Page 78 of Blinding Light

He was humming to a beat, his voice a mere rasp. Trying to reach for the light, he nearly crashed to the floor, cackling as he did so, hands feeling around the wall for leverage.

So he was a drunk as well as a drug addict.

Yure switched on the light, bathing the room in light. Ludo yelped in surprise. Eyes glassy, mouth slack, movements jerky.

“Well, hello again, Mister Fandi.” Moargan curled his lips into a sinister smile.

Ludo’s intoxicated glare became larger, and the man was trying to focus. Finally, things seemed to click in his foggy brain. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” He snarled,reaching backward for the door knob. He yelped when Vandor hit his knuckles with the flat of his knife.

“Greet your Imperial.”

Ludo yanked his hand back, pressing his lips against the battered knuckles. “Good evening, Imperial Moargan,” he finally grumbled. His eyes lit up with new defiance. “Is this still about that yellow-eyed monster?”

Yure whistled lowly. “Seems the man has a death wish.”

“And I shall gladly oblige. With time.” Moargan strolled forward. “But first things first. As a matter of fact, Mister Fandi, this is about the prize money you were given all those years ago for the newborns you sold us.” He took a contract from his inner pocket and unfolded the papers slowly, inwardly grinning when the other man scrambled forward. Even intoxicated, the man was curious. “You see, I’m afraid you didn’t read the many fine lines of the agreement back then.” Moargan pointed to one of the articles as stated. “One child per family. You, Ludo Fandi, provided us with four babies. That means you committed illegal acts against the Imperials of Helion. The punishment for that is theAureate.”

Ludo froze. “You’re lying,” he whispered, eyes searching Moargan’s violet gaze.

“Are you accusing me of not telling the truth?”

Ludo clearly couldn’t find what he was looking for, his shoulders slumped. “No, I—I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now that things are cleared up, here’s the formal part of your punishment. You will shortly receive an invitation with a date on which the event will take place. Do you have any questions?”

Ludo was still glued to his spot, his intoxicated mind scrambling to catch up with the news. “Will I die?” He finally rasped.

Moargan smirked. “That is only for us to decide. But consider this—your behavior towards my Royal Consort displeases me very,verymuch.” He clapped the old man on hisshoulder. “Oh, and if Celia comes home, tell her to report herself to the closest Luminary office. There’s one just across the road.”

Vandor opened the front door. Leaving the room, Moargan turned over his shoulder and gave the defeated Ludo an amethyst grin. “Don’t bother. We’ll let ourselves out.”

The door fell shut with a soft click.

As they made their way downstairs, Yure chuckled. “On the life of my dead mother, how the hell did you get him to believe that fake contract?”

Moargan laughed. “Impressed, are you? I’d figure he’d be illiterate. Turns out I was right.”

“Poor bastard. Even if he would have caught you or your lie, he’d be as good as dead.”

“True.” They left the stench of the building behind and got into the hover car. Claiming that an Imperial didn’t tell the truth was like hanging yourself voluntarily.

“So, how’s things going taming the lost wolf?” Yure asked from behind the wheel as they made their way home. “Today must have been a bitter pill to swallow for him?”

Moargan leaned back on his seat, stretching out his legs. “Curious much? As for the first one, the taming is going well, though we are taking our time. And yes, today was hard on him. He had hoped for his family to at least acknowledge having given him up in the first place.”

“Man, I can’t imagine what that must be like. Mine might be dead now, but at least they loved me.” He fell quiet after that.

A little while later, they passed the gates and drove their way up to the house. Yure parked the car and looked at the dim lights. “There’s still life in the kitchen.”

“Probably Aviel. Cooking whatever new dish he found.”

Yure chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a good housemate. Guy’s a genius with pots and pans.”

They made their way inside, and the lights in the corridorautomatically lit up. When they got closer to the kitchen, Moargen halted and listened to the sound of voices. There was the unmistakable, playful timbre from Aviel. But, as he entered the room, he found Cyprian, still in the blue bathrobe in which Moargan had left him in earlier. He sat at the bar, a drink in his hand, his chin propped up in the other.

He looked fierce, with his black hair mussed and his yellow eyes bright and happy, and so handsome, so different from the way he’d left him earlier, and Moargan’s entire being was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Cyprian was perfect.

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