s eyes went from heavy in sleep to wide open and blinking. Korac could see her pulse pounding against her neck and was suddenly hit with a craving—
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Her voice was breathy with shock and…
Hope.
A ray of it blossomed in Sagan’s amethyst eyes.
Korac took her hands from his face and squeezed, trying to bare his secret completely.
It took twenty minutes.
By the end, Korac had convinced Sagan to come into his office and watch the footage, which she was doing, presently.
The image of Nox nearly dying to the whaleshark but emerging victorious filled Korac with the same admiration he’d harbored for an Icarus he’d always considered as a brother since their first encounter. Of course, the kiss which followed evoked other emotions. Mostly confusion. Somewhat relief.
And hope.
Sagan watched quietly all the way through to Rayne kissing Nox in the winner’s circle, much to the delight of many, many spectators. The projection finished, and Sagan continued to stare at where it had been without a word.
Korac knew this was excellent news, but perhaps not all of it was welcome. After all, Rayne was hiding from the Shadow. Hiding Nox from the Shadow. It might embitter some people toward her—
“Rayne’s alive.”
The sob which broke from Sagan made Korac spin her in the chair to face him. She was crying, but beneath the tears was the most beautiful smile.
“That’s right, amos. Rayne’s alive.”
Sagan sprung into his arms and squeezed tight. Korac had never felt so much like a hero.
And never had he felt happier until she said, “Let’s go find your brother.”
Korac would marry Sagan again if he could.