"I don't want to take any chances with him," Kian said. "No one goes in there without the compulsion-filtering earpieces."
Annani nodded and took a deep breath, centering herself. She had faced many challenges in her long life, had confronted enemies and allies, and everything in between. But this was different. This was personal in a way that few things had ever been.
Navuh was not just her enemy. He was also family—twisted and corrupted and responsible for untold suffering, but family, nonetheless. The grandson of her father's half-brother. Her sister's mate. The father of her dear nephews.
Kian might regard all of that as irrelevant, void because of all the evil deeds Navuh had committed, and he might be right, but Annani had promised Areana to keep an open mind, and she was going to keep that promise.
"Please, open the door," she said.
Bridget activated the door using her phone, and as it swung out, Annani stepped into Navuh's room.
The lights were dim, and the room looked almost cozy, with the hospital bed dominating most of the space. An array of medical equipment stood against the back wall, beeping softly and displaying all kinds of graphs on the various monitors.
And there, in the center of it all, was the male who had haunted her and her people for five thousand years.
He turned his head as she entered—slowly, with obvious effort, but he turned it nonetheless. His dark eyes found hers and Annani felt a chill run down her spine.
He looked like a shadow of his former self.
The great Navuh, head of the Brotherhood, was reduced to a broken body in a hospital bed. His face was gaunt, his cheeks hollowed, and his skin grayish.
But his eyes were the same as she remembered from all those years ago. Sharp and calculating, missing nothing, revealing nothing. And they were cold. Much colder than the ones she remembered. Those were the eyes of a predator, even when the predator could not move.
She had expected to feel triumph at seeing him like this. Perhaps even satisfaction, a sense of justice finally served after five thousand years of fighting for her life, for her clan, for humanity.
Instead, she felt pity mixed with a profound sadness for everything that might have been and never was. This was Ekin's grandson, the descendant of a god who had been kind and just and good. And once upon a time, Navuh himself had not been the monster he had later become.
What had twisted him?
What had introduced such darkness into his heart?
Kian stood beside her, with Anandur and Brundar guarding the door.
Navuh watched her with those dark, calculating eyes, and she watched him back.
Neither of them spoke.
The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the monitors.
The moment stretched, weighted down by five thousand years of animosity, of war, of loss, of blood spilled and lives destroyed.
25
NAVUH
Navuh had been expecting visitors, even though no one had told him to expect anyone.
Bridget had entered his room earlier with an apologetic expression on her face and asked Areana to leave so he could rest. She'd never done that before, not unless he had requested it to preserve his dignity while the nurse performed various unpleasant tasks.
But if the doctor really wanted him to rest, she would have lowered the back of his bed after Areana left, and she hadn't. He was still in the semi-reclined position the physician allowed for when he had company.
Nevertheless, when the door finally swung open and his archnemesis entered the room, Navuh had a hard time schooling his expression.
Over five thousand years had passed since he had last seen Annani in person, but it might as well have been yesterday. She was still tiny, her mane of red hair still spilled down her back, and she still carried the same aura of power.
Annani had been barely more than a girl when they had last met, a princess playing at politics, manipulating her father and upending the entire world with her schemes.
Now she was a queen, radiating an authority that was far greater than her diminutive stature might have implied.
