The approach to the Presidential Palace was quite different from the last time. Braph had hired a steam carriage this time and, rather than being accompanied by his brother and the Syaenuk he’d traded for Orinia, he had his son Orin, nephew Joelin, the babe recently birthed by Orinia, and Maura his housemaid to help with the younger children. Orinia remained at home. Best not to risk the state reclaiming her, especially after her daughter’s escape. The babe they could have, but Orinia would not be taken again.

  Orin stepped from the carriage and walked with a confidence fitting a boy whose very being carried immense power. Joelin cried and kept trying to sit, or lie, but Maura kept a firm grip on him with one hand while she carried the now-crying babe in the other. Braph would not miss them.

  Spring sun flared off the rounded, bulbous red roof and gave the white walls a golden warmth. Few guards stood atop the walls surrounding the estate; and those that did either chatted or stood at ease. This time there was no Immortal hells-bent on ridding the world of Aenuks. This time, Braph’s approach was unthreatened and not openly unwelcome. He had an appointment, after all. Colonel Salmon – Salmen – was not at the gate. Another man stepped forward.

  “Braph Vastergaard?”

  “The very one.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Braph gave a very proper nod. “And my son. Kadesh wishes to meet him.”

  “Yes.” The guard gave a stiff nod in return. “President Carlile is eager for you both to present yourselves.” He scowled and his gaze flicked between the rest of Braph’s entourage.

  “The Aenuk, possibly Syaenuk, babe.” Braph nodded to Maura and flicked his head towards the guard.

  Tears trickled from the woman’s eyes, but she stepped forward and held the babe for the guard to receive. The guard took the child gingerly and swiftly passed it to another guard. That guard opened the gate enough for him to slip through and let it close behind him.

  A sob burst from Maura.

  “I told you not to get attached,” Braph murmured to the woman, then turned back to the guard while holding out a hand to take Joelin’s. “And I have brought the president a gift. My nephew.” The toddler lay on his back crying intermittently, between taking an interest in the goings on and checking to be sure someone was paying attention.

  The guard – showing no sign of joining the dots between Braph and Joelin – appeared doubtful of the president’s interest.

  Maura stooped and hefted the child to standing and brought his hand up for Braph to grasp, murmuring reassuring platitudes to the child that Braph suspected were as much directed at herself. Braph closed his gloved flesh hand around Joelin’s wrist, and the toddler collapsed, trying to fall to the ground again. Having little patience for such behavior, Braph lifted Joelin by the wrist and swung him so he sat on Braph’s hip. The child continued to scream. Braph tolerated it only in his knowing he would be free of it soon. Though, with a thought and a dash of power, he temporarily deafened that one ear. Much better.

  Orin curled a lip at the toddler.

  Braph looked over his shoulder at Maura. Tears wet her cheeks, and she cupped her chin in her hands.

  “You may go,” Braph said. One of Maura’s hands left her chin, as if she were going to reach out to Joelin, but she pulled it back and turned to go. Braph had sent the steam carriage away. She would have plenty of time to get to grips with reality on the walk home.

  He turned back to the guard, who had still not opened the gate.

  “Believe me,” Braph said. “The president will like it.”

  The guard lifted an eyebrow.

  “I have an appointment,” Braph reiterated.

  The guard gave him a long look, then opened the gate wide enough for Braph and the children to make their way through single file. “Go to the main entrance and the house guard will show you the way.”

  Braph waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he sauntered up the path. He knew where Kadesh’s – President Kadeshbarnea Carlile’s – office was. He needed no guide. Still, he supposed letting people do their jobs was the polite thing to do, and if there was one thing that distinguished men of status from riffraff, it was their tolerance for insufferable propriety. And so, Braph allowed the self-important house guard to lead the way and announce their arrival.

  Mercifully, Joelin was too fascinated by his surroundings to continue his tantrum.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  As previously, a guard stood to either side of the door inside the room, their backs to the wall.

  “Mister Vastergaard.” Kadesh stood from behind his elegant desk and offered a hand. Then, before they were even within hand-grasping reach, continued with a laugh, “Now that’s something to get used to. Such a Quaven name. How odd to utter it inside Turhmos without an ounce of disdain.”

