Page 101

But Adriana is made for it. She didn’t become Prime Minister through a blade at her belt—and not only do I want to make things right between us, I want to ask her advice.

“I’ll make this right,” I say, and rush towards the door, my robes whipping with the movement. It feels good to be in motion. I crave my mate, crave the peace only she can give me, knowing that her touch is the only thing that can soothe the fury that’s burning in my being.

30

ADRIANA

The moment I’m out of sight of the triad, a weight lifts from my shoulders.

I wave away an escort, wanting to walk the sterile hallways of the Imperator alone. The hallways gleam, austere, shining bright like they’ve been polished daily. It’s a place that seems unsuited to life.

Even the air here is too clean, too pure, yet with the hint of staleness that tells me it has been recycled a thousand times over. My footsteps echo unnaturally loudly on the sheening floors, the bright lighting cold and impersonal, and I find myself walking faster, needing to get back to the human imperfections of my own chambers.

I’m still not used to the alien species. Even spending all this time with them, I need to think of them as strangers. It’s easier to deal with Toad envoys at the border, the warty species filled with greed who would just as soon eat you if they don’t think they can make a profit with trade.

But Aurelians… for one, you have to constantly crane your neck to look up at them. And their skin unnerves me. Like it was chiseled from marble, their veins like natural lines in the stone.The way they move is predatory, their footsteps barely making a sound on metal floors when they want to be silent, and it feels like they could be coming after me, hunting me down. Every time I turn a corner in the hallway, I’m afraid I’ll bump into a triad coming at full speed that I never even heard.

Gallien stood so still during the heated exchange in the royal chambers that the only indication he was alive was the subtle rise and fall of his chest. He barely blinked, barely moved, giving me no window into his soul. That bothered me more than the terse exchange with Doman and Titus. That felt more alien.

I smooth my uniform as I walk, finding my way through the labyrinth of sterile hallways. The familiar heavy cotton centers me. I wore it on the bridge during the demonstration, appearing there not as the mate of the triad but in my official position as Prime Minister of Pentaris. It’s crisp and reassuring, a barrier between me and the cold marble sterility of the warship.

I turn a corner and a triad of Aurelians snap to attention, standing rigid and bowing their heads in respect as I walk, doing my best not to flinch away from them. The silence is broken by distant sounds of the ship’s operation, and the low, near imperceptible hum of the Orbs that power the warship.

The hangar bay where my government-issued ship rests like an ugly duck among swans is a hive of activity. Aurelians are working at a frantic, well-organized speed, the chaos streamlined as they rush between the Reavers that were just used in the PK test. Metal clangs, and shouted commands create a cacophony that’s strangely invigorating, a contrast to the oppressive silence of the hallways. Their movements are efficient and precise, each action purposeful and deliberate, throwing the chaos of my own emotions in my face.

Here, instead of flowing robes, they have tight-fitted, plain grey workers uniforms with no loose ends to get caught in machinery or pure white to be stained. But even dressed similarto humans, they are so unlike us, each towering, each with centuries of life and war. Oil and metal tinges my nostrils, and a chemical smell I can’t place.

The engineers and workers pause in their work the moment I appear at the top stairwell looking down, their posture straightening to strict military attention. Welding torches spit out sparks, biceps clench as they hold tools and parts, and their faces are a mask of concentration, broken by the slightest flicker of recognition.

“As you were,” I say, and they seamlessly return to work. I take a deep breath. Despite their deference, I am an intruder in their world.

It’s not my status as Prime Minister that makes them interrupt their business for me.

It’s my position as Mate of the triad they would follow into death itself.

As I approach my ship, the doors open. Gould, one of the Administrators who I can trust for blunt council, sighs in relief, and my eyes flick down to my smart-watch. I’ve got a dozen ignored message requests.

“Madame Prime Minister, the council is awaiting your briefing.”

“I’ll join them shortly. Give me five.”

He winces. “Gunnar’s getting damned impatient.”

“He can wait,” I say, walking past him and into my ship. I retreat to my quarters, sinking into my chair with a heavy heart. The urgency of the meeting fades as I activate the holo-vid projector, because there’s something on my mind.

Fay.

I need to trust the triad to help me rescue her. But can I? There was something in our interaction that planted seeds of doubt in the back of my mind.

I immerse myself in data streaming from the universe, our network of spies. Pentaris has agents deeply embedded in Aurelian strongholds. Among them, a cook, who risked his own mind to infiltrate the royal palace itself. His brain is fragmented into two personalities, the second one crafted in an intense eight-month hypnosis program on Etherion. The alternate identity is the only way to pass the grueling psychological tests of the Interrogators who run the Aurelian Empire’s spy agency.

To free Fay, I’ll have to reveal the existence of my network. I hinted to Gallien that it was deeper than they thought - but they surely can’t imagine I have spies embedded within the palace itself. People don’t look as hard at impossibilities.

If the Aurelian Empire finds out it’s possible I have spies in their palace itself… it’ll threaten the program for centuries.

Just how much can I trust the triad?

They would kill for me. This, I know. Die for me? I shiver, remembering the way Doman stared through my soul as he fucked me, the way he pulled me against his pounding chest. He would die before seeing me hurt.