Chapter 34 Areana
AREANA
The morning hours passed slowly in the underground clinic, the small space and dim lighting making Areana restless. She rose to her feet just to get some movement.
She missed the harem grounds and her walks to the gazebo. She missed the library and the quiet work. She missed the inner courtyard with its fountain, and she missed all the human servants she'd left behind.
How were they faring without her? Were they being treated well?
Who was in charge of the island now?
If Losham had taken over, as Navuh suspected, he wouldn't have allowed things to get too bad.
The problem was that Navuh's control over the minds of his immortal warriors was weakening over time, and without his constant reinforcements, it would eventually fade completely.
Once that happened, she doubted Losham could hold things together.
She shouldn't worry about that.
It was no longer her responsibility. If they wanted to tear each other apart, so be it. There was nothing she could do about that.
Areana had realized over the thousands of years she spent with Navuh that her ability to make a difference was very limited.
She should focus on her mate and their future in this new reality they had found themselves in.
Her old default of leaving all the major decisions to him was no longer an option.
Here, she wielded much greater power than he did, so she shouldn't sit back while he negotiated the terms of his imprisonment on his own.
So far, he'd managed to antagonize both Kian and Annani, although her sister was better at hiding her aggravation than her son was.
Areana sat back down on her chair and glanced at Navuh, who appeared to be sleeping, but he wasn't. She knew what he sounded like when he was really sleeping. He was just resting, or plotting, or whatever he did when he retreated into his own head.
Perhaps he was concentrating on healing.
She had grown accustomed to this routine over the past two weeks—the quiet hours spent at his side, the conversations that ranged from the mundane to the profound, the careful attention to every small sign of improvement in his condition.
It was a strange kind of intimacy, this vigil.
Different from anything they'd shared before, yet somehow deeper.
They were spending more time together now than they ever had, and it was nice despite the unfortunate circumstances.
She liked having him all to herself.
Without windows, time was abstract down here in the same way it had been in the harem, but at least over there, they'd had the artificial lighting that tried to mimic conditions outside.
Here, mornings and evenings were distinguished only by the shift changes of the medical staff.
Areana had learned to mark time by the rhythm of Navuh's breathing, the soft beeping of the monitors, and the moments when Bridget came to check his vitals.
"Watch," Navuh said suddenly. "Look at my left hand."
Areana shifted her gaze to where his hand lay on the white sheet. For days, it had been motionless, with only the occasional involuntary twitch providing hope and excitement.
But now, as she watched, his fingers moved. It was a deliberate movement. First his index finger, then the middle one, the ring finger, the pinky. A slow, laborious curl and release, like a flower blooming in slow motion.
"Navuh." Her voice came out in a whisper. "You can move them."
"I can feel them too." His dark eyes found hers, and there was pure satisfaction in them.
Tears prickled Areana's eyes. She reached for his hand, cradling it gently between both of hers, and lifted it to her lips. She kissed each finger in turn.
He could feel it. She knew he could feel it because his breath became more shallow with each press of her lips, his eyes softening in a way that only she ever witnessed.
"I love you," she said against his knuckles.
"I know." His fingers curled weakly against her cheek, the movement clearly costing him effort but worth it for the contact. "I love you too, my Areana. My beautiful, perfect goddess."
She held his hand against her face for a long moment, savoring the warmth of his skin, the miracle of his touch after so many days of nothing. This was progress. This was hope. Every small movement was a step toward recovery.
When she looked up, she found that his expression had changed. The softness was fading, replaced by something harder, more focused. He was staring at the ceiling again, his jaw set in that particular way that meant his mind was working furiously.
She knew that look. She'd seen it countless times over the millennia—before battles, before negotiations, before the execution of plans that would reshape the political landscape of nations. It was the look of a strategist contemplating his next move.
"What are you scheming?" she asked.
Navuh's gaze didn't waver from the ceiling. "Scheming is such a harsh word."
"But accurate." Areana set his hand down on the bed but didn't release it, her fingers still intertwined with his. "You've been wearing that expression on and off for days. Something is brewing in that magnificent, terrible mind of yours."
A smile flickered across his lips at the description, there and gone. "I have information that the clan wants. Information that could change everything."
