Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I t didn't take Nikolett and the rest of Vadisk's territory long to figure out Sinaver's whole life story.

Vadisk's phone rang shortly before eleven p.m.

He was still smiling and satisfied after his orgasm by the pool, but his brain snapped back to work mode when he answered the call and heard his admiral say, "The mother is still alive."

"Hold on, let me get my trinity." He rose from the bed, glancing around the room then helping himself to a pair of Montana's boxers.

Nikolett's slow, controlled inhale was audible, her unspoken feelings about the trinity contained to that single breath.

She was still pissed that Eric had placed him in a marriage despite her protests. He'd pointed out that if she'd told the fleet admiral more of what was going on in Hungary, he might have changed his mind, but she'd refused. Normally, the fleet admiral only approved matches, rarely making them, though the last fleet admiral had married the current admiral of England to his trinity in a spur-of-the-moment decision right before he died.

Nikolett and the fleet admiral were either going to kill each other or fuck.

Except they had fucked. Maybe.

Vadisk had tried to shoulder past the head of the Spartan Guard that night a year ago in Dublin, to see what was happening in the bedroom and do what he could to protect Nikolett, but Regina had two other guards hold him back. Eric's snarled command to shut the door had certainly made it sound like they'd been in the middle of something. But neither of them had looked happy afterward.

And then they had another run-in six months ago, and once again, Vadisk had no idea what had happened between Eric and Nikolett because Nikolett hadn't said anything afterward.

Nikolett had been even more closed down after that Trinity Council meeting in Dublin, and he'd been so freaked out about his marriage he hadn't pushed her to tell him what happened. He knew other things took place in that meeting, and that his marriage wasn't the only decision made.

Maybe it wasn't the only marriage that had been arranged.

Vadisk held his phone away from his mouth and called out, "Montana, Dahlia."

Dahlia emerged from the bathroom, wearing pajamas. Montana jogged down the hall, three bottles of water in hand, his gaze sweeping the bedroom as he entered. They'd all briefly fallen asleep but woken up when Dahlia climbed out of bed to go to the bathroom, managing to elbow and kick both of them, since she couldn't see where she was going. Vadisk ended up grabbing her and lifting her off the bed while Montana got up to turn on the lights.

Dahlia rejoined Vadisk on the bed, Montana joining them a moment later and passing out water.

Vadisk held the phone up to them, letting them see Nikolett's name on the screen.

"Wait, let's go to the living room," Dahlia said quickly.

The three of them quickly walked out of the primary bedroom to the living room. Montana was calm and ready, Dahlia tense and wary.

"Can we switch to English?" Vadisk asked Nikolett in Ukrainian as he finally put his phone back to his ear.

"Are you putting me on speaker with your…trinity?"

"Yes."

Nikolett cleared her throat, then said in English, "I have information for you."

Vadisk set it to speakerphone, holding his phone flat on his palm.

"Antonia Abduramanov, mother of Sinaver Abduramanov, is alive and living in a memory care facility in Switzerland."

They took a moment to process that information.

"A memory care facility in Switzerland sounds expensive," Dahlia said slowly.

"It is. But money has almost never been a problem for Antonia and Sinaver Abduramanov."

Montana gave Vadisk's shoulder a little push, and he sat on the couch, Dahlia beside him and Montana perched on the table, leaning in.

"He said his mother didn't have to worry about money," Vadisk said. "But that could have been pride talking."

"It wasn't. She lived in Krym, in the same house she grew up in, for years, with no discernible income. That's not impossible—she could have been bartering or operating with cash—but there are electronic financial records, so it wasn't that she had cash under a floorboard. Sinaver went to university in Moscow, and while tuition was free, he lived well while he was there. Expensive apartment, fine dining, clubs."

"The blackmail was their income. And a good income." Dahlia squeezed Montana's hand.

"We already assumed he was our guy," Montana said. "Sounds like all the evidence supports that."

"But it's not proof," Nikolett said.

"You're right…" Montana looked at Vadisk, eyes wide in question.

Too bad Vadisk had no idea what he was asking.

"You're right…Admiral," Montana finished, grimacing as if he was unsure of what he'd just said.

There was a beat of silence before Nikolett spoke again. "However, we have something that, while not exactly proof, is certainly damning. Mr. Kingston, did the blackmail payment amounts remain the same?"

"No, and honestly, I'm surprised they didn't constantly go up. From what I could see, they increased once about twenty-five years ago."

"And how were the blackmail payments made?"

