Page 117 of Shielded Heart

“This was a bucketload of skrudge piss,” Thargen grumbled. “Why’d you make me wait in a damned tunnel when I could’ve been out there fighting?”

“If you want a fight, I will gladly beat you into unconsciousness,” Arcanthus replied, “afterwe get out of this place. I thought I was keeping the best of the best on my security team. What the hell am I paying you for if you can’t follow a simple order? Go!”

The group moved forward, with Thargen muttering curses to himself as he turned to follow.

Samantha lagged to step closer to Arcanthus. “Where are we going to go?”

He brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I have a safehouse on standby. It might be a bit dusty, as I’ve never used it, but it’ssomething. From there”—his mouth tilted up at one corner into a roguish grin—“we’ll have to find a new home together.”

She leaned her face into his touch and smiled.

Together.

Epilogue

“Close your eyes,” Samantha said.

“I’ve been wagging around a stump for two months,” Drakkal replied, raising his left arm, which had been cut off four or five centimeters above his elbow. The lower half of his bicep was covered in a sleek, surgically implanted metal sleeve. “I shouldn’t have to wait any longer.”

“It’s only another minute or two. Now close your eyes, Drak. It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

Drakkal growled, took a moment to glare at her, and squeezed his eyes shut. His long tail flicked in annoyance, but Samantha knew he was excited.

“No peeking.” She took a step away from the table Drakkal was sitting beside and turned toward the open doorway. “He’s ready now.”

Arcanthus walked into the room with a long, cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. “Wouldn’t it be more fun if we told him they botched the order and he had to wait a few more weeks?”

“I’m sitting right here, sedhi,” Drakkal grumbled. “My eyes are closed, not my ears.”

“He’s agitated today, isn’t he?” Arc asked with a smirk.

Samantha poked Arc in his chest. “You’d think as someone who lost a few limbs of his own, you’d be a little more sympathetic.”

Arcanthus snickered. “You should’ve heard him calling me a whiner while I was in recovery. This is payback on the smallest possible scale—far less than he deserves.”

He knelt in front of the azhera and peeled back one end of the cloth, revealing the cybernetic prosthesis’s connector. He inserted it into the slot on Drakkal’s metal sleeve; it locked into place with a heavy click.

“You can open your eyes now,” Arcanthus said.

Drakkal opened his eyes and glanced down, scowling. “Why did you make me close my eyes if you had it covered up all along?”

“It’s not too late for me to return this, azhera. You’re lucky Samantha worked so hard on the design, or I’d have given you the ugliest, most generic prosthesis I could find.”

“You realize I have plenty of credits to my own name, don’t you?”

“Don’t you dare take away what little satisfaction I can find in this,” Arcanthus snapped. “Besides, I paid for it from your account.” Before Drakkal could reply, Arc loosened the cloth wrapping and tugged it off with a flourish.

Drakkal’s eyes flared, transfixed on the prosthesis.

Samantha clasped her hands together and raised them to her chest, wringing her fingers. Despite Arcanthus’s encouragement, she’d doubted herself ever since she had the idea to design the aesthetics of Drakkal’s cybernetic arm. It seemed like such a big thing, such animportantthing, and she wasn’t sure of Drakkal’s tastes. Would he appreciate the stylized limb she’d designed, or would he have preferred the sort of prosthetic that looked like a living body part down to the finest detail?

She’d gone for a look meant to emphasize Drak’s prowess. Gladiatorial armor from ancient Earth had served as a core inspiration—she thought it was fitting, given his history—but she’d added a few special touches to make it unique. It sported some of the sleeker design evident in many of Arcanthus’s prostheses, but had a traditional flare in the subtle patterns she’d had etched into the dark metal, all of which were based on Azheran art.

Drakkal raised his new hand and turned it, examining it front and back. It was larger than his other hand, clad in segmented, gauntlet-like armor. His brow furrowed as though in concentration. Hardlight claws formed at the tips of his fingers, long and hooked like his natural claws.

“With a little practice, you’ll learn to alter them,” Arcanthus said.

Flexing his fingers, Drakkal dismissed the hardlight claws and turned his gaze to Samantha. “You designed this?”

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