Torkel snorted. “I think you’re forgetting I’m not the one in the cell.”
Laughing outright at the obvious, Nikol shrugged, then dragged both legs back up on the bed, stretched out and placed his hands behind his head. “Guess I’ll take a nap until its time for me to go free. Have no doubt, I won’t be here long.”
There was a pause of silence from Torkel. Nikol’s heart slammed against his chest as he closed his eyes and feigned falling asleep.
“How do I even know I can trust the answers you give me?”
Irrational laughter threatened to burst from Nikol’s chest, but now wasn’t the time or place to let his fury show. Aloud he said with deliberate nonchalance, “I guess you’ll have to take the chance.”
“I’m not sure what you think will come of this but I’m willing to consider your questions. I make no promises that I will answer them.”
Relieved, Nikol sat back up with a chuckle. “I knew I liked you, Jutak.”
Torkel’s nostrils flared and the resemblance to Lothar in a fit was so strong, Nikol almost stumbled in his resolve. Shutting down the emotional response, he focused on the moment. “Excellent. Reasonable as only a military person can be.”
“Ask your question, Niko. Or should I say Nikol?” Torkel’s gaze narrowed. “We don’t have any official confirmation on your name.”
“That would count as a question, but I’ll answer anyway. I am Nikol Wulven. Son of Lothar, as I’m sure you already know.”
Satisfaction flared in the brown eyes. Torkel leaned forward. “You are admitting that you are the son of the wanted criminal Lothar?”
“That’s another question and it’s my turn.”
A muscle flexed in Torkel’s jaw before he inclined his head. “Fair enough. Ask your question.”
Honorable. Those rumors seemed to be true. There was one question Nikol needed to ask. “What does it feel like to be Marenian born yet raised among people who aren’t your own? Was it hard?”
Tension rode Nikol’s shoulders. On the surface, it would appear as curiosity but the answer was more important than anything else he could ask. He needed to know what growing up on Enotian had been like for the young soldier.
“An unusual start.” Torkel stared as if trying to read beyond the words before shrugging. “Life was and is good for me here. My parents love me and don’t care about my birth heritage.”
Pleased beyond measure, Nikol exhaled softly. “And your horns...defect or deliberate?”
The corner of Torkel’s lips tipped up. “Two questions. Unlike you, I’ll answer. Deliberate. My maman wanted to help me blend among the Enotians. I’m Marenian, but only by blood and a circumstance of birth. I choose how I want to live and will pick honor and doing what’s right every time.”
Smug bastard. A slow coil of anger unraveled within Nikol. He curled his fingers into fists at his side. “How nice for you.”
Torkel ignored the taunt and asked, “Are you my brother? Is Lothar my birth papan?”
Unexpected. The Jutak surprised him with his directness. Nikol shored his defenses and masked any reaction to the question. It was rare that anyone caught him off-guard.
***
The bland look didn’t fool Torkel. His question had enraged the Marenian. Why he didn’t know. He studied Nikol’s face, reluctantly acknowledging the resemblance between them. Blood test had already given Torkel the answer but he needed the man across from him to validate it.
“Here’s what I know about one Torkel Alonson. Your parents are Shaya and Marlin Alonson. Adopted as a baby. You have one sibling. A female. The sister is named Lissi, mother of two and bonded to another soldier. No records on the name of that soldier could be found.” Nikol tipped his head in admiration. “Well done on the last.”
Unsure of what he meant with the dry recital, Torkel took a step closer. Although he hadn’t mentioned Faye and Shiloh as far as he was concerned, it was a perceived threat. “Are you threatening my family by telling me all this?”
Nikol shifted and braced his back on the wall behind him. “Now why would I do that? We’re just asking one another questions.”
“Which you didn’t answer,” Torkel pointed out, sensing he was being toyed with.
“What would it matter? Is knowing the truth that important to you? What if your precious military took umbrage at the knowledge?”
The knowledge was shared with his Commander years ago. Torkel breathed through his mouth. Calm. He had to stay calm though the Marenian was pulling at a long buried anger he didn’t know he still had. “Answer or this is over.”
Nikol’s lips twisted, his expression hardening. “Yes.”
The tight clamp on his chest loosened. He had known. This wasn’t news and yet he had a firm answer. The male standing across from him was his brother. “Do you know how I ended up on Enotia?”
“Wow, you’re really not good at this at all. That’s two questions and unlike you,” Nikol pursed his lips, “I prefer to follow the rules.”
Nikol stood and walked across the small space, drawing close to Torkel. “Why do you care? You have your precious good life. You fight for...justice. Does how you came to be here matter at this point?”
Torkel shifted his weight on his feet. There was a deeper meaning, something he was missing in the question. Instead of reacting with anger to the contemptuous tone, an impulse he couldn’t explain had him answering honestly, “It doesn’t matter.”
He was who he was because his parents had raised him to be a strong and honorable male. He was a Jutak warrior to his core.
Something flashed in Nikol’s brown gaze so similar to his own. The Marenian folded his arms over his broad chest. “Then why waste time asking?”
It was a rhetorical question so Torkel shifted gears. “Why were you on CV-8?”
Nikol shrugged. “A simple matter for my father. One that in hindsight had dire consequences.”
Which he apparently found humor in. Torkel didn’t understand the irreverence. “At what point will those on your world realize that your actions will not go unaddressed?”
The corner of Nikol’s mouth hitched up. “Our world, don’t you mean?”
Stiffening from the blatant truth, Torkel studied the indolent figure across from him. Against his will he admitted silently to the resemblance between them. They both had the bulky build of Marenians, wide chest and broad shoulders.
Nikol’s hair was as black as midnight while Torkel’s was a deep brown. It was most evident in their facial features. The slope of their foreheads, the wide nose and curve of the jaw. If Torkel had horns, they’d be close images of one another.
He cleared his throat. “It’s not my world.”
“Funny, I recall differently. It’s the place you were bred. Where your family called home.”
Torkel’s stomach knotted. Bred because Marenians supported a slave culture for their women. “Enotia is home.”
Of that he had no doubt. His parents found him abandoned as a baby and took him in. It was the only family he’d acknowledge.
Nikol shrugged. “If that’s what you choose to believe.”
“It’s the only home that matters.”