“It should have cooled by now.”
I picked it up and sipped a tiny bit. “You’re right.” Holding the cup, I rested my right arm in my lap.
Bruns surged to his feet. “Do you really think I’m an idiot?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your guides are very observant. It didn’t take us long to guess why Leif always brought food to your room. I suspected when you first woke. As the Commander’s food taster, you must have a sensitive palate. You can stop the act.” Without warning, he grabbed my left wrist and pain pierced my forearm.
A dart was stuck in my skin. “What...?”
“I believe you call it goo-goo juice. Leif unarmed you while you were sleeping and gave me all your nasty darts filled with Curare, sleeping potion and goo-goo juice.”
My head spun as fear clawed my stomach. I set the tea on the table to avoid spilling it in my lap.
Bruns knelt in front of me. “Now, let’s talk.”
26
VALEK
Valek stared at his father and then at the young man next to him. The one who resembled his dead brother Vincent. Or rather, how he would have looked if Vincent had lived four or five more years. And it clicked why Zohav and Zethan seemed so familiar. His parents had more children after he’d left.
Strong emotions strangled Valek, rendering him mute. He hadn’t seen his father since he was thirteen and left to seek revenge for the murder of his brothers. Since his parents told him never to return.
“Dad, what’s going on? Who is he?” the young man asked again.
Valek’s father ignored the questions. He walked toward Valek with his brown-eyed gaze locked on him and as paralyzing as Curare. Gray had replaced his once-black hair, and wrinkles lined his leathery face. A part of Valek noted that he wore a tanner’s uniform as required, but various colored dyes had stained the white diamonds.
Relaxing his grip on the hilt of his sword, Valek dismounted and stood at the gate. He clamped down on the maelstrom of shock, pain, fear and grief that raged inside him. Instead, he channeled the calm detachment he’d learned to rely on during times of great danger.
When his father reached the other side of the gate, he opened it and said, “Welcome home, son.”
Those three words slammed into him. He rocked back on his heels, and only Onyx’s solid body behind him kept Valek upright.
“Son? What are you talking about?” the young man asked. His voice squeaked with alarm.
“This is Valek, the Commander’s chief of security and your older brother,” his father said. “Valek, this is Zebulon.”
Zebulon’s shocked expression meant his...their father hadn’t mentioned Valek before. And he wondered if Father had told him about Vincent, Viliam and Victor.
Just then his mother yelled from the house, “Kalen, Zeb, get in here! The twins are back! They’re alive!”
Without a word, both men bolted to the house. Valek sagged against Onyx, glad for the few minutes to collect his wits, which had scattered when his father called him son. Completely unexpected, the word woke the small boy who had hidden deep down inside him. The child who craved his parents’ love and approval and wished to be held and comforted. And although he tried to shove that young boy back into his slumbering coma, the damage was done. Valek suddenly needed Yelena’s touch and her strength. With her support, he could endure this encounter. Without it—he might lose control of everything.
Valek pulled in a few deep breaths, knowing he didn’t have much time before the entire family came spilling from the house. No matter what happened, the twins still needed to go to Sitia. However, he suspected leaving after only a few hours would be impossible for all concerned.
As predicted, five people streamed from the house. His mother led the way straight toward him. She held a large kitchen knife and her expression was not welcoming. Not at all. Anger and determination emanated from her blue eyes—the mother bear protecting her cubs. She’d saved his life. And the nail-shaped scars still marked his shoulder from when she had held him back from attacking the soldiers who’d murdered his brothers.
Valek fought the instinct to grab his knives in the face of her charge. The others shouted after her to stop and think and calm down, but her stride never wavered. She halted on the other side of the open gate and brandished her weapon. The others fell silent, or rather held their collective breaths.
“You will not harm my children. You will not take them away,” she said.
“I have no intention of harming them.” Glad his voice didn’t shake, he added, “Now that I know who they are, I will ensure they are protected once they’re in Sitia.”