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“We don’t know,” Commander Bryce answered. “This is all I was sent.”
“How do we know it is true?” Michael asked as he read the message again. “Who brought it?”
As her Commander spoke to Michael, Tegan looked at Jasper, who was watching and waiting. He raised an eyebrow, and Tegan subtly scratched her ear. Jasper clenched his jaw and then gave a slight nod.
“I want you to know I am very unhappy about your decision,” Tegan said to her Commander and the Crimson Prime Castor.
“It is noted,” Bryce said dryly. “You may resume training,” he told both Tegan and Michael as he left the training room with Garrick beside him.
“What time?” Tegan asked Jasper when the door closed behind them.
“I’ll let you know,” he said as he left to catch up with his Commander.
“You’re going?” Michael asked incredulously.
“I will not be hidden in here when Akrhyn need me,” Tegan told him stubbornly. “And don’t even think of telling them,” she warned.
“Why would I not?” Michael asked her in disbelief.
Tegan grinned at her brother. “Because you’re coming with me.”
Michael went to protest, and then he looked at her, and his grin matched her own. “Well, when you put it like that,” he said with a laugh. “Come, let’s get ready.”
Cord stood in his room and looked around. Despite what he had told himself, he had not slept well in his old bed; he had tossed and turned all night as he thought about this morning and what lay ahead.
His stepfather, the man who had raised him, was to be tried today as a traitor to Akrhyn. He had disliked Cornelius since he was a child, when he became clever and wise enough to know that the male was not good. He was not fair. He was notdecent.
Cord pulled his long-sleeved T-shirt over his body and then, on a whim, turned his body and lifted the shirt to look at some of his back.Even from his twisted angle, he could see the deep indigo blue markings now on his skin. It seemed the bond wanted to not only tie itself to his heart, the Mark wanted to show its affection too. The coloured shading made the Mark stand out more, and he was actually quietly impressed with how detailed the artwork was. If he were human, a tattoo artist would be highly skilled to give this level of intricacy, but Cord was not human. He had not been tattooed in dark inks, not by a needle gun anyway.
Cord looked closer, the vines and stems that had crept out of the never-ending knot at the top of the design were now appearing at the bottom too. He twisted further to get a closer look. Was that an animal? No. He was delusional. Cord pulled his shirt down and stood and looked at himself in the mirror. His dark hair was too long, he mused as he brushed it out of his eyes. He had his father’s eyes, apparently. His mother’s were blue, but Cord’s were a steely grey that reflected his personality perfectly. Cold. Hard. Unbending. He was not overly handsome. Sloane, for example, was a much better-looking male than he. He smiled to see if that softened his hard angular features. He looked like he was in pain. He turned his head away from the mirror to see his side profile. Unsatisfied, he turned back and glared at himself as he noted all his flaws and imperfections.
“I never thought you were vain,” Sloane said from the doorway. “Arrogant, conceited, full of yourself because you are intelligent, but I didn’t realise you were vain about your looks.”
Cord turned to look at his brother. “I’m not vain.”
“Then tell me why you’ve been staring at yourself for the last few minutes like you’re in love with yourself?” Sloane said with a grin.
Cord grinned at his little brother. “Close the door,” he instructed with a jerk of his head in its direction. When Sloane had done so, he beckoned him forward. “Stand beside me.”
Sloane did as he was told. Sloane was broad—his muscles worked harder than Cord’s. His blond hair cut close to his head, his blue eyes always light and laughing. Their cheekbones were the same, their noses straight and not overly large, they had the same lip shape. Sloane had a stronger jaw, like his father. As Cord scrutinised his brother, he searched for any other features that Sloane had inherited from his father.
“We share more of mother than I thought,” Cord said quietly.
Sloane grunted as he leaned forward to inspect their reflections. “I’m still better looking,” he said with a smile.
“You are,” Cord said easily with a frown.
“Okay, these last few days have been rough, but do you want to tell me why you’re comparing our looks just now?” Sloane nudged his brother with his shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”
“Why would she pick me?” Cord said as he looked his brother over. “If not for the bond, why would she choose me?”
“This is about Tegan?” Sloane asked incredulously. “Tegan sees more than the surface, which I am pretty sure we are all supposed to look for, the depth of character, not the packaging.”
Cord grunted out a laugh as Sloane looked at him with a smile. “Now tell me what’s really wrong?” Sloane asked him as he sat on his bed. He was wearing Sentinel fatigues. He had tried to wear the suits that his father wore and his mother encouraged, but he felt more comfortable in his combat trousers and T-shirt. Sloane had prepared himself to be a Sentinel, a warrior, not a diplomat.
“I need you to look at my back and not tell anyone what you see,” Cord said as he checked the door was locked.
“Okay.” Sloane bounded off the bed eagerly as he had only seen the Mark once and he was keen to see it again. As his brother bared his back, Sloane knew his jaw dropped. “Holy Ancients,” he whispered as he stepped closer. “Have you seen it?” he asked as he caught Cord’s eye in the mirror.
