Page 26

“How are the others doing?” Daven asked.

Milanov’s gaze sharpened slightly at the question. “Still recovering. The sedatives were aggressive. They suppressed motor function and disrupted neural response. Some of them are only just waking.”

“So they’re not talking.”

“No.”

Daven rolled the cigarette between his fingers. “So they’re useless to us for now.”

Milanov’s gaze cooled. “They’re patients, not assets.”

Daven didn’t look at him. “You know what I mean.”

“They were taken on Helion soil. That makes them ours to recover, not yours to rush.”

“So, Düren, huh?”

Milanov flicked ash into the tray. “Yes. A dirt planet on the northern edge of the Reach.”

Daven went still. Come to think of it, he’d heard of the place. Was that where Ryneth was from?

“Horrible place. Lots of corruption, lots of poverty. People mostly live behind the Ward.”

“Ward?”

“A planetary wall.” Milanov took another drag from his cigarette. “Most of Düren’s people live behind it. One side is guarded and overcrowded. The other side is empty land, bad weather, the kind of places no one wants to police. The watch rotates through armed civilians because planetary enforcement rarely bothers.”

That sounded ominous. Daven didn’t like the idea of Ryneth having lived behind the Ward. “Protect them from what?”

Milanov exhaled smoke. “From the kind of men who know poor planets don’t get answers when people vanish.”

A chill moved through Daven. “So Concordant hunts on Düren?”

Milanov’s expression gave nothing away. “Maybe. Maybe not. Kylix and Helianth are working on it now.” He tapped ash into the tray. “I’ll tell you when I know more.”

Daven watched his uncle reach for the bottle again. That was the second time since he’d walked in. Milanov didn’t drink much. Not unless something had rattled him. It was probably the result of raising two young sons alone after his wife, Norma—Helion’s royal consort—had been taken to the Hospital of the Living Dead. She’d never left.

That had been back before Daven was born.

“How was the hospital?” It was a touchy subject, but asking was the only way to stay inside the room when the real family matters came up. Daven’s chest tightened. “If you don’t⁠—”

“She’s restless again,” Milanov said, looking back at the fire. His mouth curved, but there was nothing warm in it. “The doctors can’t settle her vitals. The monitors spike, then level out again. It’s like her body knows something before the rest of us do.”

Daven held his uncle’s gaze. “And this started… when?”

“When the boy arrived.” Milanov’s voice dropped. “It happens when someone made like us returns to Helion. It happened before, when the others awakened. And now it’s happening again.”

He fell quiet, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire.

“The first time, I thought that was it. That my love was finally coming back to me.” His thumb dragged once over the side of his glass. “But it passed. She went still again, for years.”

Daven watched the reflection of the flames in the glass at his uncle’s lips. Milanov never allowed himself to look weak, which meant this wasn’t grief.

It was fear.

Daven didn’t know what to think of that.

“But this time, she opened her eyes.” His uncle drained his glass and shook his head, as if pained. “She opened her eyes, and I wasn’t there.”