  “Well, I’d rather you call me Braph. Vastergaard could just as easily refer to my brother, whom I am not.” Braph stretched his lips in a false smile as their hands touched; Braph’s metal and gloved, the president’s flesh and bare. While Kadesh chose not to comment on lack of propriety, he grasped Braph’s elbow with his other hand. And while Braph allowed his eyes to flare with his outrage, his smile didn’t falter, and he suffered the other man’s show of dominance without retaliation. This wasn’t the time.

  “You brought your son, and—?” Kadesh looked from one child to the other.

  Braph let Joelin slide to the floor. The toddler stood, looking about the room from beneath a suspicious brow.

  Braph guided Orin to stand directly in front of him and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “This is my son, Orin. And that—” He waved his gloved, mechanical hand at Joelin. “—is my nephew.”

  “Your nephew? So, his father is—?”

  Braph nodded. “He is the son of Jonas and a Syakaran woman. He is one hundred per cent Syakaran, guaranteed. You are welcome to him, for what purpose I have little care. But if Turhmos decides against keeping their own pet Syakaran, I suspect he would be worth something to Quaver. Well, for a little while longer.”

  “And your brother.” Kadesh stated flatly.

  “Powerless, as you are aware. He is of no threat to you.”

  “Still, he must want the child back.”

  Braph shrugged dismissively. Whether he wanted the child or not had no bearing on whether Jonas could get him back.

  Kadesh pondered Joelin, who stood with a dark scowl on his face. His resemblance to his father at that moment was absolute.

  “He should come into his full Syakaran strength and speed in his later childhood, gaining both incrementally from around seven,” Braph said. “By the time he reaches his adolescence you will want to have assured his loyalty.”

  Doubt twitched Kadesh’s features. Subduing and keeping Aenuks was a lesser challenge. Turhmos might have several years to develop security measures to keep a Syakaran under control, but Braph still considered behavioral measures more effective when you were physically under-powered. He’d learned much by observing Aris’s control over Jonas over the years.

  “Raise the boy as your own, and in a few years, you’ll have a super talented soldier. A bodyguard, deeply loyal to you alone.”

  There it was. Kadesh now looked upon Joelin with a hunger to harness that power for himself.

  “I accept.” Kadesh signaled a guard, who stepped forward to remove the toddler from the room.

  As soon as his feet left the ground, Joelin wailed. The noise reverberated around the hallways as he disappeared. Braph would not miss that.

  Kadesh returned his attention to Braph. “A fine gift, indeed,” he said, his expression guarded. “You have been busy. Now I see why it took so long to reply to my invitation.”

  Braph shrugged. His main reason had been to show that he could. Petty, perhaps. But satisfying.

  “And you did give me my show.” Kadesh stepped back, waving his hands wide to encapsulate an imaginary version of the spectacular showdown featuring The Great Syakaran of Quaver versus Turhmos’s best. “I must thank you for that.” Kadesh failed to make his smile genuine, but Braph forgave him. He appreciated Kadesh was trying, and accepted he was no adept at false rapport himself. It hardly seemed fair to expect it in others.

  While the invitation to this meeting had been cordial, Braph had little doubt Kadesh didn’t know what box to put Braph in: friend, foe, or nuisance. Braph had lived in Turhmos for many years without calling attention to himself, but somehow word of Orinia’s existence had leaked and they’d come for her. He had kept developing his designs without her, thriving on the relative anonymity he found in this country, but when Turhmos believed he was keeping knowledge from them, they took his arm with his magic device on it. While Braph was certainly miffed at that, it wasn’t exactly easy to uplift his entire household and all his contraptions within. He would rather develop a professional relationship than be at war with the country in which he had chosen to live. Besides, his new hand was officially better than his old, and he would never have considered constructing it if it hadn’t been for the swift strike of Colonel Salmen’s cleaver.

  “Unfortunately,” Kadesh continued, “I cannot gage what impact, if any, there might be on the upcoming election. The people are confused, and, at this time, I am unable to offer clarity. Luckily for me, neither can my opponents. And now everyone is aware the Syakaran was powerless.”

  “Men still died at his hands.”

  “Yes.” Kadesh glanced away, his first sign of uncertainty – weakness. “There is that. But I’m afraid that doesn’t exactly provide our people a show of strength.”

  “But their bravery was unrivaled.”

  “Hmm.” Kadesh didn’t sound convinced.