Page 58 of Her Lawless Prince

Nothing answered. He wasn’t surprised. The room didn’t appear to be fitted with interactive technology.

It felt futile, but he started looking for an escape. His wristband was missing, and he couldn’t cut his way out. He ran his hand over the walls and lifted the sculptures to see if they’d trigger some hidden passage. He wasn’t sure where he’d go if he escaped, but he wanted to find Payton.

He lifted one of the banners and found a button. He pressed and held it. “Hello?”

The wall began to move. A food simulator appeared in a hidden alcove. The button wasn’t for communication.

“I am Prince Falke, Var Commander, and Princess Payton’s father.”

Nyle spun around in surprise at the booming voice coming from the doorway. He hadn’t heard anyone enter.

The man’s wide stance and narrowed, glowing gaze made the commander’s imposing figure even more fearsome. His eyes were the only thing that shifted, but it was enough to pose a threat. Two guards stood behind him, partially shifted into their human cat forms. They wore matching clothes, black uniforms with cross lacing up the sides of the legs and from armpit to waist. The commander wore an emblem on his chest that set him apart from the others.

Falke gestured a finger without fully lifting his hand, and the guards instantly pulled the doors closed.

“Is Payton well?” Nyle asked, eager for word of her.

Falke nodded. The man continued to stare for a long moment.

“I am called Nyle,” Nyle finally said, wondering if the man was waiting for him to speak.

Falke continued to watch him.

Nyle tried to look away but couldn’t. Fear crept in. He’d seen Payton shift. If that was any indication of what this man might become, he could be in trouble. He straightened his shoulders and said, “I’m Cysgodian Nyle.”

Falke tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Cysgodian Nyle, bastard son of an unknown off-worlder and Diana.” Nyle hated his full name. He had gotten past not knowing who his father was long ago, but it didn’t mean he liked announcing it. “But I prefer Nyle.”

“My daughter said you assisted in bringing her home.” The man didn’t move, and still it felt as if he loomed forward.

Nyle gave a small nod. “I did what I could. Payton is resourceful. She didn’t need saving.”

“Yes. Payton is that.” Falke dropped his arms and stepped closer. The movement relaxed his stance some as he came toward the couch. His gaze moved to the food simulator and then back to Nyle. “You’re a scientist.”

Nyle nodded. “I was in another life.”

“There is only one life,” Falke answered, “with all its honors and all its failures. There is no separating the beginning from the end as time cannot be severed.”

Nyle tried to give a small nod of agreement. What in the universes was he supposed to say to that? The man was the highest-ranking Var military royal. It’s not like he was going to argue philosophy with the man. One slap and Nyle wouldn’t be waking up. Plus, he was Payton’s father. One word and he could keep Nyle from ever seeing the princess.

Maybe it would be best if he didn’t speak. Commanders were used to being heard.

“You don’t agree?” Falke inquired when Nyle remained silent.

“Uh, yes. I know of no scientific way of severing time,” Nyle answered. He didn’t add that in a way there were methods of stopping time, at least for an individual—stasis pods, and an old freezing technique that turned prisoners into stone. Though, that last one came with some nasty side effects.

Falke let loose a loud breath and appeared disappointed. A claw extended from his fingertip, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I was speaking of honor.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Nyle focused on keeping his breathing even.

Falke dropped his arm to his side and tapped the tip of the claw against his thigh.

Of course, they had Yevgen. The cyborg had probably told them everything.

“You want to know if I think I should be forgiven for my past failures or if I have forgiven myself and believe my honor restored.” Nyle considered lying. He thought about twisting his words, so they softened reality. He thought about defending himself, saying he’d watched the survivors from space and sent Yevgen to protect them. Instead, he answered, “No. Someone needs to take responsibility for what happened, and I am the only one left.”

The faint impression of the dreams he’d had while drugged faded into the harsh reality of his memories. All those bodies haunted him. Those cries followed him, brought forth with every high-pitched whistle of wind or audible breath. Slamming doors triggered the memory of the locked Central Hospital ward where people went to die. Smoke drew forth images of mass funeral pyres.

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