Page 63 of Silent Lucidity

The interest and intensity in the sedhi’s gaze unsettled Tenthil; his chest tightened, and a burst of heat flowed into his muscles, threatening to thrust him into a battle state.

Tenthil extended his arm and swept Abella behind him. “A client. We need clean chips.”

“And so you came looking for Alkorin the Forger,” the sedhi said.

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

The sedhi shifted his arms behind his back and circled Tenthil slowly, likely seeking a better angle from which to see Abella, but Tenthil moved along with him to block her from the forger’s view as much as possible.

“It is one of several aliases I’ve used. As good as any, I suppose.” The sedhi’s eyes were fixated on Abella as he casually continued circling. “Alkis close enough to the truth, if you wish. Far more interesting than all that, however, is this female.”

Taking in a deep breath, Tenthil curled his hands into fists—it was the only way to keep himself from drawing a weapon.

“I’m his,” Abella said. “And there really isn’t anything interesting about me.”

Alk raised a hand—from this close proximity, Tenthil realized that both the sedhi’s hands were cybernetic, cased in a dark metal run through with glowing yellow lines that matched his eyes—and pointed toward Abella’s head. “Lower your hood for me, would you?”

Tenthil growled, bared his teeth, and took a step forward. The sedhi shifted his hand to direct all his fingers at Tenthil, who barely registered the sound of machines moving in his fury. The autocannons at each of the room’s four corners dropped into attack position.

“Tenthil, no!” She wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning her face close to his ear. “It’s okay. I’m yours, remember?”

Her touch, her voice, broke through the enraged haze in Tenthil’s mind.

We need this forger if we want a chance to live, he reminded himself.

The sedhi hadn’t moved; he stared at Tenthil and Abella with a strange mixture of fascination and amusement in his expression. He flicked the fingers of his raised hand aside nonchalantly. The autocannons reverted to neutral positions, their barrels angling slightly upward.

“The security system is a bit…sensitiveto my prompts,” Alk said, holding Tenthil’s gaze. “Of course, should we come to an arrangement, Iwillneed to know what she is—and run a full-body scan to complete the chip. The operation, of course, would bepurelyprofessional.”

Alk’s smile was anything but reassuring—it was a challenge, a subtle shove, a bit of posturing.

This is his home. His sanctuary. His fortress. He thinks he’s safe here, thinks he’s untouchable.

Keeping one arm around Tenthil, Abella tugged her hood down. “I’m human. Err, a terran.”

Tenthil clenched his jaw, but he made no move to stop her; he had to acknowledge that, despite his own greater experience with the Infinite City and its diverse species, Abella was better at talking to most of the people they encountered. Situations like this—and with the azhera outside—were some of the few in which Tenthil’s instincts were not necessarily of benefit.

He’d never experienced this before; his common sense had been overridden by anger or bitterness from time to time, but his instincts had always been reliable in every situation.

“Human,” Alk repeated, almost purring the word. “I was curious when terrans first came to Arthos a couple cycles ago, but you are the first I’ve met.” The pupil of his third eye expanded and shrank again.

Abella chuckled. “Yeah, well, like I said, nothing interesting. I mean, when you’re around all these other people with fur, fangs, claws, horns, tails, and,” she swept an arm toward Alk, “threeeyes, a plain old human is nothing to get excited about.”

Tenthil turned his head toward her, brows falling low. Was that truly what she thought, or was she simply playing a part? He couldn’t tell, but the idea that she saw herself as plain, uninteresting, or boring upset him in a subtle yet deep fashion. It could be perceived as unhappiness, and he could not allow his mate to be unhappy.

“It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” Alk asked. He blinked, his central eye lagging the other two by half a second. “Perhaps where you come from, I am exotic. But here, it is you—”

Abella held her hand up, palm out. “Let me stop you right there. I had a…let’s just say, areallybad experience recently, and I would rather not talk about howexoticI am. Okay? I just want some normalcy. Some freedom. That’s the only reason we’re here.”

Alk’s smile softened slightly, and he gestured toward the nearby couches. “Then please, let us discuss business.”

Abella returned his smile. “Thank you.”

A firestorm raged within Tenthil, and the only logical thought process he could manage for several moments was a calculation of whether he’d be able to close the distance between himself and the sedhi before Alk manually aimed and fired the autocannons. He was relatively certain he could. It wouldn’t have been easy or safe, but he’d dealt with similar automated weaponry before, and he’d never encountered one with a targeting system that could overcome his bioelectric disruption field. He could engage his field in a millisecond.

It might have been worth it just for the look on Alk’s face before Tenthil killed him.

Abella looked up at Tenthil, and her smile wavered slightly. She slipped her hand into his and wove their fingers together.

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