Page 18 of Shattered Silence

Gathering his focus, Enki opened his eyes and slowly spun his dagger around, pointing it at the noble. Relahek didn’t move a muscle.

“You are a son of House Alerak,” he said softly, rising to his feet. The mere act of speaking was an effort; he was so used to dwelling deep within his thoughts that he sounded like a stranger to his own ears.

Relahek let out an aggravated sigh. “I was a son of House Alerak, until my father was killed, our assets were seized, and my idiot brother disappeared somewhere in the outer sectors with that moronic Daegan and his deluded followers.”

Enki noted the cynical roll of Relahek’s eyes, observed the slight curl of his lip. Typical noble. The bastard had no love or respect for anyone, not even his own blood.

Balancing the dagger lightly in one hand, Enki moved, slipping through the darkness like a wraith, calling on his gifts of stealth and speed. In a flash, he was right up in Enki’s face, threateningly close. He didn’t give Relahek time to blink as his blade came to rest against the noble’s throat. “You know where your brother is, don’t you?” His hoarse voice melded with Relahek’s soft snort of derision.

“My brother?” Relahek’s breathing quickened slightly as Enki lifted his blade, allowing a tendril of black blood to trickle down the Noble’s neck. “What could you possibly want with that pompous asshole?” Despite his obvious discomfort, Relahek’s expression was unreadable.

“Tch.” Enki spun the blade and rested the flat of it against Relahek’s silver cheek. “Are we really going to play this game now? You do not get to ask questions. I ask, you answer. That is all.”

Relahek hissed, but didn’t dare move. He obviously wasn’t brave—or stupid—enough to tempt the edge of Enki’s blade any further, especially when its ultraforged Callidum edge was resting against the smooth silver skin of his face.

Nobles were notorious for their vanity. It was a weakness of theirs, one Enki intended to fully exploit.

“Tell me how I can find him, or I will physically remind you how superior Callidum is to any other metal in the known Universe.”

Relahek exhaled slowly, and some of his defiance escaped with that breath. Evidently, he valued his intact face over any loyalty to his brother. “I’m going to take a wild stab and guess that if I tell you where he is… you’ll probably kill him.” The prospect didn’t really appear to bother him.

“There is a good chance that might happen, yes.”

“Hmm, give you my brother’s location, or get my face cut off? I think I might go with the former. I never liked the little shit, anyway.”

“Tell me how I can find him.” Enki gently slid the flat of his blade up and down against Relahek’s cheek, reminding the noble exactly how close he was to losing part of his face. “If you cross me, mislead me, or leave me with even the slightest echo of doubt as to the accuracy of your information, I will do much more than just disfigure you.” The fact that Relahek had caved so quickly made Enki suspicious. What was he scheming now?

“Oh, believe me, I know that, and I’m going to tell you how to find him, but first I need a guarantee.”

“The only guarantee is your death or the absence of it.”

“I had a feeling you might say something like that. Don’t worry, I’ll co-operate.” A bitter laugh escaped Relahek’s lips. “I’m not one of those idiots who insists on holding out until the end just because of some misplaced sense of duty. I’m not a fucking masochist… quite the contrary. I’ll tell you everything you need to know, right down to the very last piece of Callidum I sold, but only if you agree to my terms.”

Irritation coursed through Enki. Arrogant noble. He thought he had some sort of leverage here? Yes, it was important to retrieve the Callidum weapons Relahek had foolishly sold into alien hands, but that would have to wait. Did Relahek not understand that once they were on Silence, Zharek al Sirian could pump him full of truth drugs and scrape the information from right inside the walls of his thick skull anyway—if Enki didn’t torture it out of him first?

“Luron Alerak,” he said softly, a sense of terrible urgency thrumming through his veins. “How do you communicate with him?”

“It’s actually easier than you might think. Just promise me one thing, soori.” Relahek actually had the nerve to call him soori—the derogatory term for a commoner. It was, and always had been, a word used exclusively by nobles. But then he shook his head, offering a half-shrug. “Tch. No, I shouldn’t be calling you that. Which cursed bloodline did they pluck you from? You have the look of our people.”

He was referring to the nobility, of course, and he was right. The slight tilt to the eyes, the stark white hair, the sharp facial features, the skin tone—a deeper, darker shade of silver. The differences were subtle, but all noble-born males had a certain look about them that only other Kordolians could identify.

Enki knew he had the look, but he couldn’t give a shit about bloodlines or inheritances or obsolete social hierarchies.

The Empire was dead, and he knew exactly what he was. Right now, he didn’t have time for this shit.

He had to find the human.

He had given her his word. Even if everything else in the Universe went to shit, his promises had to count for something, otherwise what was the point of it all?

My name is Layla.

The sound of her soft, desperate voice echoed in his memory, and once again, the Tharian stirred.

Upon seeing his hesitation, Relahek laughed. That low, smug chuckle did something to Enki. It infuriated him.

Enough.

How dare this lordling laugh when the female who was supposed to be under Enki’s protection was probably detained onboard the Ristval V, suffering at the mercy of Daegan’s depraved research unit?

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