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“Five more minutes?” Tavi pleaded, looking back at Ryneth.
“Rest, little star,” Ryneth said softly, his heart aching. “I’ll call you soon. I promise. I’ll come see the garden with you as soon as I can.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The screen flickered and died, leaving the kitchen in sudden, heavy silence. Ryneth stared at the empty space where his brother had been, his shoulders shaking. He felt a warm hand settle on the back of his neck, Daven’s thumb tracing the line of his jaw.
“He’s safe, aethera. They all are. That’s what it means when you’re mine.”
Ryneth leaned back into Daven’s heat, his eyes closing. He knew the price of this place, but for the first time in his life, staying didn’t feel like losing.
26
DAVEN
Moargan’s kitchen was already loud by the time Daven and Ryneth arrived. Beer bottles crowded the marble island, and someone had opened the terrace doors, letting the evening air of Helion drift through the room. Somewhere outside, distant thunder rolled across the city. Yure had taken over the entire corner wall again, his hands moving fast across three different screens while the others watched the surveillance feeds cycle through the lower sectors. No one bothered with greetings. They were all there for the same reason.
“Motherfuckers have been playing us all along.” Moargan stood against the far wall, broad shoulders tense, his blond hair mussed like he’d dragged a hand through it too many times. “Kylix went to collect the intel Concordant promised on Attica, but it looks like they’re standing him up. He’s been standing in front of locked doors. I hate to say it, but it feels like Father might finally have been wrong.”
Ignoring his cousin’s complaints, Daven grabbed two bottles from the fridge, leaning his hip against the island as he passed one to Ryneth. “Do we have a visual on Kylix?”
At the sound of Kylix’s name, Mirel, who sat on a stool next to Cyprian, visibly shivered.
“He’s going to be all right,” Cyprian soothed.
“I-I know.” Mirel smiled, but it looked forced.
Gently pushing Ryneth their way, Daven joined Moargan and Helianth by the window, where they could stare at Yure’s screen.
“He’s been out there for half an hour,” Helianth mumbled absentmindedly, then pointed at one of the surveillance cameras that sat on Yure’s screen. “What’s that?”
Yure barely looked up, his mouth tightening. “They froze it.”
Daven frowned. The camera showed the same stretch of street outside the tower, wind pushing the rain sideways through the lights. The Luminary guards stood exactly where they had been ten minutes ago.
“But the time stamp isn’t moving?” Helianth leaned closer to the screen.
Yure’s fingers stilled for a second. “They froze the feed. Same trick as before.”
“Who? Attica?” Helianth asked.
Yure tapped the screen. “And Concordant now, apparently. Light knows they can already rewrite flight records. If they’re freezing cameras too, that means they’re deeper in the systems than we thought.”
“And then it shows something else.” Moargan’s mouth tightened.
Yure nodded. “Sometimes a different street. Sometimes an empty hallway.” His mouth went flat. “Sometimes they make sure we see exactly what they want us to see.”
Ryneth shifted beside them. “Messages?”
Helianth snorted. “Bodies. Prisoners. One time they ran a full drug lab through the hospital cameras just to prove they could.”
Daven’s jaw tightened. Yure might sound controlled talking about their mind-fucking games, but they had already taken Ryneth once. He wouldn’t let that happen again.
Yure flicked the feed forward. The image jumped, stuttering for a second like a recording catching up with itself. “Point is,” he said, voice flat, “if someone wants us looking in one direction, they make damn sure we stay there.”
Helianth frowned at the frozen street. “So where’s Kylix then? If the cameras are locked.”