"At first, they were traveler's checks. He must have physically mailed them, which is insane. Later, it was a wire, and then finally, along with the demand increase, the payment method switched to a bank transfer."

"What bank?"

"A…" Montana sat back, shaking his head. "A Swiss bank."

"A lot of people use Swiss banks," Vadisk countered. "It could be a coincidence that the mother is in Switzerland."

"Here's what I think happened," Nikolett said. "Approximately thirty years ago, Antonia started showing symptoms of deteriorating mental state, to the point that it was reported in the local paper when she was found wandering in the forest, crying and saying she couldn't remember her way home.

"Twenty-nine years ago, Antonia moved to Switzerland presumably for treatment, and when that was unsuccessful was transferred to the long-term care side of the treatment center. And, depending on exact dates, a year after that, the blackmail demand was raised."

"He ran out of money, or was about to, and the only way to keep his mother there was to get more money from Montana's family," Dahlia said.

"Yes." Vadisk heard the familiar squeak of Nikolett's office chair as she moved.

"But the cost to keep her there must have gone up too," Montana said. "So why weren't there multiple increases over the years? I mean, at the end, each payment wasn't actually all that much, thanks to inflation. Altogether, it was an obscene amount of money, but it could have been more."

"I wondered about that," a new voice said.

"Grigoris," Vadisk said with a smile. "Nyx there too?"

"No," Nyx said faintly, clearly somewhere in the room.

Vadisk looked at Dahlia and Montana. "Grigoris Violaris is the security minister of Hungary. Nyx Kata is the vice admiral."

They both nodded, clearly having paid attention when he talked about the Masters' Admiralty structure. Paid attention like it was important information they needed.

And Montana had used Nikolett's title. He was probably just being polite and it didn't mean anything, but it felt like proof that Montana was willing to become a member of his territory.

"Who's your guard?" Vadisk asked, deviating from the main topic for a moment.

The people on the other end of the phone knew exactly what he was talking about—who had taken his place as the admiral's main bodyguard. Their silence made him grimace, but he no longer felt angry and anxious at the idea of not being there. He had a trinity, and their safety and protection were now, and would be until the day he died, his primary focus.

Vadisk was surprised by his own thoughts, at the shift in his priorities. He'd thought it would take longer, since technically he'd only know his spouses five days.

"We're still rotating," Grigoris said. "Maxim was needed to execute his knight duties, so for now, I'm staying with the admiral."

But Grigoris was married, and Nyx would always come first. If he had to save someone from a burning building, it would be his wife, not Nikolett. Nikolett needed someone who would put her first, especially with what had been going on recently.

Dahlia was giving him an odd look, so Vadisk shook his head and got back on track. "We were talking about money."

"It looks like Sinaver made friends with some very wealthy people while he was at university. While we don't know exactly what is or was happening with the money since Swiss banks are impossible to hack, we do know that the bank he chose has an investment arm, and several of Sinaver's school friends invest heavily there."

"So Sinaver learned how to use money to make money." Dahlia had her thinking face on. "If I were him, suddenly faced with the reality that my mother wasn't going to get better and needing a way to pay for her care, I'd have increased my blackmail demands. But what if that pushed the victim too far and they stopped paying?"

"He probably needed an immediate increase to match whatever her care cost, so he increased the demand once he realized his mother wasn't coming home." Montana's jaw clenched for a moment. "He knew enough to think long-term too, so he got help from his college buddies and invested some money, enough so the money made more money. Enough to keep his mother safe. And yet, he kept making my family pay."

Vadisk reached out and gripped Montana's clenched fist. Montana twisted his wrist, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

"This wouldn't be enough to convict him of blackmail in court," Nikolett said. "But we're not a court of law."

"Sinaver is the blackmailer," Vadisk declared. He really wished that was enough. That having identified the man, they could get the hell out of here. But the blackmailer's identity was only one part of their mission, and not the important part.

"Is there any record of the Abduramanov family associating with the Masters' Admiralty?" Vadisk asked. "A great-great-grandpa?"

"Nothing that we can find, and we asked the archivist too."

"I've been thinking about this," Dahlia said. "And I think Sinaver only found out recently. About the Masters' Admiralty, I mean."

"Why?" Nyx asked.

"I've never been blackmailed?—"

Montana mouthed "yet" and shot an exaggerated knowing look at the window. Dahlia's lips twitched but she kept going.

"—however, I have run into people who take bribes, and they never do it just once."

"We know he blackmailed multiple people," Nyx said, sounding closer to the phone now.

