Page 38 of Enslak

I'd seen them only once, from a distance—three figures moving through the corridors with an entourage of guards and advisors. The Prime had walked with purpose, her robes flowing behind her like liquid gold. Cullen, tall and broad-shouldered, stayed close to her side, his hand occasionally touching the small of her back. And Kavak—older than Enslak by a couple of years, his pelt a darker shade of bronze—moved with the controlled grace of someone trained for combat.

Charick, chieftain of the Bardaga, was often with them.

I'd seen him more frequently than the others. He moved through the medical wing like he owned it, which I supposed he did. This was his ship, his crew, his domain.

They hadn't acknowledged me. Hadn't sought me out.

I'd told myself it was because they were focused on Enslak, on his recovery. That they had more important things to worry about than the human detective who'd barely managed to keep their son alive.

But part of me wondered if they blamed me. If they looked at his broken body suspended in that chamber and saw my failure written in every wound.

Now, apparently, I was about to find out.

The corridors twisted until we reached ornate doors flanked by guards who could tear me in half without breaking a sweat. They didn't stop me, just watched as the nurse announced my arrival.

The chamber beyond wasn't what I expected—warm, almost comfortable, with furniture that looked nearly Earth-like. Standing at a massive viewport, gazing at the stars, was Alliance Prime Serna.

She turned.

On Calpa, she'd been composed and regal. Now she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her golden eyes—the same shade as Enslak's—were bloodshot. Her pelt was matted. The robes that should have shimmered with power just looked heavy.

When she looked at me, I saw it all at once: relief, anguish, desperate hope, and something that looked a lot like fear.

"Detective Nguyen." Her voice was softer than I remembered. "You came."

"Of course, Lady Prime."

Something in her face cracked. "You promised to bring my son home." She paused, her voice catching. "And you kept that promise."

The gratitude should have made me feel proud. Instead, it tightened my chest with guilt.

"I brought him back," I said quietly. "But I don't know if—"

"If you saved him or condemned him?" Serna finished. She gestured to the seating area. We sat close enough that I could see the fine tremor in her hands. "Tell me what happened. Everything."

So I told her. About landing on Merisalle, watching Enslak return from the pits, the way the Negita had treated him like an animal. About removing the collar and our escape through the sewers, how he'd carried me to keep me safe from the filth. About the guards who'd attacked us, how he'd fought them all while bleeding and dying because protecting me mattered more than his own life.

About that moment before he'd lost consciousness, when he'd touched my face and said a single word: safe.

Serna listened without interrupting, her expression growing more pained with each detail.

"He spoke to you," she said finally.

"Yes."

"He hasn't..." She stopped, pressing her hand to her mouth. "Seven times we've tried to wake him. Seven times he's attacked anyone near him. Confused. Terrified. George has tried everything."

She wrapped her arms around herself.

"His body healed. The augmentations are mostly gone. But his mind..." Her voice cracked. "A century of torture. I don't know how to reach him anymore."

"But he was calm with me," I said. "On Merisalle. He held my hand. He protected me."

"I know." She turned back to face me, tears streaming down her cheeks. "That's why I wanted to tell you before you saw him. Before the family decides."

She sank back into her chair.

"We're going to try one more time. Tomorrow at dawn." She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "If he's unchanged... if he's still trapped in there... we'll grant him the koa ukufa. A warrior's death. It's what he would have wanted."