Another pained shout rips from my chest and I lunge forward with every ounce of strength I have, only to be held back by my own flanking guards.

  “Dom, you can’t,” Cato begs through clenched teeth. “Stop, man. Stop.”

  I fight against his and Jayce’s hold, thrashing in a frantic bid to break free. More heads turn to stare at the spectacle we’re becoming, but my eyes don’t stray from Xeni as he’s shoved toward the waiting vehicle.

  He finds me once more across the chaos, that single connection a lifeline in the storm.

  “I love you,” he mouths with a heartbreakingly tender smile, as if he’s trying to convince me that it’ll all be okay somehow.

  It won’t.

  It can’t possibly.

  I struggle again to wrench loose even as the vehicle pulls away, and Cato’s grip on my arm tightens like a vice. “Dom—”

  “Don’t call me that!” I shout, fury and grief cracking my voice.

  He yanks me around to face him, his honey-brown eyes filled with deep concern. They're pleading as they stare into mine, but there’s an urgency burning in them too.

  “Fine. Bash, we have to leave right now. Are you with me, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry your ass out of here?”

  “He’s gone.” The hollow words shatter as they leave me, and his eyes soften further while I grab fistfuls of his shirt. “He said… he said he wouldn’t go…”

  “Incoming!” Ego shouts from the alleyway.

  Cato and Jayce both grip me tighter, and they drag me between the buildings. My heart thuds in a violent rhythm, so loud I can barely hear anything past the roar in my ears, but eventually, my feet move on autopilot. The mad dash to the compound blurs into a frantic rush of shadowy alleys and blending into crowds until we’re on familiar streets again.

  Still, they hold on to me, as if they’re afraid I’ll bolt straight into the danger the moment they let go.

  We take the back way to the building, circling the block an extra time to guarantee no one trails us. Sakane opens the rear entrance to let us inside, surveying everyone with quick, assessing glances as they rush through. Surprise lines his face when Cato practically drags me in, and I’m numb as I’m led into the conference room and dropped into a chair.

  People fill the room, their hushed conversations growing louder and more concerned the longer I sit here. A deep baritone reaches my ears through the fog, and I turn to stare as Gideon talks to Cato.

  “You left him.”

  My voice is dangerously low, and the chatter lulls as Gideon meets my eyes.

  “Don’t fucking look at me like that. He risked everything to get you out of that place, and you left him!”

  “Dom—” Cato starts.

  I whirl on him in a blaze of rage.

  “I said don’t call me that!” I scream, the words exploding out as the room goes dead still.

  Cato lifts his hands in surrender as I turn my fury back to Gideon. “You couldn’t have waited ten fucking seconds to help him, and now—”

  “He told me to go,” Gideon interrupts, his voice steady despite the storm I’m unleashing, but another rush of adrenaline surges through me as I charge over.

  “You didn’t have to listen!” I shout, and he cringes but doesn’t pull back. “No one else was going to risk pulling you out of there, but he did. He did, and you fucking left him behind!”

  “Bash!” Cato grips my arm and tugs me away. What I intend as a shove to break free turns into a desperate hug as he wrestles me closer, and a gasping sob shudders out of me against his neck.

  Four years of iron composure crumble in an instant, and my perfect control shatters. I fist Cato’s shirt, convinced he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

  “It’s my fault,” I whisper as the guilt nearly doubles me over. “He only went because he had something to prove to me. Because I refused to believe him. Because I chose to think the worst of him, just like everyone else in his life. I was supposed to be his safe space, Cato!”

  Silence is suffocating as I try to compose myself, but those last moments replay in my mind on a reel.

  The streak of blood over his lips.

  The soft acceptance in his smile.

  The words he mouthed in what felt like goodbye.

  I never said I loved him.

  Never told him I’d never stopped.