"Yes, but the switch from blackmailing individuals to blackmailing the whole society was recent, correct?"

"It was," Nikolett said.

"It's unlikely that the trinity from Ottoman was the first to say no," Dahlia continued. "But this was the first time he had an option to go to someone else with the same pictures."

"Saying the knowledge is recent narrows it down, but doesn't answer the question," Nikolett pointed out.

There was a moment of silence as they contemplated that.

"Ottoman?" Vadisk asked.

"They're doing a complete security audit of the territory membership, and so far have found nothing," Nikolett said.

"The janissaries are out for blood," Grigoris added quietly. He'd been a janissary in Ottoman before his marriage to Nyx, after which they'd moved to Hungary to help Nikolett rebuild.

"The fleet admiral's blood for suggesting they have a traitor in their territory, or the blood of the hypothetical traitor feeding Sinaver information?" Vadisk asked.

"Both."

There was a short silence.

"We know who the blackmailer is," Dahlia summed up. "But we still need to find out how he's identifying members. And to do that, we either have to extract that information by questioning him or breaking into his house and searching his office."

Vadisk's entire body twitched in horror at the idea. "Or, we wait until we're blackmailed, refuse to pay, and, using Montana's phone mirroring thing, we see who he calls to ask if we're members."

Montana was shaking his head in warning. "Remember, the phone mirroring isn't indefinite. It could click off at any time." He frowned, looking at the ceiling. "Maybe if I set up a relay…"

"We need to speed this up," Vadisk declared, thinking they might need another sex around the pool display. Except he didn't want their first time with penetrative sex to be for an audience.

"We could leave early," Dahlia added. "If he's waiting until we're home, we cut the trip short. Once we're sure he's gotten something blackmail worthy."

"I keep checking," Montana said. "He's probably not out there watching us himself, which means, someone is going to send him those photos, hopefully via message or the email address he has on the phone."

"Then you stay for now and keep trying to provoke the blackmail, but don't take unnecessary risks," Nikolett ordered.

"Yes, Admiral," Vadisk said.

"Yes, Admiral," Montana and Dahlia echoed.

There was another beat of silence before Grigoris took over the call. "Before you hang up, I want to go over the backup exit plan one more time."

Their plan was to exit the same way they'd entered—on a private plane, with all paperwork in place and every hoop of bureaucracy jumped. Calm. Simple.

Vadisk rose, walking away and switching to Hungarian to talk to Grigoris. If it got to the point of them needing another exit, this insane escape plan, it would mean everything had gone to shit. No need to freak his husband and wife out with the details unless it was entirely necessary.

Nikolett eased back in her chair once Vadisk was off the line, finally letting herself grimace. It hadn't been a video call, but she'd been worried Vadisk would hear pain in her voice if she didn't keep her expression neutral. He knew her too well, and if she'd so much as winced, he might have heard it. Vadisk was the first harco she'd recruited, and he'd been acting as her bodyguard for years, which meant, they'd spent a lot of time together.

A bodyguard had been necessary this past year, ever since the snake.

And yet, the snake was tame in comparison to the assassination attempts she'd lived through recently. Today's was particularly gruesome, though not lethal.

Elena, sitting cross-legged on the floor by Nikolett's chair, cocked her head to the side. "You didn't tell Vadisk that I'm with you acting as your bodyguard? I'm hurt, Admiral."

Nikolett eyed her balefully, but since Elena's hands were applying pressure to the field-dressed wounds on her leg, she didn't say anything. Elena had spent the entire phone call like that—sitting on the floor as Nikolett sat side-on to her desk with one leg elevated. Nyx was acting as doctor's assistant, standing by the large rolling medical cart that was now a permanent fixture in Nikolett's office, and waiting for Elena's next instructions.

Now that the call to Vadisk was over, Grigoris slid out of the room, his face set in grim lines as he went to help the rest of the security officers try to figure out who had set the bear trap in Nikolett's small garden.

A bear trap.

Nikolett swallowed hard against the memory of feeling like she was stepping on something, followed by a metal click, and then a horrible pressure and pain. The agony was so blinding, she was fairly certain she'd passed out at least briefly. But the trap hadn't snapped her leg bone, which was good.

"I want to unwrap it and see if we're ready for sutures." Elena's voice flipped from conversational to the firm, authoritative medical tone that seemed too big and commanding for the woman's small frame.

Nyx, wearing a paper surgical gown and cap, snapped on a fresh set of gloves and started opening shallow drawers in the medical cart. "Are we going to argue about pain relief today?" She cocked a brow at Nikolett, who shot Nyx the same baleful look she'd given Elena.

