What about Eridan? Samir asked softly through the merge.
He’s Idhron’s, Warrehn replied. You’re mine.
There was such force in that sentiment, it made Samir shiver. Yours, he confirmed, even though it was unneeded: Warrehn could feel everything he felt and knew how much he liked the idea. It should have felt scary, to bare his soul and mind that way to another person. It wasn’t. He liked being vulnerable, liked being vulnerable with this man, the absolute trust, the rush of fear and then acceptance, the I see you.
I’m sorry, Warrehn said. About your mother. I understand now, but…
I know, Samir said. He now understood, too, having felt Warrehn’s grief like his own. Samir loved his mother, but Warrehn had loved his own mother, too, the beautiful, golden-haired woman with sad, unsmiling eyes. That woman might have tried to kill Dalatteya and felt nothing but malice toward her, but she had been a good mother. And she deserved justice. I understand, War. It’s fine.
It wasn’t fine, not really, but Warrehn knew what he meant and wrapped him in a tight mental embrace that mirrored the physical hug he was giving him. Samir sighed, clinging to him, both sad and happy. At least they had each other. They always would.
“Your Majesty? Your Majesty!”
Warrehn dropped his hand from Samir’s telepathic point and the merge snapped.
Samir made a punched-out noise, feeling disoriented and so very alone in his head. Thankfully, the arms around him grounded him, and he exhaled, relaxing, and opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw were Warrehn’s blue eyes. There was concern in them, but there was a new softness and warmth too. “All right?” Warrehn said quietly, stroking his back.
Samir nodded, smiling. He was more than all right.
But then he frowned, noticing the dark sky outside the window behind Warrehn. How was it possible? It had been morning.
“We lost a lot of time in the merge,” Warrehn explained, stroking his back absently. His brows were furrowed in bemusement. “It happens sometimes, though it never happened to me before.”
“Your Majesty,” the AI said again.
“What is it?” Warrehn said with an irritated sigh, his gaze still on Samir.
“There was a call from the Ministry. They said it was urgent.”
Warrehn exchanged a look with Samir, and Samir shrugged, unsure what to think.
“Did they leave a message?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Play it,” Warrehn said, brushing his lips against Samir’s temple.
“One moment, Your Majesty.”
A hologram appeared in the air. It was a man wearing the Ministry’s uniform.
“Your Majesty, Dalatteya’il’zaver escaped.”
Chapter 26
Warrehn wasn’t amused by this turn of events.
“How is it possible?” he growled, entering the security room at the Ministry. “Wasn’t anyone guarding her?”
Samir followed him into the room, touching his wrist slightly with the tips of his fingers. The touch instantly calmed him, easing his frustration.
“There was, Your Majesty,” an officer said, bowing to them. “I’m Officer Marrat, in charge of the investigation. The prisoner had outside help. Look.” Turning to the numerous screens, he played one of the videos, enlarging it.
On the video, two men in hooded cloaks entered the corridor outside Dalatteya’s cell. The three men guarding the cell turned sharply, reaching for their guns, but they halted, making strangled noises and grabbing their throats frantically, as if they were choking.
It seemed to be the taller of the two men’s doing: he stepped forward, his hand clenched. The guards were losing consciousness one by one.
Warrehn frowned, watching the scene. Something tugged at his memory, and it took him a moment to remember why this seemed familiar. Eridan had such a talent too—the talent to choke people with his will when he was angry. It was an extremely rare telepathic gift, but the man doing it definitely wasn’t Eridan: he was tall, his hooded dark cloak failing to hide the breadth of his shoulders and his muscular build. Something about his posture was vaguely familiar to Warrehn, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Are they dead?” The other hooded man said. Warrehn recognized his voice. It was Uriel.
“Does it matter?” his companion said, taking a key card from the guard and opening the cell. He entered it, Uriel following him in.
“One moment,” Officer Marrat said, switching to another camera.
This one showed Dalatteya in her cell.
She was seated on her bed in a plain prison uniform, her long, luscious hair a stark contrast to the gray dullness of her surroundings. She was staring at the floor blankly, her face pale and her eyes shiny with tears.
Samir inhaled sharply, emanating distress.
Warrehn took his hand. Samir exhaled, leaning his shoulder against Warrehn’s. Officer Marrat glanced at them curiously, but looked away when Warrehn gave him a flat look.
On the video, the cell’s door opened and Dalatteya lifted her gaze. Her mouth fell open as she stared at the hooded man.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Uriel said quickly, stepping into the cell, too. “I know I defied your orders, but I didn’t know what else to do! I was pursued by the authorities and barely managed to get to the safe house. He convinced me that he could help me free you.”