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Doman isn’t even trying to protect himself. His blue eyes, glassy, are staring at me. I can see the torture in him, and it’s not for the six men he lost.

“I told you it wasn’t safe for her! I told you to leave her in Pentaris!” Titus roars out the words, in agony. “Fight back, dammit, fight back!” He holds his hand into a fist in front of Doman’s head, every muscle in his body tense, his huge biceps flexed to the limit.

I can see the guilt in Doman’s eyes as he stares at me.

I rush to them, trying to pull the enraged beast off Doman, but Gallien pulls me back, and he rushes forward, grabbing Titus, twisting and wrestling him. Titus is glad to have an opponent who will fight him, and the two of them writhe on the floor, wrestling and grunting, while Doman slowly picks himself up.

His right eye is swelling up. As his battle-brothers pant, slowly extracting themselves from each other, Titus still on the ground, and Gallien standing and reaching out his hand to pull him up, Doman simply watches me, a thousand unsaid words between us.

“I’m needed on the bridge,” he states, finally, coldly, leaving me to his battle-brothers. Titus ignores Gallien’s hand, pulling himself to his feet. His grey eyes are wild, his black mass of hair tangled and framing that anvil jaw, and I’ve never seen the barbarian so vulnerable, so broken.

He rushes to me, and I freeze up, petrified as he squeezes me tight against his muscled chest. I breathe in his scent, that deep, primal smell that is only him, the smell that should reassure me, but as the brutal warrior runs his hand through my hair, I don’t know what to think.

“Forgive me, Adriana, forgive me,” he rasps.

He hates himself for not leaving me behind in Pentaris. He hates himself for following Doman’s orders.

He hates himself for letting me decide my own fate, instead of being a good little mate, following his commands and keeping myself out of harm’s way.

I’m torn up inside, and deep down, I know I’m going to rip this triad apart.

32

PRINCE DOMAN

The reinforced doors open to the bridge, and I stride out, noting the tension on every man’s face. Technicians stare into data, not wanting to look at me, and my acting commander greets me with a nod.

“Reports,” I state, as I take my place in the center, looking out through the viewport to the stars that mark the border of the Aurelian Empire.

Reports are rattled off. The first shift through the Rift was nearly clean. One of the gunneries simply didn’t come through, sheared off as if someone ran a wire through it. I pull up the feed of it. A triad was lost who were manning the guns, but the airlocks closed automatically to seal off the rest of the ship.

The second shift left the Imperator completely intact.

But six Aurelians didn’t make it. One left a tooth behind. The other, a hand gripping tight around his Orb-Blade. I don’t know where he is now.

I hope those six were taken somewhere. I pray they are on a planet, another place or another time, and not just lost in the darkness forever. I’ve got my suspicions, dark suspicions, that they would be better off dead than wherever they are.

I feel distant from myself as I speak with my staff, checking star maps showing my proximity to safe territories. We’re in sensor range, and we can expect to be escorted in to Colossus.

In battle, I am never more present than when I have a blade in my hand, leading my troops, or barking out commands from the bridge. In war, I am totally in the moment.

Now I feel like an automaton, speaking commands based on my training and not my intuition. I’m detached from my emotions, because if I let myself feel them, even for a second, I’ll be overwhelmed by the terror and shame.

I brought my Fated Mate into danger.

I nearly lost her.

A technician, standing on the far ship of the bridge, is looking at me strangely. “Again,” I state.

“Engines are back on Orb-Power. We drew from the nuclear reserves for twelve seconds, but we’re back online.”

“Good. Plot a straight line to the border. I don’t want to take any chance Obsidian can follow us through the Rift. I want to be in Orb-Disruptor range, protected. Full speed. I want the Orb-Power at full, the nuclear reserves tapped, and all non-essential power draws off until we’re safe.”

Three solutions are proposed on the holo-vid feed; I sign off on the second.

“The broken triads. Where are they?”

Silence greets me, then finally, the acting commander tells me that they’re in the med-bays.