Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

As the door clicked, I moved to Navan and clutched his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I just…” He pulled a hand from my grasp and ran it through his hair in exasperation. “I can’t believe it.”

“How is your uncle even getting away with this?” I asked. “I thought your family was, like, really high ranked back on Vysanthe. How is he doing this unnoticed?”

Navan blew out. “Uncle Lazar is kind of the black sheep of the family—though not for reasons even remotely related to treason. He’s an alchemist, like my father, but he’s published some shoddy studies over the years that have discredited him as a scientist and lost him favor with the queen.”

“I guess that explains why Orion is interested in you over him? Otherwise, Lazar could have done whatever job Orion wants you to do.”

“True. My status back home is greater, and I have more influence and access to things in general.”

We fell silent, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room was that of the footsteps, drifting in from the corridor.

“I was never that close to him,” Navan said finally. “If I were, then this would hurt a lot more. But I never could have imagined he would stoop to this.” He glanced sullenly toward the door, then back at me with a look of deep resignation in his eyes. “You ready to leave?”

I hesitated, not feeling ready to leave this little haven in the slightest, but then nodded. “If you are.”

He took my hand and led me toward the door. “I’m not sure I’ll make it halfway down the corridor before I decapitate him, but let’s see how this goes.”





Chapter Eleven





As we descended the staircase to Orion’s office, Navan walked in stony silence, refusing to say a word, even when his uncle spoke to him. His way of dealing with the situation seemed to involve pretending that his uncle didn’t exist. Which was fine by me.

He had let go of my hand after we left our little room, evidently not wanting to draw more attention to us than necessary. Still, I wished he hadn’t. There was comfort in the feel of his cool skin against mine, and right now, I needed something to hold onto, to ground myself in the moment. I still couldn’t believe I’d managed to get us into this situation—how could everything have crumbled so fast?

I kept my gaze on Lazar’s lean frame, trying to garner a hint of family resemblance somewhere in the older man’s face. Perhaps there was something in the glint of his eyes, though Lazar’s were hazel, where Navan’s were the color of a winter storm. Scrutinizing him closely, I couldn’t help but wonder what Navan’s father might look like—did he look more like Navan, or was he closer to this man, with aging features and only a hint of a likeness? How could the two brothers have ended up on such opposite sides of the spectrum? One, the queen’s trusted advisor. The other, a rebel against the crown.

Keeping close to Navan’s side, resisting the urge to take his hand in mine again, I walked with him the rest of the way toward the grimly familiar entrance of Orion’s office. Up until the very last moment, Lazar made attempts at enticing Navan into conversation, but Navan was having none of it. I didn’t blame him. His uncle’s moral compass was screwed up, and I could see the frustration Navan felt at Lazar ending up so far down the rebel rabbit hole. I had never believed in the idea of “necessary evils”, and I wasn’t about to start believing in them now. No, if a handful of people suffered for a cause, then that was a handful of people too many.

Besides, the “necessary evil” that Lazar was trying to pass off as acceptable was so far beyond the line of righteousness that I doubted he could even see the line anymore. Judging by the harrowing sight of the red smoke billowing from the strange metal silo, more than a handful of innocents had already suffered for this supposed cause. Lazar was either kidding himself, or he’d been conditioned by the rebels to believe that what he was doing was for all the right reasons. I didn’t know which was worse.

I’d seen it before. It was history, repeating itself, over and over again. I was just surprised that an apparently superior race was not immune to the same mistakes that felt so deeply human to my mind.

Even so, the sight of Lazar’s earnest eyes, practically pleading with Navan to turn and look at him, or to at least answer him, made me feel a slight twinge of pity. Not that I had any leg to stand on when it came to ignoring certain family members. I could understand the impulse to push them away, yet the soft plea in Lazar’s voice tugged at some sympathetic string in my heart. There wasn’t time to bridge the rift between them, to figure out the minutiae of what had led Lazar into this world, but I hoped there might be a moment later in which Navan might sit down with his uncle and hash out their differences. I didn’t know why; I just did.

Lazar gently rapped on the door of Orion’s office, a dull thud echoing into the room beyond.

“Come in,” called the baritone voice I now recognized so clearly. I could already picture the broad-shouldered, imposing figure of Orion awaiting us behind his desk, his dark eyes hungry for the information I had promised.

“It will be easier if you agree to his terms, Navan. And please, do not lie to him,” Lazar whispered, just as we were about to set foot in the room.

Navan shot him a dirty look. “I will do whatever I feel comfortable with, Uncle,” he spat, “but I will never be a turncoat. I will not agree to something I do not believe in.”

“You are still so young, Navan.” Lazar sighed remorsefully. “There is so much you do not understand.”

Angry fire burned in the depths of Navan’s slate eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw, his shoulders squaring as if to strike. Stepping quickly beside Navan, pressing my palms gently to the firm rise of his chest, I looked up into his eyes and demanded that he look back. I would not be ignored, not now, not when there was so much we still needed to do. This was so much bigger than any family dispute. My blood was still whizzing its way toward Vysanthe, but we couldn’t even begin to think about chasing it down until we bartered our way out of this invisible compound.

Instantly, his features softened, the flames dying down in his glowering gaze. Feeling the rapid beat of his pulse begin to slow beneath my palms, I watched as he lifted his gaze away from mine and back to Lazar for the briefest of moments.

“No, Uncle, it is you who does not understand,” he said in a low voice. “There is never an excuse for this.”

With that, he placed his hand on the small of my back and ushered me into the office to greet the waiting stare of Orion. As I had imagined he would be, he was standing behind the desk, his stature just as imposing as it had been the last time we’d met.

I turned back to glance at Lazar. He was loitering at the threshold of the door, his hazel eyes peering toward Orion with an almost eager look in them.