"No, I won't object."

Nyx walked over with a syringe, Nikolett propped her elbow on her desk, and Nyx stabbed her upper arm with the needle. It burned when injected.

"This may sting," Nyx said after the fact.

Nikolett narrowed her eyes at the woman.

"I'll put an IV in once we're done here," Elena said as she peaked under the gauze pads on either side of Nikolett's leg. "Nyx, I need her up on the table, and I'll need the lidocaine."

Nyx quickly removed the few things on Nikolett's desk.

She used to have a cute desk. Now she had a massive, sturdy wood desk that could double as an exam table. Nyx laid down sterile drapes, then steadied Nikolett as she rose from the chair, balancing on one foot while Elena held the other leg with a firm grip around her calf. Nikolett sucked in air as her leg started to throb.

"I can lift her." Grigoris had returned and was standing out of the way, wearing the same loose surgical robe as the others.

"I'm fine." Nikolett eased herself up onto the desk, lying back as Elena and Nyx guided her legs onto the table.

Nyx returned to the rolling cart as Nikolett stared resolutely at the ceiling. She didn't want to see her leg. She wasn't normally squeamish, but this particular method of attack made her gorge rise. Frankly, she'd preferred being shot. Her left shoulder still gave her problems sometimes, but overall, that had been a much easier injury to deal with, the bullet having entered her torso just under the collarbone and exited her back after chipping her shoulder blade.

That particular assassination attempt had been about five months ago, and the first sign that their post-snake increased security measures were no longer working.

"Keep your knee bent."

Nikolett grabbed her thigh, tugging up so her knee was slightly bent. The shot must have been working because it didn't hurt to move her leg.

"This would be easier with an actual, fully equipped treatment suite."

For now, Nikolett's office, which had the best security of any room in her house, did double duty as an emergency room. They'd talked about converting a spare bedroom, or one of the storage rooms on the second floor, into a proper medical suite, but Grigoris and Vadisk hadn't wanted any construction workers in here until they knew who was trying to kill her.

"Maybe I'm trying to get drunk with cold water, but this doesn't seem that bad." Nikolett pointed at each of them in turn without looking away from the ceiling. "And anything I say while?—"

"—under the influence of painkillers is not to be repeated," Nyx finished for her, passing Elena a capped syringe of lidocaine.

In the past five months, Nikolett had needed far too much medical attention, and she'd learned that injectable and IV pain meds made her talkative and emotional.

She didn't wince at the first poke of the needle near one of the swollen cuts in her leg. Bit by bit, Elena numbed her leg, and it wasn't long before the admittedly gentle poking made Nikolett's leg throb, even with whatever it was Nyx had given her.

"I'd still feel better if we got a hospital X-ray," Elena said, though they all knew she was just making conversation.

"Walt Hayden's backpack X-ray is good, and good is better than great, if great means going to a hospital." Nikolett wouldn't be going to the hospital for treatment unless she was actively dying. Something like getting an X-ray wasn't worth the risk.

After she was poisoned—that had been a fun one too—they'd gone to the hospital for treatment and instead she'd nearly died. Luckily, as they raced to the hospital, a worried Vadisk had called in Elena, the only member of their territory who was both a doctor—in Elena's case, a surgeon—and lived in Budapest. He'd wanted someone else there whom he could trust to listen and assess the doctor's diagnosis and treatment plans.

The diagnosis had boiled down to, "We're pretty sure she's been poisoned, but can't tell you what she was poisoned with or how."

At first, Elena had seemed a little confused why she was there, since she wasn't a pathologist or hematologist, both of whom would have been more useful in a poisoning case. That was, until she caught sight of the medication name on the syringe a nurse was preparing to inject into Nikolett's IV.

It should have been an antihistamine but instead had been a high dose of blood pressure medication. Since Nikolett's blood pressure hadn't been high, the medicine would have tanked it, and might even have caused a stroke. While the hospital called it an error, they had to assume the mistaken medical order had been another attempt.

After that, Grigoris convinced Elena to quit her job and become a harco , though instead of helping enforce territory rules or conduct investigations, she was there to be in-house medical support. Knights were full-time employees of the territory, and Elena had at first objected, saying she was happy to help whenever she could, but surely Nikolett didn't need her full-time.

Two days later, Nikolett was shot, Elena did the repair surgery at a private hospital, and once Nikolett was discharged, Elena quit her job and took the knight's oath.

"Are you feeling anything as I clean the wounds?" Elena asked.

