The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

"They look worse when read by someone literate," Marin said.

Arik decided, privately, that he had brought Marin into this himself, which meant the suffering was only an unfortunate aftereffect of his own solution to Liam’s inability to process ether safely.

That did not make it less irritating.

"Felix," Liam said.

There was no surprise in his voice anymore.

Marin shrugged and reached for the tablet, pulling up a secondary file he had structured during the journey to Wrohan, because apparently even being dragged across a border by car and train, like a man living in a country whose economy had not yet discovered dignity, had not stopped him from preparing a medical plan.

"No flying," Marin said, bitter enough that Liam looked at him with interest. "Wrohan has banned Agaronian aircrafts from crossing controlled airspace without ten approvals, two stamps from Felix Canmore, and the emotional consent of a committee that likely meets once every lunar embarrassment."

Liam blinked once.

Then his mouth twitched.

"Wrohan does enjoy making movement unnecessarily ceremonial."

"It is not ceremonial," Marin said. "It is stupid."

"It is both."

Marin paused, then pointed at him. "I like you."

Arik looked between them and felt a slow, sinking certainty that this would become a problem.

Liam tilted his head toward the tablet. "You prepared that on the way here?"

"Yes."

"In the train?"

"The road between the eastern border and this city should be tried for crimes against elderly bones."

"You are not elderly."

Marin raised his pale brows with a smile that had once made three Shadows reconsider whether they truly wanted to remain in the room. Liam, unfortunately for everyone’s survival instincts, looked completely unaffected.

"I am seventy-eight, Liam," Marin said. "By omega standards, that makes me ancient. I do not have your dominant genes making me look thirty when I reach my age."

Liam studied him with mild annoyance. "That sounded like resentment."

"It was medical observation with personal bitterness."

"Those are different?"

"When I bill them separately."

Arik closed his eyes for a second.

Liam’s mouth twitched. "You don’t look ancient."

"Thank you," Marin said dryly. "I preserve myself through spite, tea, and refusing to die before certain imperial men make better life choices."

Arik opened his eyes. "That was directed at me."

"It often is," Marin said.

Liam glanced at Arik with visible interest. "Certain imperial men?"

"No," Arik said.

"Yes," Marin said at the same time.

Mezos, still standing near the door, looked as if he had discovered another reason not to enter family medical rooms unless ordered.

Liam leaned back in his chair, some of the earlier tension loosening despite himself. "So dominant genes slow aging?"

"They do many annoying things," Marin said. "Stronger ether tolerance, better regeneration, slower visible aging, and improved survival after injuries that should have killed people who deserved the lesson."

Arik looked at him.

Marin ignored him. "Dominant alphas are the worst offenders. Dominant omegas are more elegant about it, but no less irritating. You, if your condition is not being actively sabotaged, should age beautifully enough to become insufferable."

Liam blinked. "If?"

Marin’s amusement thinned into professional focus at once. "If your ether system is not under long-term interference, which is one of the things I intend to find out."

The tension in the room changed again.

Not sharply, but enough for Liam’s expression to close by a fraction.

Arik felt it through the bond, that instinctive recoil hiding beneath sarcasm.

Marin saw it too, and, to his credit, did not soften into pity. He simply turned the tablet back toward Liam and tapped the first stage of the plan.

"Passive mapping," he said. "No ether induction. No forced circulation. No direct pull. I will not ask you to use ether."

"Good," Liam said. "Because I would say no."

"I know. That is why I structured the plan around not being stupid."

Liam’s eyes narrowed. "That is a low standard."

"In Wrohanian medicine, apparently ambitious."

Liam looked at the floating scan sequence, then at the old reports pushed to the side. "Felix again?"

"Possibly Felix," Marin corrected. "Likely Felix’s influence. Possibly Felix’s poison. Possibly another intervention he later exploited. I am not giving him credit for the entire disaster until the data earns it."

For a moment, Liam only looked at him.

Then he nodded once, small and reluctant.

"Fine," he said. "That is acceptable."

Marin smiled. "Excellent. Hostile cooperation. We are ahead of schedule."

"I can still become worse."

"I would be disappointed if you did not."

—

Two hours later, an ether scanner smuggled into Wrohan sat in the center of the east sitting room like an object that knew it was illegal and felt no shame.

It had been smuggled because Agaron did not want Felix, or any of Wrohan’s deeply curious, deeply corrupt officials, getting their hands on imperial diagnostic technology, so the scanner had arrived in parts, hidden inside three diplomatic medical cases, two security trunks, and one porcelain tea shipment that Marin had immediately declared the only decent decision anyone had made all day.

It had taken two hours because Liam tried to disassemble it.

"For engineering purposes," Liam had said, with the solemn expression of a man committing treason in the name of science.

"No," Arik had said.

"I am only looking at the casing."

"You have a micro-tool in your sleeve."

"That is unrelated," Liam said, playing with the microtool between his fingers.

"You are holding it now."

"I am prepared."

Marin, instead of being offended, had watched with interest. "He found the secondary latch in under thirty seconds."

"I know," Arik said, physically removing the diagnostic cover from Liam’s hand before his mate could become an international incident with delicate fingers and red eyes full of professional hunger.

"That is impressive."

"It is dangerous."

"It can be both," Liam said.

Arik had convinced him not to continue only after promising him supervised access to the scanner’s non-classified structural schematics after the examination, copies of all raw scan data, and the right to complain about the casing design in writing.

Liam had accepted with poor grace and visible satisfaction.

Marin had looked delighted.

Arik had looked at the ceiling and briefly understood several things about his father’s marriage.

Now, the scanner stood assembled, humming softly over a circular base of dark silver alloy. Thin glasslike arcs rose from it in three adjustable ribs, threaded with faint blue light that did not behave like Wrohanian ether. It was cleaner. Quieter. Far more controlled. Agaron kept his technology behind sealed walls and armed doors for good reason.

Liam crouched beside it again.

Arik’s voice was immediate. "Liam."

"I am not touching it."

"You are breathing on it with intent."

"That is not regulated."

"It should be," Marin said, checking the calibration tablet.

Liam glanced up at him. "Do not side with him. I liked you for almost twenty minutes."

"A personal record, I assume."

"For physicians, yes."

Marin smiled without looking away from the tablet. "Then I am honored."

Mezos stood near the door, silent now, his work mostly finished. The visible work, at least. Arik knew the Shadows were still placed beyond the room, not close enough to make Liam feel trapped but close enough that no one would reach the door without being measured, judged, and possibly removed from the living world before Liam noticed.

Liam noticed none of them.

He was aware enough of the scanner, Marin, Arik, and his own long-held fear.

That was already too much.

"Sit," Marin said.