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What was I supposed to feel right now? Because everything inside me had gone totally and completely numb. The only sensation that registered at all was Jarrix’s steadfast warmth against my back.

“That’s all I need to say, then.” Leomer sank back into his chair, suddenly seeming even smaller and more frail than before. The cup nearly toppled off his thigh before he caught it with a hand that trembled so much that it was apparent even in the hologram. “It’s more than you wanted to hear, I’m sure. And I know an apology wouldn’t change anything or make you hate me less, but I am sorry. I’ve been sorry your entire life. I’ll die sorry.” He stared straight at the recording device, straight at me. “Thank you for listening, even if it wasn’t by choice. Sorry about that too.”

The hologram vanished.

For a long moment, the only noise in the chamber was the soft rush of flowing water. It was eerily similar to the hollow feeling in my chest and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

Orqiel gestured at the orb and the encased datachip on the floor between us. “Those belong to you.”

Since I could easily guess what was in the orb, I ignored it for now. “What’s on the chip?”

“I don’t know,” Orqiel said. At my narrowed gaze, he added, “He insisted it be untraceable and secure and only accessible by someone who shared his genetic signature. You can use the datacube to check it if you don’t want to risk accessing it on your ship.”

Part of me didn’t care what that datachip contained. I hadn’t wanted to hear the recording, and I hadn’t wanted to come to Saistea in the first place. But now that I was here and I’d heard and seen what Leomer Casso-Wren had to say for himself, kicking the thing into the pool or telling Orqiel to keep it seemed pointless.

The problem was, I didn’t want to access the chip aboard the Vespira or the Nivilus, and I didn’t trust that datacube either. But back on Trakhan, Byx was sure to have a secure way to see what was on it without endangering anyone. As long as my scans confirmed the chip was nothing more than what it appeared to be, I could take it back with me.

As for the orb…

Leomer was right: he had no right to ask anything of me, even—or perhaps most of all—to dispose of his remains. I’d never in my life cared about the fate of the man who’d sired Calla and me or where his corpse ended up. At most I might have assumed he would die or had died on Ganai and not given it another thought.

But now I’d seen the man and learned his name, knew what he looked like, what he’d sounded like, and what he’d done, and what should have been an easy decision somehow wasn’t.

Maybe because so many gladiators had died on the sand and been disposed of with little ceremony or notice in a communal grave, and before Leomer was anything else he’d been one of us. Maybe for a few minutes I’d thought Calla had ended up as atoms scattered in the void between stars, which wasn’t all that different. She didn’t even have a grave—just a final report and a commendation apparently filed by her commanding officer.

“Back up,” I said to Orqiel.

He retreated a dozen steps from the items on the floor. I let Jarrix keep an eye on him while I crouched and scanned the datachip and the orb with my wristcomm. There were no surprises. The orb contained organic matter genetically identifiable as “processed” human remains. I didn’t let myself think too much about that. The encased datachip was indeed just a datachip with a genetic lock. No explosives, no trackers.

I pocketed the chip, held my nivilus in my right hand, and picked up the orb with my left. It weighed about a kilo, maybe slightly more.

My gaze slid from the orb to Orqiel. He’d stayed right where he was after I’d told him to give me space, and as far I could tell he hadn’t moved a muscle. Jarrix was beside me again and a little behind, and probably looked like nothing more than a shadow to the Ganaian male, especially in the low light of the bathing chamber.

Orqiel cleared his throat and gestured at the orb. “What will you do?”

Whatever they’d been to each other—friends or colleagues or just two monsters thrown together by fate, who knew—he seemed to care what my answer was. Too bad I didn’t have one yet.

“I don’t know,” I said.

He didn’t react with anger or impatience, or bother making an argument about following Leomer’s final wishes. He had to know it wouldn’t do any good. He just gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement.

“All right.” His gaze dropped to the nivilus. “Do it, then, and let’s be done.”

CHAPTER 21

JARRIX

My mate was hurting, and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

Her horror and fury at being forced to listen to her sire attempt to excuse his vile behavior and abandonment seared me to the core. To feel my magnificent mate, who faced every enemy without faltering or fear, sagging in my arms ripped my hearts out of my chest—or would have if I’d been in physical form. It was all I could do to remain a shadow when every fiber of my being screamed at me to hold her and comfort her.

The news of her sister’s apparent death hadn’t surprised her, so she must have known, but the way she’d locked down her emotions told me there was far more to that part of the story and she didn’t want Orqiel to see any kind of reaction.

Keela’s pain had settled so deeply into my being that despite being only a shadow, I could have believed multiple blades had pierced my body—not unlike the one I’d envisioned skewering Orqiel’s neck or chest from the moment he’d confronted us at his bedroom door. No, before that. From the moment Keela had reacted to his image in Byx’s docking bay.

But when Orqiel invited her to kill him and “be done,” she didn’t rush him with the nivilus or pull a different weapon.

Instead, Keela tilted her head and studied him like he was a mystery she needed to unravel.