"Nope."

"Good."

"I wouldn't care that someone is trying to kill me," Nikolett told the ceiling.

"You really should care." Elena's voice was steady and slightly muffled by the surgical mask.

"I wouldn't care," she repeated, "except why is it always so…" Nikolett waved a hand dramatically in the air. "Like a cartoon. Poison and bear traps."

"I don't think it's like a cartoon," Nyx said. "The assassination methods feel…old. The snake. Poison. They're almost archaic. Except the shooting, that's a bit more modern."

Nikolett nodded. "My assassin might be a time traveler."

Nyx smiled. "I enjoy high Nikolett."

"Shuddup."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Okay, done with this side." Elena came to the top of the desk turned exam table, peering down at Nikolett. Nikolett smiled at her, and Elena shook her head before repositioning her uninjured leg so she could work on the inside of the wounded one.

"It might be time to ask for help again," Nyx said.

"I didn't ask for his help the first time." Nikolett swallowed hard. "And I told you that I can't talk to Eric anymore. Not after…"

A year ago, he'd summoned her to the Isle of Man. As a territory admiral, she had to go. While she was there, Maxim, the harco who'd traveled with her, had let it slip to the Spartan Guard that there'd been a venomous snake in her bed. Hearing that, Eric had…

She could still remember their conversation, almost word for word.

"Goddamn it, Nikolett, you're so vulnerable."

"I'm no more vulnerable than any other admirals."

"If the other admirals died, I'd be sad. If you died…"

"If I died, you'd help Hungary get a new admiral, but the world would keep turning."

"Mine wouldn't."

That should have been it. They should have declared their feelings for one another, figured out a way they could be together, given their positions, and picked a third.

Instead, Eric had made it clear that though he had feelings for her, she wasn't worth the risk.

She'd called him a coward for refusing to talk about their relationship, but when she left, he'd sent half the Spartan Guard with her. The Guard spent a week attacking her home, finding every possible weakness, and then helping Grigoris and his team to plug the security holes.

They thought it worked. Though they hadn't figured out who had put the adder in her bed, they'd figured out how it was done and patched the vulnerability that allowed someone to shut down her security system, including exterior cameras, for ten minutes without anyone realizing.

The last time she saw Eric, six months ago, she hadn't lied when she told him the improvements had worked and there'd been no further attacks. The attacks hadn't started until after she saw him.

A warm, floaty feeling rippled over her, and she smiled.

"Feeling good?" Nyx asked.

"I'm not thinking about how my leg was almost chopped off by a bear trap."

"What are you thinking about?" Nyx peered down at her, clearly curious.

"The last time I saw Eric." The memory was sharp, like broken glass, but that didn't stop her from dragging up the replay.

"At the Trinity Council?"

Nikolett stopped breathing. Technically, that was the last time she'd seen him, but she'd been thinking about what happened six months ago.

"No, I was thinking about before."

Nikolett was a champion compartmentalizer, and the instant she walked out of the library in Dublin, she'd boxed up what had happened and locked it away. If she thought about what he'd done in that meeting, the pain stole her breath, opening wounds deeper and more painful than any assassination attempt would ever be.

Because during the Trinity Council, the fleet admiral hadn't just chosen Vadisk's trinity—he'd also chosen Nikolett's.

She'd known he was planning to use the trinity marriage rule to destroy whatever it was they had. When he summoned her a year ago, she was sure it was to tell her she was being placed in a trinity. She'd taunted him about it, making sure he knew that if he forced her into a trinity, it was because he was scared of what they could have, and how strong their feelings were for one another.

In the year since that confrontation in Triskelion Castle, she'd mostly stopped worrying about him forcing her to marry. After what happened six months ago, she should have gone back to worrying about it. Instead, there had been a series of assassination attempts, investigations, and territory infrastructure projects that occupied her time.

Now he was forcing her to marry, and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it.

Nikolett had a brief reprieve before the actual marriage because one of her new husbands was going to be out of the country on Masters' Admiralty business for a while. But once he was back, her trinity would be summoned to the Isle of Man and married.

"Nikolett, what's hurting?" Nyx asked, voice a little too loud.

"What?" She blinked, focusing on her vice admiral.

"You're crying."

"Am I?" Nikolett touched her temple. Wet.

"I can numb it more." Elena reached for the capped lidocaine.

"No, it's fine, I don't feel it."

"Then what's wrong?" Nyx demanded.

Nikolett looked at her and knew she should say something. She'd told Grigoris and Nyx what happened at the Trinity Council meeting.