  Cautious footsteps approach, and I glance over to find Gideon standing beside his brother. “Whatever I can do to help, I will,” he says, keeping his tone level. “Xeni and I weren’t what I’d call friends, but he kept his word. I owe him my freedom.”

  “I don’t even know where to start,” I mumble into Cato’s shirt.

  “Good thing I do,” Ego says. Her arms are crossed, a bright pink bubble on her lips that she pops with a determined scowl. “Let’s start with the tracker I dropped in his pocket this morning.”

  Xeni

  Thirty-four years ago

  Age Seven

  Father is angry again. He shouts, and his voice bounces off the shiny marble floors and tall ceilings of the grand hallway. Each word grows louder as it hits the hard walls and comes back bigger, like the house is screaming too.

  The noise wraps around me like a scratchy blanket. It’s rough, but I cling to it, because it’s proof that other people exist somewhere in all this space.

  The criss-cross lines on the tiles turn into my own little game. Hopscotch squares where I jump alone, or tic-tac-toe grids where I draw X and then O, always playing both sides because no one else ever joins.

  In these long, empty hallways that swallow every footstep, the games always end the same. Nobody wins, nobody cheers, and the quiet rushes back until the fighting starts again.

  “They will not listen!” Father’s voice crashes through the hall like thunder.

  The explosion of shattering glass that follows makes me gasp, and my hands fly up to cover my mouth and muffle the sound.

  “They think that because these animals have been tamed, they shouldn’t be put down,” he continues angrily. “The humans are no more than creatures in a zoo, locked inside the cities while we tend to them. They eat our food, consume our resources, and offer not the slightest hint of appreciation. Look at the wild ones living in their little camps! They are no better than vermin and should have been exterminated long ago.”

  I sneak closer to Father’s office, careful to keep my footsteps silent.

  He loves to yell about the humans. When the topic comes up, the servants flinch and scatter. They know better than to stick around, but my curiosity has always gotten me in trouble.

  I picture them now.

  Wild, dangerous things with schemes of revenge and plans to destroy this world. Eyes full of hatred, and hands ready to attack. Prowling in shadows like predators, and ungrateful enough to bite the hand that feeds them.

  Father says they would hunt me, hurt me, tear me apart just for what I am, and he believes they should all be killed.

  According to him, they are beasts, and nothing more. Feral creatures driven by instinct and rage, and unworthy of the mercy we’ve shown.

  But my nanny, Bheera, tells me different stories, whispered in the dark where he can’t hear. She shares tales of humans with kind eyes and gentle souls, hearts that long for freedom, and hands that build instead of destroy.

  Not vermin or animals.

  People.

  “You knew they were the fickle sort going into this, did you not?” Mother’s voice slurs in that familiar way, the words tumbling out thick and slow.

  I know what it means.

  I can picture her now, with wine staining her lips purple in dark spots that look like bruises, and breath that carries a sour tang that turns my stomach. The sun is just peeking through the curtains, and morning light makes it feel worse.

  “We saw their impulses, yes,” he admits with a haughty sniff that carries through the crack in the door. “Unpredictable and arrogant. They had been the apex predators of this land for so long they thought themselves invincible.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Mother mutters under her breath.

  His heavy footsteps thunder closer, and she gasps with a strangled choke that cuts off into silence. I can almost feel the heat of his hate burning from the room.

  “Watch yourself,” he says, his tone laced with lethal promise.

  The kind he always follows through on.

  Another few moments of muffled struggle pass before Mother draws in a ragged, heaving breath, and her voice is strained as she continues.

  “I meant only to imply the arrogance of the other High Commanders, my love. My faith lies in you alone. You have led them admirably with your studies and have gained their support for expanding Ljómur. A few of the others are like-minded, are they not?”

  “Not like-minded enough,” he mutters. “We do not have nearly the subjects we require to solve this puzzle with the prophecy, and the others insist the humans must be spared because of it. Some of them even suggest they should be treated as equals.”

