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The hotel impression didn’t diminish as we went inside. Narrow hallway entrance with a bathroom next to it, generic coloration, and décor. Again, nothing that could be easily thrown around other than a few chairs, which, on second glance, might have been bolted to the floor.
A darker-skinned man with short, very curly hair and a scruffy beard sat hunched in a comfortable-looking armchair and stared at the wall. He wore a blue polo shirt and faded blue jeans. He didn’t react to Samantha’s call, but when I came into the room, he tilted his head and his gaze fixed on me.
“Princess,” he said.
Samantha glanced at me, eyes widening slightly before she put a hand on Dio’s arm. “Dio, this is Ember. Princess is not an appropriate form of address.”
What little animation his eyes had held dulled, and he nodded. “Ember.” Even his voice sounded flatter.
What the fuck?
“And this is Nic, Robby, and Geraint. They’re old friends of yours here to visit. Isn’t that nice of them?”
“Very nice,” Dio agreed, with the mild Middle Eastern accent I remembered from our childhood.
Nic squeezed my hand before letting go. He walked to Dio’s side and went down on one knee, taking his brother’s hand.
“Dio, how are you feeling?”
The question seemed to confuse Dio for a moment, furrows creasing his brow. He looked at Samantha before looking back at his brother. “Fine.”
He spoke as if forcing the words out.
Geraint took Nic’s place next to me, holding me back when I tried to go to Dio.
“Just a minute, Spark,” Geraint said.
Robby went over to Samantha and put an arm over her shoulder. “We’re going to need some privacy,” he said.
She opened her mouth to object, but he placed his hand in front of her eyes. The woman froze. Like, I wasn’t even sure she was breathing.
I stared at the jester, mouth open in shock.
“Robby?” I finally squeaked out.
“What, princess?” he replied. “We need privacy, and something fishy is obviously going on here.”
“I just...” I shook my head. “How did you do that?”
He shrugged with a sly grin. “Trade secret.”
I glanced at Nic, but he stared at his brother, eyes narrowed.
“Diokophobia,” he said sharply.
Dio’s eyes sharpened briefly. “Nic, danger. Baz is not Baz, and our Princess must come home.” He leaned forward, grabbing Nic’s shoulder, his hand sinking in as Nic briefly faded to shadow.
“Our Princess is safe. We’re working on saving Baz. We need to get you out of here, Dio.”
Dio sank back into his armchair, eyes going glassy and vacant.
“Have they drugged him?” I asked. Geraint finally let go of my shoulder, and I went to Dio’s side.
Nic took my hand and placed it on Dio’s arm.
“He feels... empty.” Unable to help myself, I jerked my hand away from Dio’s cool arm.
“His essence is gone.”