Everything except her impending marriage.

Grigoris had stepped out at some point, but now he stuck his head in, retreated for another moment, then returned wearing a fresh surgeon's gown, gloves, and a mask. Elena smiled at him for remembering the protocol.

Grigoris went first to Nyx, sliding an arm around her. For a moment, they molded together, becoming one, a single unit. The corners of Grigoris's eyes crinkled as he smiled down at his wife.

Nikolett looked away, envy making her throat tight.

"We know how they got the bear trap into the garden," Grigoris said. "It was placed by a drone."

"A drone? It was a heavy metal animal trap, how could a drone lift that?"

"It was a big drone. The type they're talking about using to deliver packages. It hovered high enough that our aerial cameras didn't see it, and then used what looks like a retractable line to lower the trap into the garden. We have video showing the trap being lowered, but it was fast, and the way the security system is programmed…"

Nikolett tried to listen, but that floaty feeling was making it hard.

She tuned back in when Nyx spoke. "Because the trap only appeared on camera for a few seconds, the security system identified it as a bird and didn't issue an alert?"

"Basically," Grigoris confirmed. "We're recalibrating it right now."

Nyx turned to Nikolett. "It's time to have the Spartan Guard come and test our defenses again."

Grigoris sighed but nodded. The fact that he couldn't figure out who was behind this was eating at him. Nikolett had accepted that her radical overhaul of the territory, which included dismantling the psychotic former admiral's various corrupt networks, had made her some enemies among her own people. Eventually, they'd find who was responsible. Hopefully Nikolett was still alive and had all four limbs when that happened.

Nyx rubbed Grigoris's arm, and he leaned into her touch, their faces turning toward one another, seeking and offering comfort.

"Grigoris, Nyx, step out please." The words were out before Nikolett could think them through.

They both whipped around, Grigoris's look assessing, while Nyx's was suspicious.

"Admiral, is something wrong?"

Yes. With her.

"I need to speak to Elena alone," she said.

Grigoris and Nyx exchanged a look once more before exiting the office.

"Are you hurt somewhere else?" Elena was still bent over her leg, hands moving in a practiced, rhythmic way as she sutured. "I told you, there's a reason they cut off clothes in an emergency room." Nikolett's pant leg was gone, thanks to Elena's deft work with scissors, but she'd put her foot down and stopped them from stripping her naked.

"No. I just needed them to go away." Some part of Nikolett winced at what she was saying, but she was tired, drugged, and…

And heartbroken.

"Uh, do you think…did one of them do it?" Elena's eyes were wide as she looked at Nikolett. "I know I'm a harco , but I don't think I can win a fight against either of them."

"No, you couldn't. Nyx fights dirty, and Grigoris is exactly as deadly as you think he is. But you don't have to because they didn't do this."

"Thank God," Elena breathed. "Then why did you need them to go away?"

"Because they're in love, and they're a couple."

Nikolett needed to shut up. She also needed to stop crying because now the hair at her temples was wet and one tear had even slid to her ear, tickling it. Scrubbing her face with her hands, she swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry," Elena said softly. "And I'm almost done. Once I get you into bed, I'll get that IV in. I want to hang fluids, and I'll give you something more for the pain. That will help you sleep too."

Hands still over her face, Nikolett nodded. Tomorrow, she'd be back to normal. Tomorrow, she'd be able to compartmentalize everything.

Tomorrow, she wouldn't be sickeningly jealous of Nyx and Grigoris.

The problem wasn't only that they were in love. They were a couple. Just the two of them.

Nikolett was a territory admiral of the Masters' Admiralty. She believed in the power of the trinity marriage and had once even looked forward to being placed in a trinity.

But now…

Even if she had been able to convince Eric to at least try to find a way for them to be together, when she pictured it, all she saw was Eric and herself. No third. She didn't want to share him with anyone. She wanted Eric to be hers, and hers alone, the same way she wanted to belong to him without a third there.

These feelings were a complete betrayal of a foundational tenet of the Masters' Admiralty.

Nikolett took an unsteady breath, her chest hiccupping with a sob. She was about to get married, and she knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to touch her new spouses.

The idea of being intimate with anyone but Eric made her sick. No matter how angry or heartbroken she was by what he'd done, she longed for him. Moments like right now, when she felt alone and vulnerable, she comforted herself by imagining he was here. That he'd hold her and tell her she was safe.

But that was pure fiction.

The man she loved was forcing her to marry someone else.

What the hell was she going to do?