Heart of Obsidian

“Your memories,” her father said, cutting through the visceral reaction. “How damaged are they? There are medical telepaths who may be—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I don’t want anyone inside my head.” At her father’s immediate nod of understanding, she added, “And I have almost everything.” It was a lie, but how could she tell him that the biggest, most important piece was missing?

A piece named Kaleb.

It was hours later that they gave in to tiredness at last. Entering her bedroom, Sahara found a box of clothing Kaleb had clearly ’ported in, along with a cell phone encoded with his direct lines.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Changing into a loose T-shirt that happened to be at the top of the box, she slipped into her old single bed. Her rest was dreamless, and she woke the next morning ready to face the clan. Soon as she and her father had both breakfasted, they headed to Anthony’s office. The central NightStar compound, the homes built to blend into their surroundings, had always had larger areas of open and green space than was usual in Psy complexes, but those areas had been further expanded during her time in captivity, a number of leafy trees providing dappled shade.

Eyes widened when they landed on her, the shock too great to suppress, but no one attempted to stop their progress. When they reached the office, Anthony’s assistant, an older woman Sahara recognized from before her abduction, waved them in without questions. The head of the PsyClan, black hair silvered at the temples, came around his desk as they entered, his gaze direct, unwavering.

“Leon.” A nod to acknowledge his younger half brother before he returned his attention to her. “Sahara. You look well.”

Yes, she did. Thanks to the care of the most deadly cardinal on the planet, her face wasn’t gaunt, her body slender but healthy. She knew, however, that her physical health wasn’t at the top of Anthony’s list of priorities. “I don’t know,” she said, “if my rescuer embedded any treacherous tendencies in me, but I believe not.” Kaleb didn’t need to control her in that fashion. And—“My ability means I would’ve been aware of any such attempts at mental coercion.”

“Does your rescuer have a name?”

She told him, having informed her father ahead of time.

“I see.” Walking back around the desk, Anthony retook his seat, waving for them to do the same. “According to the PsyNet, you don’t exist.”

“Good.” Her father’s response was fierce. “It means she’s safe from any further attempts to abduct and cage her, even if it is Krychek doing the protecting.”

“Agreed.” Anthony leaned back in the black leather of his chair. “Do you know the identity of the individual or individuals behind your captivity?”

Sahara hadn’t discussed this with Kaleb but saw no reason why he’d want the truth kept secret—and it was the truth, of that she had no doubt. Kaleb did not lie to her. “Tatiana Rika-Smythe.”

No surprise in Anthony’s expression, nothing but the penetrating intellect of a man at the head of one of the most influential families in the Net. “Did Kaleb mention why he rescued you?”

Sahara hesitated . . . and then she lied. “It was a challenge, and NightStar now owes him a significant favor.” What was between her and Kaleb was between her and Kaleb. She’d allow no one else to interfere with the raw, passionate relationship formed of hidden memories and the charm bracelet she wore concealed under her simple white shirt, a talisman of strength from a man who might be her greatest, deepest weakness. “The psychic cost of the exercise, he decided, would be worth the gain.”

From the way Anthony’s eyes, a rich brown, lingered on her, he knew she was hiding something, but Sahara didn’t flinch. Secret, the girl she’d been whispered. Secret.

“The secondary benefit of your lack of visibility in the Net,” Anthony said into the heavy quiet, “is that your splintered Silence remains hidden from the pro-Silence lobby.”

Fingers trembling, she gripped the arms of her chair. “Are you planning to order me to undergo a program of reconditioning?” No one was ever again going to attempt to mold her mind to their liking, and if that was what Anthony planned, she had to know.

“No.” Her father’s gaze locked with his half brother’s, his loyalties clear. “No one touches Sahara’s mind.”

Anthony’s response was a calm “Yes. It’s too late for that,” but his eyes continued to watch her. “Kaleb may not have attemped to hack your mind; however, Tatiana had you for an extended period. How certain are you that you haven’t been compromised?”