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“I’ve never arrived by the gate or by vehicle. Would you slay me also, Sentinel?” Cord snapped angrily. “I don’t know of anyone who does!”
“The Heir arrived by car yesterday,” the Sentinel told Cord quietly.
Cord almost stopped breathing as fear clutched at his throat. “My brother returned?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?” Cord stepped forward, his stare intimidating to the Sentinel.
“Yes.”
Cord cursed the Ancients, and the Sentinel winced as he looked fearfully around the room. “Oh behave, they aren’t going to smite you down, idiot.” Cord stood silently, his gaze pensive as he considered the information. He had felt Sloane call to him, but he had ignored him, too focused on Drakhyn and unbreakable spells, and there had been no urgency in his call. Why would Sloane return to Cornelius? Cord exhaled loudly as he realisedexactlywhy his brother would return. Cornelius would have ordered him as Heir. Cord bit his tongue to stop another curse as he felt the Mark tingle on his back. The urge to return to his childhood home was warring with hisneedto break the unbreakable barrier over the Vampyre Court.
The Markrippled, and Cord almost tore his tunic and shirt off to demand the Sentinel describe exactly what was happening; however, the fact the Sentinel looked ready to pass out at any given moment meant Cord restrained himself. Barely.
Sloane was clever, he reasoned to himself. Sloane was also well aware of all his father’s failings. Cord snorted in derision. He knew this would happen…eventually. He had renounced the right to be Heir, and Cornelius was a petty male who would act first and think later, but Cord knew his brother would be able to handle him. Wouldn’t he?
“Why did you think you could sneak up on a Castor?” Cord asked absentmindedly as he continued to mull Cornelius’s actions over in his head.
“Didn’t know he was one. The other two wore cloaks, so I thought they were all just normal Akrhyn.”
Cord was about to rebuke the termnormal, but stilled before his head turned slowly to the Sentinel. “Other two?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
The Sentinel paled, but he needn’t have worried, the Castor suddenly disappeared from the room, and it was only when he realised he was truly gone, the Sentinel’s body relaxed. His arms were still pinned to his sides, and as the sweat dripped down his brow into his eyes, he fervently wished they weren’t as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing.
Cord pushed the door open to Lucas’s room and was not at all perturbed that the Dark Prime Castor was resting.
“You took her to Cornelius?” he demanded.
“I did. You tasked her to find Council Elder Alexander, you accused your stepfather of being involved, where else would the investigation begin?” Lucas asked as he sat up slowly.
Cord stood silent for a moment before he turned and left the room. Closing himself into his own room, he ripped his shirt from his back and strained his neck to see his reflection in the mirror. The Mark was the familiar design on his skin. A well-known symbol to any Akrhyn. The endless knot with some areas shaded in what could be considered to be black ink, which appeared to give a depth to the design. Stems and vines reached out from the top of the main design as if the symbol were being suspended from Cord’s shoulders, held by the vines, suspending the knot. The vines were a “gift” from the Ancient Arflyn, or so they suspected. They appeared on his back for the healing that Cord had carried out to the land he burned when he killed the Drakhyn that took Zahra. The additional whorls and swirls of the design had always been darker, and now, to Cord’s bemusement, they were coloured. The black lines had changed to a purple. His eyes narrowed—no, not purple, indigo.
Like the colour of her eyes.
“Lucas!” Cord roared as he stood and still studied the Mark.
Lucas and Garrick both came running into the room. Lucas went to speak, but the sight of the Mark stilled his tongue. Garrick wasn’t as reverent as he strode towards Cord, his hand already outstretched towards the Mark.
“What is happening?” Cord bit out through gritted teeth.
“You did nothing?” Garrick asked as he peered at the coloured lines. “Curious colour,” he murmured with a glance to Cord. “Preference?”
Cord smirked mockingly at his Prime. “Believe it or not, Velvore does not converse with me about his design.”
“Purple is deemed to be a royal colour,” Rorik said from the doorway. His eyes were wide with wonder as he stared at Cord’s back. “May I?”
Cord was about to protest but saw Garrick nod and held his tongue. The Pure Prime walked further into the room, and then he too was standing behind Cord as the three Primes contemplated the design.
“It is good that you can see it,” Lucas said to Rorik.
“It’s magnificent,” Rorik breathed. “Can I touch it?”
Cord felt the sharp jab from Lucas to stop his ready reply and dipped his head as he recalled his answer he gave when Lucas had asked him the same thing. Instead, he invited the Pure Prime to explore his markings.
“The colour looks familiar,” Garrick mused.
“Royalty,” Rorik said again.
