Brevan
The Penumbra was exactly as I’d left it. Dark hull. Powerful engines. Weapons systems that would make most military vessels jealous. Home.
Kallum docked the transport smoothly. The ship’s bay doors closed behind us. Artificial gravity stabilized. We were safe. Actually safe for the first time since the villa.
I helped Carys out of the transport. Flinx leaped down beside us, his eyes shifting to curious blue as he examined the new environment.
The bay opened into the main corridor. And waiting there was the crew.
Rylos stood at the front, his arms crossed. His deep violet traceries were stark against his gray skin, and his cold eyes missed nothing. As the Hand’s leader and architect, he saw everything as a schematic, and I’d just brought him a variable he hadn’t planned for.
Beside him stood the others. Talon and Tamsin, their matching cobalt sigils a clear sign of their bond.
Zarek and Bronwen, his iron-grey and her new, bright silver, stood together.
Varrick and Sabine, emerald green. Kallum, his black traceries fading into his uniform, had already moved to join them.
The whole family.
I felt Carys pause beside me. Her eyes scanned the other human women—Tamsin, Bronwen, Sabine—and their visible, permanent sigils. I felt her realization: I’m not the first. I’m not an anomaly.
“You’re alive,” Rylos said. It was as close to ‘welcome back’ as he ever got. “Good. I was prepared to mount a rescue operation.”
“We handled it,” I said.
“So I heard.” Rylos’s gaze flicked to Carys. “Valerius’s interference was unexpected. We’ll need to discuss that debt.”
“Nice work with the chaos,” Bronwen said, grinning. “We monitored the security chatter. Tarsus was losing his mind.”
“That was the goal.”
Varrick’s gaze shifted to Carys. Then to Flinx. His eyes widened slightly. “Is that a Cy-Lynx? Modified model? Those data-ports are custom work.”
Flinx sent to Carys.
Carys’s lips twitched. “He... says he doesn’t trust you.”
Varrick’s expression shifted to pure delight. “It’s a neural link? Beautiful work. Who did the modifications?”
Carys looked at Flinx.
“He says he did them himself,” Carys translated, “and he’ll negotiate his own upgrades.”
“He talks,” Varrick said, fascinated. “We should discuss—”
Flinx sent.
“Later,” Carys said, her voice firm.
Sabine laughed. “I like him. He’s direct.”
Rylos’s gaze moved back to Carys. Assessing. “You’re the curator.”
“Carys,” she said. Her voice was steady. Not intimidated. “And yes, I’m the curator who helped steal your artifact.”
“Good.” He looked at me. “My office. Now. Bring the Regalia. And her.”
The crew dispersed. Tamsin gave Carys a supportive nod, a silent welcome.
I led Carys through the corridors. Flinx followed, his sensors mapping the ship.
Rylos’s office was spartan. A desk. A display screen. Nothing else. He stood behind the desk, waiting.
I pulled the wrapped Regalia from my jacket and set it on the desk. This was what mattered. The mission.
Rylos didn’t touch it. He just looked at Carys. “Kallum’s report says Tarsus knew everything. Renna was his agent.”
“No,” Carys said, her voice clear. Rylos and I both looked at her. “He wanted me to think that. He said she was, but she was just under surveillance. Tarsus was lying to make me feel isolated.”
Rylos processed that, his gaze sharpening with new respect. “He was testing you.”
“Yes,” I said. “And she used his own trap to create a decoy and escape. Quick thinking. Varrick couldn’t have done it better.”
He looked at me. “She’s an asset.”
“She’s my partner,” I said.
Rylos’s eyes held mine. He understood everything I wasn’t saying. “Good. We need an authenticator for the final Regalia. The position is yours, if you want it.”
“I’m with him,” Carys said. “I’ll help.”
“Then you’re dismissed.” Rylos turned his attention to the Regalia. “Debrief tomorrow, eight hundred. For now, get rest. You both look like you’ve been through hell.”
“We have,” I said.