Page 45

I walk through my ship and to the ramp which leads out into the Aurelian hangar bay. There’s a triad waiting for me, and they bow their heads respectfully before leading me deeper into the ship.

I try not to freeze up when I realize we’re not going to the throne room.

I might be marching to a jail cell, but I march with my head high, when they turn a corner and we go down a long hallway to a set of large doors guarded by two triads, hands near their Orb-Blades. They throw the doors open, and I enter the private residence of the royal triad.

After the majesty of the throne room, I had expected opulence. The room is huge, high-ceilinged, but spartan. Three huge beds in the center of the room, a solid wooden table with three chairs, doors leading out deeper into the ship. The true luxury is the space itself. The doors leading out mean he has an area bigger than my entire ship just for his triad.

The three aliens are sitting at the ends of their beds. They are clad in their warrior togas that leave the left half of their chests bare.

No crowns on their heads, an informal meeting compared to the audiences in the throne room.

“Maybe you should sit,” says Doman, gesturing to the wooden table against the wall. I pull myself onto one of the over-sized wooden chairs, my feet dangling.

“Does your hand hurt?” asks Gallien.

“No. Those knives are razor sharp.”

“We have a private med-bay. We can smooth your palm.”

“I’ll keep it.”

Titus nods. “I keep every scar. Reminds me to be faster next time,” he says, unconsciously running his hand over the bullet wounds he earned saving Pentarian lives. It was just duty to him.

“Well then,” I say carefully, watching the three men.

Doman sits up on the bed, rigid, his face clouded. “I do not know if you are right. But I admit there is a… possibility.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Careful, Prince Doman. That’s starting to sound like treason.”

He closes his eyes slowly, his face a stone mask. But while his eyes are closed, his battle-brothers watch me carefully. “Yes. Treason. And you could report this to any one of the Interrogators on my warship, and even my royal protection would not put me above their investigations.”

His eyes open, bright, burning blue.

“This is not a ploy.”

“Then we need your help. Your spy network. You’ve penetrated Colossus. Do you have agents near the Royal Palace itself?”

“I do not know the identities of our spies. The intelligence agency is a separate body.” His question reveals a key fact—he doesn’t even consider the possibility spies could be within the palace itself.

He has no idea how deep our network goes.

“Protected by layers of bureaucracy,” says Titus.

“You don’t know individual spies. But you’re not completely ignorant. I’m trusting you here, Adriana. One word of this conversation and my triad will be brought back to Colossus for interrogation.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because on our wedding day, I am going to break Fay free.” There’s no more dancing around the topic, no more vagueallusions. He fixes his gaze on me, searching my reactions. My eyes widen in shock I can’t contain, even as I try to keep my face a neutral mask.

“I don’t believe you. I felt your three auras. You’re at war. You wouldn’t go against your own people. You wouldn’t fracture your Empire for a single life.”

Doman’s hands clench against the blanket. “If we succeed, no one will ever know. My parents would keep it hidden. They would not show any weakness. The official report would be that Obsidian’s Mate was moved to another secure location.”

“And if you fail?”

“Then the four of us will be put in a jail cell. You too, Adrianna. I can’t protect you from that. We’ll be placed apart, unable to feel each other, until the war is done.”

“How are you going to do it?”