Page 84 of Dark Rebel's Fortune

"I teach archaeology."

That caught her by surprise. "Get out of here. Archaeology? I didn't peg you for a scholar."

"What did you peg me for, then?" There was an edge of amusement in his question.

Fenella considered it. "I don't know. Something more technical, perhaps? Security work, computers, or engineering."

"When you've got endless time, you can try out all kinds of things. Archeology has been my latest obsession. I fell into it by accident—I started taking night classes to pass the time and found I had a knack for it. There's something satisfying about piecingtogether the past." He paused. "Plus, teaching in the university has other benefits. Lots of pretty lasses who fancy a young-looking professor."

Fenella laughed. "Naughty, naughty, Din. You shouldn't play with your students."

"Never from my department. But others, well…"

Maybe that's how he'd become more friendly and confident.

"Speaking of archeology, there's this exhibition in the glass pavilion here—artifacts and such. Somebody's personal collection. Quite impressive, actually."

"Aye, I've seen it. Kalugal rotates the displays regularly. He's got a storage facility in the underground with countless items that he's collected over the years."

Fenella sat up straighter. "Is that the bloke who owns the plane that got us to California?"

"That's him."

"I didn't know that there was so much money in archeology."

Din chuckled. "There isn't unless you steal and sell artifacts. Kalugal steals them, but he never sells them. He's a collector. He makes his money from all kinds of shady businesses."

An idea occurred to her. "You should talk to him. If he has a lot of money to throw around, you could interest him in a dig, and he could finance it."

There was a pause long enough that Fenella wondered if the connection had dropped.

"I've never considered it," Din said finally. "I don't know Kalugal well, and he's... well, he's a former Doomer. Makes me uneasy, to be honest."

Fenella felt her brows shoot upward. "A Doomer? Here in the village?" Her hand instinctively went to her throat, the memory of Durhad still inducing a flare of panic. "I thought they were the clan's enemy."

"They are," Din said. "But Kalugal's different. He collected others like him, and they escaped from the Brotherhood. It was a long time ago, and he's been living a semi-legit life."

"What is he doing here, though? Why was he accepted?" Fenella couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice. "I understand maybe not going after him because he wasn't harming anyone. But this is too much."

"There's more to the story, and I don't want to get into details, but the bottom line is that none of Kalugal's men ever believed in Navuh's hateful ideology, which was why they escaped. They are immortal, they have military training, and they are bound by an unbreakable treaty to defend the village. The alliance makes us stronger."

Fenella digested this information. The world wasn't black and white, she knew that, but after what she'd been through, it was difficult to think about anyone and anything connected to the Brotherhood as not pure evil.

"I met a Doomer," she said. "He wasn't the redemption-worthy type."

"I know," Din said quietly. "I'm so sorry about what you've been through."

Fenella swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. "Yeah, well. I survived."

"You always do," Din said. "It's one of the things I admire about you."

Something in his tone made her uncomfortable—the weight of his regard, the implication that he had spent decades thinking about her, forming an image of who she was based on a handful of interactions.

"You don't know me, Din," she said. "You didn't know me then, and you know me even less now. I'm not the same girl you remember from that pub."

"I know that," he said, his voice steady. "I'm excited to get to know you as you are now."

She rolled her eyes. "Why carry a torch for fifty bloody years based on what—a few smiles across a bar?"

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