Carys
The blaster’s muzzle pressed cold against my chest. Tarsus held it steady. His expression empty. The kind of calm that came before someone pulled the trigger.
“Where. Is. He.”
I kept my breathing even. Shallow. The collar’s weight felt heavier than usual. Or maybe that was the second blaster still aimed at my throat by the guard behind me.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
His finger moved to the trigger. “Wrong answer.”
Flinx growled low. His synthetic body coiled next to my feet. His eyes burned warning red, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Two armed guards. Two blasters. Any attack would end with me dead before he crossed half the distance.
I sent through the link.
Tarsus studied me. His eyes had shifted to deep orange. The color he wore when he was done playing games and ready to hurt someone.
“Let me clarify the situation,” he said quietly. “I know about your escape plan. I’ve known for months.”
My blood chilled.
“Your supplier, Renna?” he scoffed. “I’ve had her under surveillance for a year. I let her get you those parts. I wanted to see what my little curator was building. Every component you purchased. Every illegal part you acquired. I knew all of it.”
The floor felt unsteady. Renna. Not a traitor. Just... watched. As I had been.
“I know you’ve been stealing from my meal allowances,” he continued. “Skimming credits. Building a fund. I let you. To gauge your resourcefulness. How far you’d go.”
He was lying. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the slight shift of his weight. He'd suspected something, maybe, but not this. Not everything. He was scrambling to seem in control.
“This was never about the gala,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “This was a test.”
“Very good.” He smiled. No warmth. Just satisfaction.
“I suspected something when a Vinduthi arrived on Valyria. The timing was too convenient. A wealthy collector with no real background appearing just as tensions with the Conclave intensified? Please. So I did what any prudent person does. I investigated.”
He gestured to the empty velvet cloth on his desk. The missing sculpture’s absence felt like a void in the room.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice him sniffing around? I knew what he was the moment he docked. I simply allowed him to attend the gala to see what you would do. I wanted to see if my prize curator was still loyal.”
Tarsus moved around me in a slow circle. Examining me from every angle. The blaster never wavered.
“You failed the first test when you met him in the tunnels. Made your deal. Agreed to betray me.” He stopped in front of me. “You failed the second test when you created that... ‘system failure.’ Brilliant work, by the way. Using my own gala as cover for your sabotage. Very clever.”
“Sir—”
“And you failed the final test,” he continued, ignoring me, “when you stood there in the ballroom, pretending to be frightened while you bought him time to get here. Protecting your partner.” His expression shifted. Something darker. “You chose him over me. That’s what I needed to know.”
The guards shifted behind me. Their weapons ready. Waiting for orders.
“So here we are.” Tarsus gestured to the office. The empty desk. The sealed door. “Your Vinduthi partner has my sculpture. He’s hiding somewhere in this room. And you’re going to tell me where.”
I met his eyes. Kept my voice level. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I shoot you. Right here. Right now.” He pressed the blaster harder against my chest. “Your contract wasn’t cheap, but I can absorb the loss. Some lessons are worth the cost. But I’ll level this building to get the Regalia back.”
Flinx sent.
Tarsus raised his voice. Speaking to the empty room. “Brevan. I know you’re here. I know you can hear me. So let me make this very simple.”
He moved the blaster from my chest to my temple. Metal cold against my skin.
“Come out now. Surrender the sculpture. And maybe I let her live.” His finger rested on the trigger. “Or stay hidden. Keep the Regalia. And watch me put a pulse through her brain.”
The office was silent. No response. No movement.
Because Brevan couldn’t answer. If he revealed himself, Tarsus would kill us both. If he stayed hidden, Tarsus would kill me and then search until he found him.
No good options. No winning moves.
My mind raced through possibilities. The maintenance shaft. The only place in the office with enough space to hide someone. I had no doubt that Brevan had noticed it during the consultation. He’d asked about building infrastructure, access points, repair protocols.
He was in the shaft. Had to be.
And Tarsus would find him eventually. Search every panel. Every vent. Every possible hiding spot until the sculpture was recovered.
“Nothing?” Tarsus’s voice carried mock disappointment. “No heroic rescue? No dramatic entrance?” His gaze fell on me. “I’m surprised. I thought Vinduthi were supposed to be honorable. Protective of their mates.”
“I’m not his mate,” I said. “I’m his partner. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” He traced the blaster along my jaw. “Because from where I stand, it looks like he thinks you’re expendable. Everyone wins. Except you.”
The guard behind me shifted. Adjusting his grip on his weapon. Ready to fire if I tried anything.
Flinx’s eyes burned brighter. His body stayed low. Coiled. Every muscle ready to spring.
I sent.
He went still. Hating it. But understanding.
Tarsus moved back to the center of the office. His blaster still aimed at my head. “Last chance, Vinduthi. Ten seconds. Then I pull the trigger.”
Silence.
“Ten.”
My heart rate climbed. Not panic. Just biology responding to immediate threat.
“Nine.”
I looked at the maintenance shaft’s panel. No movement. No sound. Brevan was too smart to reveal himself. He’d stay hidden. Wait for an opportunity. Save the Regalia even if it meant I died.
That was the professional choice.
The right choice.
“Eight.”
Flinx’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“Seven.”
“Six.”
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
I looked down at him. His synthetic black form. His glowing red eyes. The data-ports along his spine already active. Accessing systems. Preparing to act.
He’d been with me for six years. Watched over me. Kept me safe. Never failed me once.
“One.”
The lights went out.