"No," Amara said softly. "Felix is planning to devour the Ether Core from Agaron."
For a moment, Arik wondered if he had lost his mind.
Or his hearing.
Or if he was having some delayed reaction to having several lifetimes shoved through his skull in a diplomatic waiting room.
He shook his head once, the way a man might try to clear blurred vision.
No.
Amara was still there.
Old. Nearly blind now from the milky film over her pale irises. Her hands were trembling in her lap, and the lines in her face were too deep for a dominant omega who should have had centuries left in her bones.
Arik laughed.
Because there was no other appropriate response to that level of insanity.
The sound came out low at first. Then sharper. Colder. It filled the small waiting room and made the ether lamps flicker once along the walls.
Amara did not smile.
She only watched him.
