Chapter 24
ANNANI
The Monday morning traffic was heavy as usual, and as Annani watched the city pass by through the SUV's windows, her thoughts about the upcoming confrontation were churning.
Because it was going to be a confrontation, and it might turn uncivilized. Navuh despised her, and the feeling was mutual. He might blame her for the demise of the gods, but she blamed him for all the dark ages humanity had gone through since then.
He had been the architect of many of the worst moments in human history, but not all of them. Humans were capable of no less cruelty than this immortal who thought of them as little more than livestock.
Beside her, Kian sat with his phone in hand, scrolling through emails, reports, and the summaries Shai prepared for him to save him time.
Anandur was behind the wheel with Brundar beside him, one chattering about this and that and the other silent as a statue.
"Areana was wound tight as a spring when I drove her to the keep last night," Anandur said.
Annani had noticed. Her sister had seemed anxious throughout the celebration.
Anandur glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "I don't know if she was eager to return to him because she was worried about him or because she was afraid he would throw a tantrum on account of her being gone for so long."
"What did she do?" Annani asked.
"It was more what she didn't do. She barely said two words to me the whole trip, and she just sat there wringing her hands and staring out the window. When we got to the keep, she practically ran to the clinic."
Annani sighed, experiencing the usual heaviness in her chest when thinking about Areana and Navuh.
"I do not understand my sister. Fated mates are supposed to bring each other joy.
They are supposed to be happy together, to find comfort and peace in each other's presence.
But Areana has no joy with Navuh. She has only anxiety and fear and this constant, exhausting vigilance. "
"Some relationships are complicated," Kian said without looking up from his phone.
"All relationships are complicated. But if they are a constant source of distress, the correct term is dysfunctional."
He let out a breath. "Each couple is different, Mother. What is right for you might not be right for your sister. You have very different temperaments."
Annani turned to look at him. "Some things are universal. When you are with Syssi, do you feel anxious? Do you worry about saying the wrong thing or upsetting her?"
Kian returned his phone to his pocket. "I'm probably not the best example," he murmured. "I'm not a joyful guy."
Annani reached over and patted his arm. "You may not be the most cheerful person, but Syssi is never stressed because of you.
She is never afraid to speak her mind or tell you when she disagrees with you.
She does not walk on eggshells around you, worried that a wrong word might trigger you, and you do not have to tiptoe around her moods.
You are comfortable with each other. You trust each other. "
Kian's jaw tightened. "That's true. But does comfort equal bliss?"
"Everyone's definition of bliss is different," Anandur said. "I love that Wonder still laughs at my jokes, no matter how many times she has heard them or how lame they are."
Brundar uttered a sound that could have been an agreement, but Annani was not sure which part.
"Areana loves Navuh," she said. "But love should not come with such a heavy price. Love should lift you up, not weigh you down. I worry about her. Perhaps her love is a kind of Stockholm syndrome."
"The same thought occurred to me," Kian said. "I'm curious to see them together. You can tell a lot by observing how a couple interacts with each other."
Anandur looked at Kian through the rearview mirror.
"Instead of you playing shrink, you could send Vanessa the surveillance recording from Navuh's patient room and have her analyze the interaction between him and Areana.
If she determines that Areana is suffering from Stockholm syndrome, that will change our entire approach to him.
We provide her with treatment and put him in stasis.
End of story. No need to find a location for a secure house for them. "
Areana had spent five thousand years as Navuh's mate, shaping herself around his moods and his demands. That kind of conditioning could very well be some sort of syndrome.
"I would gladly do that, but I cannot," she said. "I cannot send the recordings to Vanessa without Areana's consent, and she will never give it."
Kian angled his head. "That depends on how you frame it. You can tell her that Navuh might need psychological help, and you want the clan therapist to take a look at his reactions. Areana will agree to that."
It was tempting, and Annani was not dismissing the idea offhand.
"I will think about it. I have not seen Navuh in five thousand years, and I am curious to see how much he has changed."
"I still think we shouldn't be doing this today," Kian said. "What happened to waiting? Making him sweat?"
Annani shrugged. "I am following my gut, and it sends a sense of urgency that I did not feel when we discussed this yesterday."
"Your gut." Kian sounded skeptical. "Don't you mean your curiosity? You just can't wait to hear what Navuh thinks is so valuable."
She could not deny that curiosity played a part. Navuh had dangled a tantalizing hint, promising something supposedly precious, something worth negotiating for. She was curious.
But it was more than that.
"I admit that I want to find out what he has to offer, but I truly feel like I should not delay, that time is of the essence."
"He is not dying," Kian pointed out. "What can be urgent?"
"I do not know, and that is what troubles me.
" Annani frowned, trying to articulate the formless sensation that had been nagging at her since the celebration.
"Perhaps I was influenced by Areana's anxious energy.
She wanted to leave as soon as she could.
If Kalugal and Lokan had not been there, she would not have stayed for the celebratory feast. She would have wanted to return to Navuh immediately after my speech. "
"That's not healthy," Anandur commented from the front. "Being that dependent on someone, especially someone like Navuh."
"No, it is not." Annani agreed. "But Areana has been dependent on Navuh for a very long time. She does not know any other way to be."
