Page 92 of Shielded Heart

All because of Arcanthus.

Vaund had left Caldorius years ago, had advanced his position in the Syndicate, and now stood to gain only more thanks to the current demand for terrans—and the particular talents of his retrieval crew in obtaining them. Why had a ghost from his past appeared now? Wasn’t his own reflection reminder enough of his failures?

He dragged his hands along the tops of the armrests, shredding more of the material, and shoved himself out of the chair. He paced toward the holo screen at his desk console, where he stopped and stared. One message to his superiors would bring the wrath of the entire Syndicate down on Arcanthus—and upon Vaund himself.

It wasn’t the threat to his life—or the pile of dead street soldiers he’d soon have to explain—that kept Vaund from sending the message. No, it was something much deeper, something contrary to the cold, calculating demeanor that had earned him his reputation in the organization.

He’d lost to Arcanthus, and Arcanthus had pieced Vaund back together and acted like everything between them was suddenly settled. Like Vaund should’ve taken his disfigurement and near-death in stride, like he should have been grateful to the sedhi, like what Arcanthus had done in saving Vaund’s life made up for being the one who almost took it to begin with.

Like becoming part of Arcanthus’s ragtag gladiators’ union was some immense privilege for which Vaund should’ve been honored, and losing his fucking face was an insignificant entry price.

He squeezed his fists so tightly that the heat vents on his cybernetic forearm implants opened, bathing the surrounding area in a hellish orange glow.

Things have changed since those days, sedhi.Ihave changed.

Vaund brought up the console’s controls and sent a message to his remaining lieutenants with a single image attached.

FIND THIS SEDHI. SCOUR EVERY DAMNED SURVEILLANCE FEED IN THE CITY, QUESTION EVERY INFORMANT, DO WHATEVER IS NECESSARY. I WANT HIS LOCATION.

He flexed his fingers and drew in another ragged breath; had he a jaw, he would’ve clenched it. He’d deal with the Syndicate leadership later. For now, all that mattered was finding Arcanthus and tearing him apart until even the molecules that comprised his body were in tatters.

“You don’t get to fucking hide anymore, Arcanthus,” he said. “The minutes are ticking away.”

Eighteen

Samantha had spent much of her day exploring Arcanthus’s compound, growing increasingly familiar with the labyrinthine corridors. There were several doors that would not open to her; despite her curiosity, she never tried any of them more than once. When she felt like she’d seen enough, she headed for the lounge, where she played a few matches of Conquerors with Koroq and Kiloq.

When the cren’s shift changed, the brothers left, and the two vorgals—Urgand and Thargen—entered the room soon after. An exchange of introductions found her sitting on one of the couches, watching a bloody action movie with the pair. Sam found herself cringing and looking away more often than not, but Thargen whooped and laughed at much of the violence on screen; she couldn’t deny that he frightened her a little.

She took her leave before the movie had finished and decided to follow a circuitous route to return to the bedroom. Her path took her past the training room; she poked her head inside to see Sekk’thi in the middle of intense exercise. She watched the ilthurii for a few seconds before turning to continue her journey.

“Samantha!” Sekk’thi called.

Sam looked back to see the ilthurii jogging toward her. Before Samantha knew what was happening, Sekk’thi was leading her into the training room. Sam couldn’t help her nervousness—she’d never been in a gym even once, and even if she was getting over her self-consciousness with Arc,thiswas a totally different setting. Sam was out of her element and had no idea what to expect.

They stopped in the middle of a large, square floor mat—at least ten meters by ten—and Samantha was surprised when Sekk’thi began instructing her on self-defense techniques.

Samantha’s initial uncertainty and trepidation vanished as time wore on; she dedicated herself to learning, going toe-to-toe with Sekk’thi even though she had no hope of winning. The ilthurii was stronger, faster, and infinitely more skilled, but Sam felt empowered for even trying.

If only she’d had a friend on Earth to teach her such things, if only she’d had the confidence and strength to stand up to James and sayenough. She focused that deep-seated frustration into every punch, kick, and hold as she sparred with Sekk’thi.

When Sam’s back hit the mat for what might’ve been the hundredth time—she’d lost count long before—she finally gave up.

“Uncle!”

“Uncle?” Sekk’thi stood over Samantha with her head cocked to the side and her scaled brow low. “What does an uncle have to do with this?”

Samantha chuckled breathlessly. Sweat trickled down her temples and into her already damp hair. “It’s an expression from Earth. It means I surrender.”

“Humph. Why not sayI surrender?”

“Fewer syllables?”

Sekk’thi’s lips drew back to reveal her sharp teeth as she laughed. “You terrans are strange.Uncle.” She shook her head and held her hand out to Samantha, helping her to her feet. “You did well. Tomorrow?”

“You want me to come back to do this again tomorrow?”

“I asked, did I not?”

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