  Mother hums thoughtfully, the sound muffled by her wine glass. “Perhaps you could get ahead of them. Search the cities.”

  Father’s pacing footsteps pause. “Continue.”

  There’s a rustle of fabric as I imagine Mother leaning forward in her chair, and I press my ear against the door to catch her words.

  “Put agents in the city that report to Ljómur. Have them scout for hidden mates and give them incentives to find them.” Another slurping sip precedes her hateful laugh. “Hells, you could even circulate a communication that says the mark is deadly. A virus of some sort.”

  He hums an approving sound. “Yes, a virus, indeed. That might get them through the doors so my research can continue.”

  “Do the others know?” Mother asks.

  Father falls silent for a stretch. “About?” he finally prompts.

  “Your plans. The reason you want to solve the prophecy.”

  Father is quiet again, the click of his shoes tapping across the matching marble inside the room. “If they do, they haven’t indicated as such.”

  “Do you think…” Mother begins but trails off, and the pacing stops once more.

  “We have had this discussion a thousand times, Olphina. Do not start a thought you aren’t willing to finish. It is beneath you to appear so mindless.”

  “Apologies, my love,” she says, and I can picture her practiced, placating smile. “It’s just… if—when,” she quickly corrects, “you solve the mystery of the mates and reopen the portals, would it really be so bad to keep them open?”

  Father snorts dismissively. “All these years that Ailynor had to build her army? I won’t give her the chance to cross to this side and take what I’ve built.”

  “Ailynor was just a rebel, Zadeus, not a leader like you. Not a king. Do you think she had the sort of power to conquer worlds?”

  “She had followers. Loyal ones, and in far greater numbers than a peasant deserter should’ve been able to accumulate. Do you so quickly forget that war was on the horizon? That it was about to march onto our own front lawn?”

  “Of course not,” she soothes. “I only meant to suggest that her power and influence would never reach that of yours. You were—you are—a king.”

  “Not anymore,” he snarls. “Now I am a mere High Commander, and what’s worse is I share that title with five others who view themselves just as important as me.”

  “One day, you will rule them all, my love. We only need to bide our—”

  The door creaks as I lean too hard against it, and there’s no time to scramble away before it’s yanked open. My knees slam into the marble, a sharp wail escaping me as pain shoots up my legs.

  Father grabs my arm in a bruising grip, fingers digging in like iron claws as he yanks me to my feet so hard my shoulder screams in protest.

  “What is the meaning of this, Xenesis?” he snarls, his face inches from mine. The leather of his uniform hits me and forms a ball in my stomach. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “No, sir,” I stammer, shaking my head frantically. “I was playing in the hallway, and—”

  “Your playing put your ear against my door?” he demands, cutting me off.

  I nod, desperate for him to believe the lie as fear coils in my gut.

  He sneers. “Lying on top of disobedience? You truly are a disappointment.”

  “I-I’m s-sorry,” I stutter, my vision blurring with tears that I will to stay inside my eyes. They’ll only make him angrier.

  “What is the rule about my office?” he presses, grip tightening until I whimper.

  “That… that it is a place for leaders. Important people,” I whisper, voice trembling.

  “And are you important?” His eyes bore into mine, cold and mocking.

  “N-not yet, sir.”

  “That’s right, son. Not yet.”

  He releases my arm with a shove that sends me stumbling. I bite my lip to stifle a cry, resisting the urge to rub the throbbing muscle even though it pulses with fire from his grasp.

  “I continue to give you rules, Xenesis. Simple rules that even a child should follow without question, yet you defy me at every turn. What am I going to do with such a useless, disobedient boy?”

  It isn’t a question that requires an answer—this much I know as fact. I stand in silence, small and shaking, while he taps his finger against his thigh in slow, deliberate beats.

  “Go to your room,” he finally says, voice dripping with false calm as a flicker of dark power reflects in his gaze. “Kneel in the corner and consider your behavior. You are not to move until I say otherwise. Not for food, not for water, not for anything. Perhaps a day on your knees will teach you the obedience you so clearly lack.”