They reached the keep a few minutes later, and as they entered the elevator, Annani turned to Kian. "Let me do the talking. At least at first. I want to take his measure."
Kian nodded. "As you wish. But I reserve the right to intervene if I think he's crossing the line."
"He will certainly try to goad me." Annani smiled. "But I am not Areana. He will not succeed in getting a rise out of me."
When they reached the clinic and Kian showed her the new procedure required to enter, she thought it was too much, but she chose not to say so. Kian seemed agitated enough already.
It dawned on her suddenly that she was tiptoeing around Kian's moods, the same way Areana was tiptoeing around Navuh's. She should not be doing this. Kian was a two-thousand-year-old immortal. He could handle a little criticism.
"This is excessive even by your standards," she said as the four of them squeezed into the small antechamber. "He is paralyzed. It is not like he can take anyone hostage."
"For now." Kian waited for the inner door to swing open. "But he is improving, and soon he will no longer be confined to bed. I underestimated an enemy once and almost paid for it with my life. I'm not going to do that again."
The reminder of what Igor had almost succeeded in doing sent a shiver down Annani's spine.
The enhanced Kra-ell had caught Kian with his compulsion power, immobilizing him and the brothers, and nearly tore his throat out.
If not for Jade tackling him to the ground and breaking his hold on their minds, he might have killed Kian.
"You are right, my son. Forgive me for belittling your security measures."
Kian looked so surprised that it was almost comical.
"Good morning," Bridget greeted them. "I sent Areana upstairs so you can go right in."
"How is he?" Kian asked.
"He continues to improve." Bridget pulled out a tablet from her coat pocket. "He has regained some feeling in his fingers and some movement in his neck, enough to slightly turn his head from side to side. His neural pathways are regenerating faster than I projected."
Annani exchanged a glance with Kian.
"How much faster?" Kian asked.
"Significantly. At this rate, he could have limited mobility in his arms within a week or two. Maybe even sooner."
"He is Mortdh's son," Annani said. "And Mortdh was a powerful god. It stands to reason that his offspring would inherit some of that strength."
The sense of urgency that had been humming beneath Annani's skin intensified, and as she looked at Kian again, she could see understanding in his eyes.
"Maybe that is why I felt the need to come today," she said. "As long as Navuh feels helpless, he will be more willing to negotiate. When he gets stronger, he will become more difficult."
"He's difficult now," Kian said flatly. "Even paralyzed, his mind is intact, and his tongue is sharp. Never forget that."
"I do not intend to forget anything." Annani drew herself up to her full height, which was not impressive by most standards, but she had learned long ago that true authority had nothing to do with physical stature.
Still, she was glad that Navuh would be lying down rather than standing and towering over her.
"Thank you for the update, Bridget. We will see him now."
Kian lifted his hand. "Are you wearing your compulsion-filtering earpieces?"
Annani stifled a smile. She had wondered how long he would be able to refrain from asking.
"Of course." She pushed her hair back to expose one ear. "Although I am quite certain that he cannot compel me. He could not compel Areana, and she is a weak goddess."
"I don't want to take any chances with him," Kian said. "No one goes in there without the compulsion-filtering earpieces."
Annani nodded and took a deep breath, centering herself. She had faced many challenges in her long life, had confronted enemies and allies, and everything in between. But this was different. This was personal in a way that few things had ever been.
Navuh was not just her enemy. He was also family—twisted and corrupted and responsible for untold suffering, but family, nonetheless. The grandson of her father's half-brother. Her sister's mate. The father of her dear nephews.
Kian might regard all of that as irrelevant, void because of all the evil deeds Navuh had committed, and he might be right, but Annani had promised Areana to keep an open mind, and she was going to keep that promise.
"Please, open the door," she said.
Bridget activated the door using her phone, and as it swung out, Annani stepped into Navuh's room.
The lights were dim, and the room looked almost cozy, with the hospital bed dominating most of the space. An array of medical equipment stood against the back wall, beeping softly and displaying all kinds of graphs on the various monitors.
And there, in the center of it all, was the male who had haunted her and her people for five thousand years.
He turned his head as she entered—slowly, with obvious effort, but he turned it nonetheless. His dark eyes found hers and Annani felt a chill run down her spine.
He looked like a shadow of his former self.
The great Navuh, head of the Brotherhood, was reduced to a broken body in a hospital bed. His face was gaunt, his cheeks hollowed, and his skin grayish.
But his eyes were the same as she remembered from all those years ago. Sharp and calculating, missing nothing, revealing nothing. And they were cold. Much colder than the ones she remembered. Those were the eyes of a predator, even when the predator could not move.
She had expected to feel triumph at seeing him like this. Perhaps even satisfaction, a sense of justice finally served after five thousand years of fighting for her life, for her clan, for humanity.
Instead, she felt pity mixed with a profound sadness for everything that might have been and never was. This was Ekin's grandson, the descendant of a god who had been kind and just and good. And once upon a time, Navuh himself had not been the monster he had later become.
What had twisted him?
What had introduced such darkness into his heart?
Kian stood beside her, with Anandur and Brundar guarding the door.
Navuh watched her with those dark, calculating eyes, and she watched him back.
Neither of them spoke.
The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the monitors.
The moment stretched, weighted down by five thousand years of animosity, of war, of loss, of blood spilled and lives destroyed.