Page 103 of Blinding Light

“Cyprian…” Moargan glared at the car. “Tonight, we’ll talk about this. Just…I’m not ashamed, okay?”

“Okay.” Cyprian crawled in the back of the car, taking a seat next to Archer. He stiffened when he saw the Imperial across from him. “Sir.”

“Cyprian.” Milanov smiled. “I heard you got into some trouble at the hospital.”

“Yeah, we—uhm, didn’t have an invitation.”

“And from now on, you won’t need one.” Milanov handed him an official paper. Cyprian saw that his name was written on it, and below that, the name of his mother.

Celia Fandi. She was here, in this hospital. And he’d been given a permanent invitation.

“I—” His eyes burned. “Thank you.”

Leaning in, Moargan placed his palm against Cyprian. His eyes sharpened. “Move aside,” he rumbled, and with a surprised yelp, Archer was maneuvered into Moargan’s seat as the Imperial Prince switched places. A large, warm arm curled around Cyprian’s shoulders and pulled him close. “That’s better.”

Cyprian sighed contentedly when his cheek fell flush againstMoargan’s chest, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of a panicked-looking Archer, who suddenly found himself sitting right next to the Imperial himself.

AsmirkingImperial.

27

Cyprian had been ashamed. And that realization slammed Moargan right in the face. Even after he had claimed the other man, Cyprian still needed confirmation that he was good enough. That Moargan wouldn’t throw him aside just like his family had done.

As they climbed out of the car, he made sure to keep hisaeonglued to his waist, an arm firmly slung around those slender shoulders. “You’re no longer a victim of your past,” he murmured. “And you’re no longer alone.”

“Thank you,” Cyprian breathed.

Did he really understand Moargan’s words? He didn’t think so. Not yet. They’d get there, eventually. He smirked when he saw the furious glare Cyprian threw at both guards. Yes, he understood a lot more than Cyprian could imagine.

Inside, the Helion University of the Living was entirely white. White floors, white walls, white beds with white straps around them.

A group of nurses swiftly flocked around the Imperial family, offering them refreshments and guidance as they made their way through the facility.

“How many patients do you have here?” Cyprian asked.

“About one hundred,” replied the doctor, whose name he couldn’t remember. The man, who’d been caught off guard after his father had ordered him to show Cyprian around, gestured toward the next corridor. “If you follow me.”

They barely set foot into the next ward when Cyprian stopped. “What’s that?” He pointed at a large, glass room that displayed a hospital room. Straps for restraints slung on all sides of the empty room and a table on wheels stood close. It consisted of suspicious equipment such as pliers and syringes of different sizes. Several instruments hung against the walls.

The doctor shrugged. “That’s where we perform research.”

“Research?” Cyprian lingered by the window, eyes glued to the window. “What sort of research?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, that depends. It can be mental research within the framework of physiological needs for support, or artificial research if physical adjustments need to be made.”

Morgan frowned. “Physical adjustments?”

“I’m afraid that information is confidential. We are a university after all.” The doctor’s eyes slid to Milanov, who nodded.

“Let’s keep on going,” The Imperial ordered.

“Certainly.” The doctor, visibly relieved, directed the group forward. “She has been having some rough days. If I had known you would come today, I would have decreased her dose. But in her current state, I’m afraid she’ll be sleeping for most of the day.”

“I will go to her now,” Milanov said. “Please bring my son and his Royal Consort to the patient they wish to see. Celia Fandi?”

“Celia Fandi.” The doctor seemed to think. “She—follow me please.”

Cyprian’s heartbeat picked up as the doctor took themdeeper inside the facility. When they reached the end of the corridor, the doctor opened the last door.

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