  My feet move outside my control, carrying me toward my bedroom. I push through the ornate double doors and walk past the enormous four-poster bed. The few toys I own are neatly displayed on shelves, but I pass those too.

  I wedge myself into the corner until my nose almost touches the seam of the walls, and I sink to my knees.

  Hours go by in silence.

  The sun climbs high in the sky, and my stomach growls as it sets again.

  My body trembles as I fight its urges, but eventually, a warm stream of urine rolls down my thigh, soaking my trousers in humiliating defeat.

  That will come with a price, too.

  It’s nearly night when the doors creak open, and Bheera walks into the room, humming. “Xeni, my darling boy, are you hiding in here? My favorite assistant wasn’t there to help with dinner and I…”

  Bheera spots me and rushes over, taking in my condition with wide, horrified eyes. “Oh, heavens… gracious, Xeni! What is… what are you doing?”

  “Father commanded me to stay,” I whisper, shifting my hands to cover the now-cold wet patch on my pants as burning embarrassment floods my cheeks. As if on cue, my stomach growls again, and I let my eyes lift to meet hers.

  They’re soft and caring, loving in a way that feels like the only warmth in this frigid house. She crouches beside me and brushes my hair back with gentle fingers.

  “Darling boy, this isn’t your fault.”

  “Father said I don’t know how to listen,” I say, my embarrassment deepening as tears fill my eyes and my lip wobbles. “He says I have to learn.”

  Bheera wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly even as my knees remain locked in place under his command.

  “Let me talk to him,” she whispers.

  I pull back in horror, shaking my head. “No, he won’t listen. He won’t—”

  “You cannot kneel here any longer.”

  “I’m fine,” I argue weakly, but she stands and gives me another of those pitying smiles.

  “At least let me bring you some food, little prince.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say with a wet sniffle. “He isn’t a king—”

  “Xeni!” she hisses in warning, glancing over her shoulder towards the door.

  “He isn’t!” I cry. “Not anymore! And I don’t want to be a prince. I just want to be normal. I want friends.” My face falls into my hands as the tears spill over and dampen my cheeks. “I want someone to love me. Do you think the Fates will allow it?”

  “Oh, Xeni, I love you,” she breathes, voice thick as she hugs me again. “Darling boy, I love you so much, but yes… I think the Fates will allow you to be happy one day.”

  The door swings open and slams against the wall as familiar, angry steps charge toward us.

  “We do not speak of the Fates in this house!” Father bellows.

  Bheera wraps me tighter in her arms as I cower, trying to shrink away from his wrath.

  “I should’ve known you would be feeding him this nonsense,” he snarls.

  I scramble out of her hold, shaking my head as I try to stand, to protect her like she protected me, but my knees are glued to the floor.

  “No, Father! It wasn’t her! I was asking questions, and s-she told me to stop because you didn’t approve, and—”

  “Don’t lie for me, Xeni,” Bheera says, still wearing that patient smile even as fear flickers in her eyes. “You’ve been punished enough.”

  Father rises to his full height with deadly calm. “Remember your station. I will not stand for your judgment in my house, and I do not need advice on how to raise my son. Go to the parlor and wait for me there.”

  It’s a command she’s powerless to refuse.

  Bheera turns and walks away with those same controlled steps that carried me to kneel in this spot.

  I cry harder, clutching at his pants as I try to go after her.

  “Father, don’t—”

  He shoves me away, lip lifting in disgust. “Get up. Clean yourself and go to bed.”

  “Don’t hurt Bheera.” My eyes are pleading as they land on his. “I love her.”

  “Love,” he snarls. “She really has been feeding you full of nonsense, hasn’t she? Love and the Fates.”

  He zeroes in on me with chilling intensity. “Did she tell you about the prophecy?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, the word dragged from my mouth against my will.