At the palace's heart was a single tower. Its top was the highest point in the city, allowing it to be seen for miles in every direction.
It was there Graydon would find the man who'd demanded his attendance.
It didn't take long for Graydon to reach a pair of large doors with ornate designs carved into them. His steps didn't falter as a tingling sensation brushed along every inch of his skin. Though currently gentle, Graydon knew the sensation could turn painful in a second if the defenses decided he was an enemy.
Whether that pain would reach lethal levels would depend on the level of threat he posed.
The precaution was designed to safeguard the man inside against the incredibly small possibility of an assassin or enemy force penetrating this far into the palace.
Sensing his approach, the doors opened silently as if by invisible hands.
Graydon swept into the room beyond, not pausing to admire the beauty within as he headed to the set of staircases leading to the floors above.
Only the most trusted ever gained access. Of those, even fewer saw the views from the top floor.
Graydon didn't even pause as he bypassed the first landing. At the top of the stairs, he raised his hand and sent a pulse ofkiinto the air in front of him.
Hiskivibrated as he manipulated it to a frequency known only to four.
To the naked eye, nothing would seem to be amiss. Only someone with an exceptional mastery ofkiwould feel the field millimeters in front of Graydon's hand. If he were to step forward before he finished calibrating hiski,he would die a gruesome death.
Not even hiskior synth armor would be able to save him.
Seconds later, the field dropped and Graydon stepped into a room. A bank of windows on one wall offered a view of the city and ocean beyond. A large bed sat against the opposite wall with several sitting areas set up throughout the space.
Gold seemed to be the dominating color, fabric spilling from the bed's posts.
Despite the luxury, the room was welcoming, the air carrying the faint smell of a forest.
The space was empty except for the man in a chair by the windows.
Despite Graydon’s presence, he didn't look up, engrossed with the object in his hands, a small puzzle box. Only instead of manipulating it physically, the tiny metal pieces were shifting on their own.
As a demonstration of the finer theories ofkimanipulation, it was impressive—and rare. Graydon didn't think he knew anyone with such pinpoint control.
"You've come." The small snick of the puzzle pieces filled the room.
Unlike Graydon, the man wasn't dressed for war. He was clad in simple pants and wearing a black robe that glittered when he moved, like someone had trapped a galaxy in its depths.
"As you ordered," Graydon said.
The man's head lifted, a pair of eyes the color of gold staring coldly at Graydon from a face that was unlined with age despite the many centuries the man had lived. "Care to explain why you allowed an unauthorized ship to leave this planet."
"Roake's heir was on that ship."
Shooting it down would have effectively severed Roake's ties with them.
Roake would make for a difficult enemy. They were ruthless in their pursuit of justice. A blood feud with them would have resulted in consequences for the entire empire. Their House was small, but they were fierce.
The man went still, only the snick, snick of the puzzle box continuing. "How did that happen?"
"Through a series of unexpected events."
"Oh?"
Graydon hesitated, trying to find the best explanation. "Our suspicions were correct. Kira isn't the only survivor."
The movement of the puzzle box stopped. "Another survivor was on the ship."
