Liam exited the lift with the unmistakable aura of a man about to become somebody else’s administrative problem.
He rolled a flathead screwdriver between his fingers as the old lift doors slid shut behind him, leaving him alone in a narrow corridor lit by dormant ether strips that had awakened one after another at his approach.
Arik was trapped in a meeting with Cassian and several carefully selected ministers, attempting to understand the present administrative structure of Nuria.
Cassian had apparently come close to tears when Arik displayed more interest in departmental authority, regional governance, and public expenditure than in the imperial engineering archives.
He had even promised to kiss Gabriel and Damian for raising Goliath’s incarnation into a man who voluntarily read budget reports.
Liam hoped someone recorded it.
The security team would catch up with him in approximately five minutes, assuming they continued using the ordinary lifts.
Considerably less if one of them decided to use ether and teleport into the corridor ahead of him.
Liam glanced at the nearest surveillance lens.
It rotated toward him.
He smiled.
The lens dimmed.
"Coward."
He continued walking.
There had to be something inside Felix’s palace.
Arik, Kamal, and Rubis believed his interest was primarily spite. That was not entirely inaccurate. Arik had banned Liam’s ether signature from the residence, refused to discuss the decision, and then purchased an entire hotel to prevent him from sleeping elsewhere.
Naturally, Liam wanted to irritate him.
That did not make the investigation unnecessary.
Liam still woke with the image of Cain being consumed by the Gate.
For a terrifying moment, Cain appeared to have vanished into dense, unmistakably sovereign ether.
That should have been impossible.
Sovereign ether was not merely rare. It belonged to a specific bloodline and answered fully to only one living authority.
Arik.
Yet Cain had carried something close enough for the Gate to react.
Felix had poisoned Goliath over decades, manipulated his household, and survived long enough to interfere with Arik and Liam generations later. A man like that did not accomplish those things through instinct and good fortune.
He had researched something.
Built something.
Stolen something.
And if records existed, Liam doubted Felix had the time to dispose of all it.
The corridor ended at a broad glass wall overlooking an enclosed garden. Beyond it stood the former consort palace, separated from the main imperial residence by a covered bridge and several layers of security.
The building did not resemble the ancient mausoleum Liam had half expected.
It was modern by Nurian standards: pale stone, dark reflective windows, and fine gold ether channels integrated into the exterior walls. The preservation field surrounding it shimmered faintly in the afternoon light, nearly invisible except where it crossed the bridge.
A wall display activated beside him.
ACCESS RESTRICTED.
Liam stepped closer.
ETHER SIGNATURE DENIED BY IMPERIAL ORDER.
"That is unnecessarily personal."
The display offered no apology.
Liam tapped the edge of the panel with the screwdriver.
A second message appeared.
TAMPERING WILL TRIGGER SECURITY RESPONSE.
"Security is already responding."
He glanced behind him.
No one yet.
Four minutes, perhaps.
Liam crouched beside the lower access panel and examined the seam. Nurian systems were elegant, but they had a tendency to hide physical redundancies beneath layers of ether control. Unlike Agaron’s and Wrohan’s engineering, which had developed through external trade, imported principles and a near obsession with interchangeable systems, Nurian technology had evolved inward.
Everything expected the empire to remain sealed.
Everything trusted imperial authority too much.
He inserted the screwdriver beneath the panel.
The system chimed sharply.
"Do not be dramatic."
The cover came free.
Inside, the modern ether interface had been installed over an older mechanical access assembly. Liam’s eyes brightened.
There it was.
A maintenance release.
Physical, independent, and probably forgotten by everyone who relied upon the household network.
He reached for it.
"Lord Liam."
Liam stopped.
The voice had come from the corridor behind him.
He looked over his shoulder.
One of Arik’s guards stood approximately twenty meters away, breathing hard and wearing the expression of a man whose professional training had not included retrieving an imperial mate from restricted historical residences.
Two others appeared behind him.
They had used the lift.
Liam approved of their restraint.
"My lord," the first guard repeated, "please step away from the access panel."
"I am inspecting it."
"You are opening it."
"That is part of inspection."
"His Highness explicitly restricted your access to this residence."
"He restricted my ether signature."
The guard stared at him.
Liam gestured toward the open panel. "I am not using ether."
"That is not a meaningful distinction."
"It is technically precise."
The guards advanced.
Liam pulled the maintenance release.
The preservation field over the bridge flickered.
Every light in the corridor turned red.
A low alarm began pulsing through the walls.
The guards stopped.
Liam looked at the bridge.
The security barrier vanished.
He stood and replaced the screwdriver in his pocket.
"Lord Liam," the guard said with deepening desperation, "do not cross that bridge."
Liam stepped onto it.
The first guard swore.
Someone behind him opened a communication channel. "Inform His Highness."
"No need," Liam called back.
His wrist device had already begun vibrating.
Arik.
Liam declined the call.
It rang again immediately.
He declined it a second time.
A message appeared across the screen.
DO NOT ENTER THAT PALACE.
Liam continued walking.
Another followed.
LIAM.
Then: ESHARA, TURN AROUND.
Liam hesitated for half a step.
It was unfair of Arik to use that name during a disagreement.
He typed while walking, more impressed with how well the floating bridge was built.
Busy.
The response came before he reached the opposite doors.
WITH WHAT?
Liam looked up at Felix’s sealed residence.
Its entrance had recognized that the preservation field was down, but the internal locks remained active. Fine threads of gold light moved across the dark surface, forming an authorization grid.
He lifted the screwdriver again.
Historical research.
Arik’s reply appeared at once.
YOU ARE BREAKING INTO FELIX’S PALACE.
Liam considered denying it.
The alarm was probably visible on every household screen in the imperial residence.
The word "breaking" is unnecessarily judgmental.
Three dots appeared.
Vanished.
Appeared again.
Liam smiled despite himself.
Behind him, the guards were approaching much more cautiously now, apparently concerned that grabbing him near an unstable preservation system would produce an even larger disaster.
A final message arrived.
DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING UNTIL I GET THERE.
Liam looked at the sealed door, then at the screwdriver in his hand.
That was not a refusal.
It was a delay.
And Liam had already spent five days being delayed.
He slipped the screwdriver beneath the access plate.
"With or without permission," he murmured.
The door’s gold authorization grid flared blue-white beneath his fingers.