Page 104 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

“There you are!” my father’s angry voice cut through the air as I crossed the foyer to leave.

I hadn’t seen him do anything but walk at a sedate, stately pace in years, but he sure moved fast today, rushing across the marble floor to grab my upper arm in a tight grip.

I was more surprised than worried; he was acting entirely out of character, which was why I didn’t immediately move to free myself.

“What’s going on?” I asked mildly, making sure to put a good dose of that famous Akentral disdain in my voice.

He was looking at me as if I’d misbehaved, his upper lip curled to show his sharp canine teeth.

Even though I was now the head of the family, and I rationally knew he had no right to treat me this way, I still felt a spark of fear.

What had I done to cause such a reaction?

Had Jalina overheard my call with Kitan? Had she betrayed me?

It wasn’t my father who answered; he wasn’t the true power in the family anyway.

It was my mother who answered, sleekly gliding down the stairs.

“I won’t let you ruin our family name after all the work we put in to restore it!

Not when Kitan is finally back where he belongs.

” Her voice was as cold as ice, her sharp blue eyes like chips of diamond boring into me.

I shrugged. “Of course not, Mother. If you recall, it was I who rebuilt the family fortune. Why would I do anything to jeopardize that?” There was only one way to deal with people like my parents, and I’d perfected that skill long ago.

Most days, my parents were perfectly content to let me rule our little empire, they thought I was just like them.

I’d gone to great lengths to make them think that.

Today, my mother kept staring at me, disappointment on her face. That look still served to make me feel like a boy, always failing to live up to their extreme expectations. It was no wonder that my siblings had scattered to the wind, disappearing into their own lives as soon as they could.

“So you weren’t about to meet with a journalist?

You didn’t receive a call from your obstinate brother?

” she said. An elegant finger, tipped with a sharp claw painted blue, flicked over the com strapped to her wrist. All the muscles in my body tensed, readying for a fight, and my father’s hand around my upper arm tightened with surprising strength.

“I am meeting with a journalist,” I said, because telling a lie as close to the truth as possible was always the best option.

“She’s going to do an exposé about our newest improvements in fast shipping; specifically the automation improvements in our warehouses.

” I tried to adopt a confused expression, not betraying the intense way my heart was racing.

My mother’s eyes narrowed, and I knew she didn’t believe me, but my father—never the brightest bulb—tilted his head, and his grip started to loosen.

I took the opportunity to shrug him off and step back, straightening my coat in a perfunctory manner.

“Now, if you’ll let me get on with it,” I declared, reaching for the door, my fingers clammy with nerves.

“Ah, you’re as conniving as your little brother, aren’t you, boy?

” a new voice drawled. My hand brushed the doorknob as I turned my head just enough to see who the newcomer was.

My breath stalled in my throat when I saw the extravagant gold robes and the wrinkled face with sharp, kohl-lined eyes: Grand Master Purveyn, one of the seven high priests of the Suleantran Order himself.

There was only one way this would end, so I booked it.

Swinging the massive front door open on its quiet hinges and leaping outside.

This is where my daily runs came in; I was halfway across the front lawn, racing for the open gate, when the first shouts went up.

If I could make it out the gate, I’d grab the nearest hoverbike and make it to a public place where I could call Samir to meet me.

I hadn’t counted on a whole contingent of Suleantran guards waiting just outside the Akentral property.

I made it to the gate just as they spread out to stop me.

I was roughly tackled to the ground by several of them, and while I fought, shifting into my hybridform, I was no match for four soldiers hanging onto each of my limbs.

In moments, my hands were bound behind my back, my face pressed in the dirt by one knee, another on my back.

Purveyn and my parents came to stand over me while I still struggled against my bonds.

“We traced the call you received,” Purveyn said, his cultured voice slicking over my skin like oil.

“You’ll lead us right to your brother. Thank you for your service.

” At a sharp gesture from his hand, I was hauled to my feet, my clothing in disarray, and my hair spilling out of the careful topknot I’d put it in.

A vehicle pulled up behind me, and I was forced to climb aboard, my feet heavy with desperation.

How was I going to set my plan in motion if Samir wasn’t here?

She’d miss all the action. It didn’t even bother me when my mother followed me into the vehicle and started dusting off my clothing with a tsking noise.

If they’d traced Kitan’s call… Purveyn was going there right now to apprehend him and Chloe.

That would be the end of the human girl, she needed medical care immediately.

I’d heard it in Kitan’s voice, just how desperate the situation was.

Purveyn would never get it for her; he’d use her death to punish Kitan for disobeying him.

It seemed like my parents and I were going to get front-row seats for the capture.

Kitan was going to think I’d betrayed him; it hurt just to think that.

Here I was, pinned in place in a seat, my mother working to fix up my disheveled appearance.

She was sticking the two gilded, carved sticks back through the knot with practiced motions—the very sticks that denoted me the head of the house, which clearly didn’t mean anything to my parents when I didn’t do what they wanted.

My father sat across from me, rubbing his hands in excitement, his sharp golden eyes exactly like mine and Kitan’s. That felt like an insult now.

Purveyn was a few seats ahead, surrounded by his guards, a smug grin on his face.

My parents didn’t care that they were destroying the life of yet another son, that they were about to be part of a murder.

What about Lo? She was supposed to be locked up in a gilded little cage, but not yet forced to perform like Kitan. How long was that going to last?

I shook off my mother’s hand as she pulled on my hair, trying to redo the topknot.

My eyes snagged on a glint of silver just outside the land vehicle’s window.

Was that a camera drone? My entire body tensed, and I fought to restrain the urge to look more closely.

If that was indeed a drone, Samir had gotten to the Akentral home in record time.

If she had recorded my capture and was now following us, nothing was lost at all.