Page 119

I’m going to be face to face with the most powerful woman in the universe, and her triad of Aurelian Emperors who hold the fate of trillions.

Elites form up behind and in front of us, taking their place as a protective escort. Big seven-footers, made even larger by theheavy armor that covers them to their necks. We follow them up the stone steps into a grand hall, and my stomach churns.

I’ve walked into hundreds of tense meetings, presided over crises. I’ve been flung into the Rift—but there, I had no choice.

Nothing has given me this unique quality of unease as finally meeting Doman’s parents. As we enter the palace, high ceilings and cold, impersonal marble, I feel like I’m entering the spider’s web.

Heavy combat boots ring out against the stone as I am taken deeper into the sprawling palace. I lose my bearings in the twists and turns, and as we penetrate the castle, all the white, gleaming marble walls look the same. A frisson rushes up my spine as I imagine the polished stone marred by blood, combat boots slipping, screams of pain and growls of fury as triads battle each other in hand-to-hand combat.

A set of doors open automatically into a circular meeting room. The Elites wait behind as I enter with Doman.

The first thing that strikes me is the architectural prowess, the attention to detail and opulence of even a minor meeting room. The high dome ceiling rises above us, and the room is dominated by a circular grey stone table dead center in the room.

At the head of the table is the Queen herself. Her triad stands solemnly behind her. The Emperor Raegan, crown on his head, in formal white robes with a face like granite, towers over her. He smiles ever so slightly, obvious pride in his eyes as his firstborn son enters. Emperor Karan has a lean, chiseled face, and Baldur’s eyes are cold and serious.

Three men who have presided over this war-time society, who have planned campaigns that have turned the tide of war. They each have the lives and deaths of millions on their conscience. The authority of the Aurelian Empire flows from the four people in front of me. There are no votes to hide behind, nodemocratic commissions to skew their will. They bear the weight of it all.

Jasmine is skinny, in a formal dress, blue and green hues with lace and vine patterns that go up to her swanlike neck. I’ve seen holo-vids of her pregnant, her breasts swollen and laden with milk for her huge alien babes, but the changes are temporary, and she has a grace to her, as if she rises above everything in this room. It’s not quite arrogance, but a complete self-assurance. The human queen, a woman who has been publicly bred, a woman who broadcasted her matings with her triad in the Arena of the Gods, yet she has no shame, as if it means nothing to her. Her features are stern and refined, and at first glance she looks to be in her early twenties, but there is an uncanny agelessness to her. It’s not wrinkles, or any physical indicator of age, but when I look into her eyes, I do not see a young woman.

She rises, every movement precise yet natural. “Welcome to Colossus.” She glides to Doman, and he hugs her tight, then goes to his fathers, shaking their hands one by one.

“Prime Minister Adriana. I know your journey was not easy. Rest assured, you are protected here.”

“Thank you, Queen Jasmine.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Shall we dispense with the honorifics?”

“Let’s.”

“Raegan, my love, would the three of you go over the PK test with Doman while I speak with my daughter-in-law-to-be in private?”

A chill goes through me. I look up at Doman, and his clear blue eyes meet mine as he gives me a tiny nod. Emperor Raegan flicks his smart-watch, already pulling up holo-vid maps that cover the stone table, images of the Planet Killer powering up,and the thin beam that jolts out from it. I turn my eyes from it, remembering the blinding darkness.

“Would you come with me?” Jasmine asks, politely, but she doesn’t wait for me to answer as she leaves the meeting room. I catch up, walking at her side deeper into the palace. No Elites accompany us, and I yearn for Doman.

We walk without speaking, neither of us wanting to delve into small talk, until we get to a stone archway leading into an interior garden in the heart of the palace. The stone walls are a muted marble, rising high above, the open sky framed hundreds of feet above us, illuminating the gardens with soft, natural light. There is a meadow with a stone path, and a calm pond that does not stir.

“This was Doman’s place, as a child. Come, sit with me,” she says, sitting down on the stone bench in front of the waters.

I sit next to her as a frog upsets the stillness of the pond, leaping out of the waters and causing ripples to expand outwards. I stop myself from shifting against the cold stone.

“Can I trust that nothing I say here goes beyond this room?” Jasmine’s voice is soft, but it carries.

“Even to my triad?”

In the corner of my vision, I see her lips tighten. “That would be best. I want to talk to you about my son. Doman has always been a private person. When the Bond thrummed, I asked him where his Mate was. He said it didn’t matter and put on the ring like every other soldier in our army, severing any connection to her until the war is won. He is truly… selfless. A quality that makes him an effective general, but I didn’t think he would take it so far.”

Doman told only his brother Bruton that I am his Fated Mate. I have no idea why he’s kept it a secret from his own parents. When I asked him about it, he would answer the samething before switching the topic—that the fewer people who know, the better.

Or is it that even he doesn’t trust his parents?

“I understand this is a political marriage.” I keep my voice neutral.

“Yes, you will be wedded to my son. And the city will celebrate his sacrifice. I have nothing against you, Adriana. But when I look at you, I see every second he should be with his Mate.”

I tense up. “Did you bring me here to insult me?”

“No. I brought you here to make a deal with you. Doman is an honorable man. Too honorable. So when this war is done, I will send fourteen Orbs to Pentaris. Enough to power entire cities. All I ask in return is that this marriage of politics does not get in the way of him finding his Fated Mate. Divorce him cleanly, and in the meantime… accept the reality of the situation.”