Page 96 of Between Imminent Fates

Having landed on the first floor, he silently called each of the lieutenants into the living room. Jaeda and Rukia appeared behind him, the healer holding Isaiah’s mate close. The Elemental’s eyes flicked between him and the stairs, and he could sense the nervous anxiety that pinged through her, courtesy of their clan bond.

A quick conversation with Nero proved similarly fruitless, further souring Derikles’ mood. It was a good thing that every person he trusted was standing before him.

“We need to talk about Isaiah.”

Immediately, none of them could meet his gaze. Even Jaeda, who’d attempted to be strong for him, found more interest in the knitted blanket on the couch.

“He’s getting worse, and showing signs of deterioration,” Derikles explained. “Nothing we’ve done is working.”

“He needs more time,” Rukia argued. “He’ll get better soon.”

“He won’t, Rukia.”

The truth hurt her, and while he’d spoken it softly, she still crumpled onto the couch behind her. Beside her, Sia’s arm came around her shoulders and his sovereign’s mate disappeared into her protective hold.

“I’ve amped him every day since he fell,” Derikles explained. “He’s retained none of that energy. Every time I go back in there the following day, it’s as though what I did the previous day was poured through a sieve. Nero found this before—in the archives. Once the mind is static, there’s no coming back.”

“But those archived texts are centuries old, Derikles, if not millennia.” Jaeda shook her head. “Things have changed since then, and the healing arts have advanced. If what we’re doing now gives him a better shot at recovering, then shouldn’t we give him every chance?”

“He’s lost a massive amount of weight, and his heart is barely functioning. No matter how many times we try a gastric tube, it’s never enough. We’ve all attempted to reach him, and nothing has helped.” Derikles resisted the urge to grimace. “I’m beginning to think that what the archives say is true: that there won’t be any recovery, regardless of what we do. It’s better to cede to his wishes, Rukia.”

“No.”

Rukia’s tenacity, something he’d always admired, came barreling back into the limelight as she jolted upright, fighting for her mate. Isaiah’s condition was breaking all of them.

“No. There has to be something else we can do.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Jaeda said. “He’s always come out of recoil so quickly.”

“We’ve done everything we can for him.”

“Except give him time. I saidno, Derikles,” Rukia snarled. “I don’t care that you’ve taken his position. I don’t care that you’re five hundred years older than I am. Isaiah ismine, not yours! I’ll take him away from all of you if I see another act like the one I stopped today.”

“And you’d let him wither away to nothing?” Across from him, Rukia flinched, a chink in her exterior that he’d keep chipping away at should it prove necessary. “Key is in the same boat. The only thing that’s made Nina keep from falling into the same issue is that she’s vampire, and they’ve given her blood transfusions.”

“I don’t care if it takes another week, another month, or another year. There’s always hope so long as his heart beats.” Rukia inclined her chin. “You can leave my home now, Derikles.”

Failure.That’s what this felt like. He was failing to take Isaiah’s place and lead his people, and failing to see to the mate and family his sovereign had left behind. None of the lieutenants came to his aid—not that he expected them too. It was still disheartening.

He stood, taking in the despondency on the faces that surrounded him. “It’s your home, and he’s your mate, Rukia. I’m trying to do what he wanted. What he entrusted to me.”

The fierceness of her expression softened. “I know. This isn’t about you, Derikles. I simply want to give my mate every chance to come back.”

He stepped out into the darkness that covered every inch of clan land, and he couldn’t help but find it fitting. Shadows had begun to blot out the light of hope.

Collapsing in his favorite armchair at home, he pinched the bridge of his nose. For the first time since Isaiah had fallen unconscious, Derikles had forgotten to Amp his sovereign—and that wouldn’t do. Instead of returning to the home he’d just been banished from, he closed his eyes and reached out along their clan bond.

What’d once been his brilliantly shining star was now little more than a spark. Engaging his Amp ability, he funneled his energy into the man on the other end. This connection would channel directly into the well of Isaiah’s power instead of syphoning on the physical plane. With any luck, they would both accomplish the same goal, like writing and speaking would both communicate the same message.

As Derikles forced the energy into his former sovereign, he watched closely to confirm it transferred well through this impromptu method.

What happened surprised him.

Isaiah’s psychic signature within the neural net drank at the transfer and immediately displayed a larger charge. The flickering spark grew to a fledgling flame. Though it was nowhere near his former glory, there was no denying that the energy he’d transferred had had a unique impact.

He funneled his energy into Isaiah until he approached his own limit. The hope that had abandoned him came flooding back.

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