"You've been saying that for days." Frustration crept into her voice despite her efforts to keep it at bay. "You said it to Kian. You said it to Annani. You keep dangling this mysterious bait in front of them, but you won't tell anyone what it actually is."
"Patience, my love. Timing is everything in negotiations."
"I'm not talking about negotiations. I'm talking about us." She squeezed his fingers, perhaps harder than she intended. "Why won't you tell me? Don't you trust me?"
The look he gave her made her gut twist.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't even disappointment. It was something worse—a kind of mocking amusement, a raised eyebrow that said more than words ever could. Really? it seemed to ask. Are you really asking me to trust you? After everything that's happened? After you put me in this situation?
He was right. She had put him here. She had been communicating with Annani in secret for two years. She had planned an escape for Tula. She had watched him jump to save her. She had betrayed him, even if she had never meant to hurt him or for things to end this way.
"That's not fair," she said quietly.
"What isn't fair?"
"I didn't plan any of this."
"I'm not blaming you, Areana." His voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. "I'm just trying to find a way out of this mess."
He was blaming her, maybe not in words but in his demeanor.
Areana felt the tears threatening again, but this time they were hot and angry rather than joyful. "I just wanted to protect the ladies. Our sons."
"I know."
She wanted to argue, to defend herself, to explain all the complicated reasons behind her choices. But what could she say that she hadn't said already?
It all sounded like excuses.
Navuh had forgiven her. Now she just needed to forgive herself.
"I love you," she said instead. "That never changed."
Navuh was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, and his expression softened. "Your love is what kept me going. You were my oasis, my salvation."
"Were?" she asked.
"You are." His fingers twitched against hers. Intentionally, she realized, a deliberate caress.
"Then why won't you trust me with this?"
"Because some secrets are too valuable to share with anyone. Even you." His eyes found the camera mounted near the ceiling, the device that recorded everything that happened in this room.
Areana followed his gaze, understanding dawning.
Of course. Everything they said was being monitored.
Every conversation, every whisper, every moment of intimacy was captured and stored somewhere in the clan's systems. Kian had probably reviewed the recording, searching for useful information, trying to get inside Navuh's head.
Anything Navuh told her would be heard by others.
"You're impossible," she said, but there was no heat in it. She understood, even if she didn't like it.
Navuh chuckled. "And yet you love me anyway."
"I do, Fates have mercy on me. I do. Despite everything."
"That's the best kind of love." He turned his head, and she noticed that he had more mobility there now, too. The movement was smoother than it had been even yesterday. "The kind that persists."
Areana stroked his fingers absently, marveling at the fact that he could feel her touch again.
"You have a plan," she said.
"I always have a plan."
"A real plan. Something concrete, not just vague promises of valuable information.
" She studied his face, reading the subtle signs that five thousand years of partnership had taught her to recognize.
"You're in a good mood. Better than you've been in since we arrived here. That means something has changed."
Navuh's smile widened. "You know me too well."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice even though she knew the cameras would pick up everything regardless. "Do you really believe they'll set you free? Is that what you're counting on?"
His eyes flicked to the camera again, then back to her. The message was clear—he couldn't answer that question. Not here, not with their every word being recorded and analyzed.
"What I believe is that I have powerful leverage. What I believe is that the information I possess is valuable enough to warrant my release. What I believe is that Annani is curious enough to keep talking, and that as long as she's talking, there's opportunity."
"Opportunity for what?"
"For many things." His expression gave nothing away. "Annani and I have much to discuss."
Areana felt a chill run down her spine. She knew that tone—the carefully measured words, the deliberate vagueness, the hint of something vast lurking beneath the surface. Navuh was planning something big, and it irked her that she couldn't guess what it was.
"What are you going to tell her?" she asked.
"Let me save that for Annani."
The words were a dismissal, gentle but firm. He wasn't going to share more, not here, not now.
There was no point in pushing or even trying to follow how that magnificent, terrible mind of his worked. When Navuh decided to keep a secret, nothing short of a miracle could extract it from him.
Perhaps it was better not to know. Finding out what information he possessed would put her in an impossible position. She would be forced to choose between her loyalty to her mate and her love for her sister.
Some choices were better left unmade.