Page 69

Heavy bootsteps, and Gallien steps back from the door as two triads of guards, called in to protect me, fill the hallway.

I sit heavily on the floor, finding security with the back against my wall.

Gallien deactivates his blade and squats next to me, his back straight.

“Those triads were on a one-way trip. No way back. True believers, double branded on their foreheads. The kind of soldiers who worship Obsidian as a God. They were willing to die for a chance to assassinate you.”

“How did they know I was here?”

“His intelligence services will have studied you. And they would have known you wouldn’t miss the test. This ship was built thousands of years ago, and back then, they built each ship different.

That’s why the layout feels so strange, winding hallways.

It’s to stop Orb-Shifting attacks, which used to be common.

But every one of our men who deserted to Obsidian’s forces knows the layout of our ship and the standard operating procedure for the hangar bay we’d keep you in.

From now on, we sleep in a different room every night, with triple guards.

Our return trip will deviate from the standard flight patterns. Obsidian won’t get another chance.”

“And if he has men on board right now? Sleeper agents giving up our position?”

Gallien shakes his head. “Impossible. Everyone’s been vetted by Interrogators.”

I lick my lips. From what I know, only we’ve been able to get past the questioning techniques of the Interrogators who run the Aurelian Empire intelligence agency. I should tell him his security isn’t as foolproof as he thinks—but something holds me back.

“And is Titus going to be okay?”

Titus grips the metal slab they call a hospital bed in their species, sitting up, his abs rippling as he moves. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Now you know how it feels, huh?”

His eyes widen, then he snorts out a painful laugh, which turns into a cough. “I save your life and you give me a hard time?”

I scooch forward, putting my hand on his tree trunk of a thigh. “Only because I know you can handle it. Thank you. How did you know there was going to be an ambush? I was expecting Obsidian’s men to barge through the door, not you.”

He smiles. “I didn’t. I was coming to apologize to you.”

“Well, all is forgiven now.” I bite my lip, thinking. “So what happens now?”

Gallien runs his hand through his buzzed hair. I’ve never seen him this tense. He squats with his back perfectly straight, and I bet he could stay like this without moving for days.

He cocks his head slightly across from me, and from the little flickers of emotion on his face, I guess he must be communicating frantically with Doman, telepathing to the leader of his triad.

“We go back to Pentaris. If Obsidian has mastered the Rift to the degree he can teleport multiple triads into our warship itself, nowhere is safe. Nowhere except space protected by Orb-Disruptors, like the ones on Etherion that guard your territories.”

“And then? It’s not long to the border. What then?”

Silence greets my words. Titus gets to his feet, swaying slightly from blood loss. “Better to wait until Doman is back.”

The towering beast of a man looms over me. I push myself to my feet, crossing my arms, but I still am barely up to his belly button. “Tell me. That’s what you came to apologize for, right? Treating me like I’m not an equal?”

He winches. “We strike Obsidian. He can launch surgical assassinations, and he needs to be put down. This attack on you changed everything.

“You’re planning to use the Planet-Killers. You’re planning to move them through my territory and hit his planets.” I shake my head. “Those planets… he’s taken control of human planets, too. You take them out, you’re killing innocents.”

I almost can’t say it. Just speaking it makes it real.

“And where do I fit into this plan?”

“You’ll stay in Pentaris. Where he can’t touch you.” Titus’ voice is growly.

“That’s not an option,” I counter quickly. “If you lead a strike on Obsidian’s territory, it could be months of warfare. Fay’s due any moment, and that baby doesn’t survive a night.”

Titus winces, visibly disturbed the mention of Fay.

He averts his gaze, focusing intently on the wall, as if seeking answers in the sterile whiteness of the medical bay.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he states, but there’s uncertainty in his words, a rack in his usually unshakeable exterior.

Maybe it was Obsidian sending troops directly for his Mate that makes him understand what his Empire has done to his enemy.

Maybe now, he understands just how desperate Obsidian feels and the things he’d be willing to do to get Fay back.

Gallien, at eye level to me while squatting, considers me. “Traveling back to Colossus means crossing vast stretches of empty space—perfect ambush spots. You’ve already been targeted once.”

“I’m not getting sidelined,” I insist, my tone brooking no argument. “This is my fight too.”

Titus whirls around to face me, his movements too swift, causing him to stumble.

The titan, like an oak felled, catches himself on the metal side of the hospital bed before he hits the ground.

His Orb-Blade deactivates, and he presses his other hand against his temple.

The sudden dizziness of the blood loss overwhelms him, and Gallien leaps to his feet, at his side in an instant, but Titus pushes him off.

“Do you really think Obsidian will let you waltz the Planet-Killers into his territory? They are slow. Cumbersome. One little swipe of an Orb-Beam and they’d be taken out.”

“There are no plans to use the Planet-Killers,” states Gallien, sounding like a lawyer.

I shake my head, not buying it. “Bullshit. You think a Queen capable of keeping a pregnant woman hostage won’t use every weapon at her disposal? The Emperor triad, who watched their species splintered? They can’t afford not to.”

Silence. Maybe it’s just the blood loss, or maybe I’m getting to Titus. The big man grunts, walking around the medical table so he can lean both hands on it for support while facing me.

“The Rift. Obsidian’s control over it is increasing. Short shifts are more precise, aren’t they?”

“Correct,” answers Gallien, as Titus puts his weight against the metal slab, his black curls tumbling down his marble face, head down as he tries to recover.

“If he’s this accurate at range, what do you think happens when you go into his territory?”

“Four triads. He shifted in four today. Each with the brand on their forehead,” says Gallien. “He doesn’t have an endless supply of true believers. Each assassination attempt costs him.”

“If his assassins die. The one constant is his power over the Rift is growing. What happens when he can shift in a dozen triads? A hundred? When they can overwhelm a warship and take it over, bringing it back to his main army? You need to be retreating, not attacking, until you know the extent of his power. If you try to put me safe and sound in Pentaris and go off on the battlefield alone, it’s you three who aren’t coming back. ”

Doman strides into the room, his presence amplified by the sleek Orb-Armor he’s changed into.

The blue-black metallic plates are seamless, covering him to the neck.

Since leaving the med-bay, he’s transformed.

The attack on me rattled him, but now he’s the picture of determined composure, blue eyes clear and emotionless, his blonde hair framing his stoic face.

“We can use the same alert system that told us he was shifting Reavers in to predict shifting triads,” he begins, voice steady and assured.

“It’s brief. Twenty seconds of warning, at most. I’ve ordered continuous surveillance and rotational guard shifts.

This is the way it used to be, long ago, in the Galactic war, when we had mastery of the Rift.

This ship has seen boarding combat in the past, and it will again.

Obsidian wasted his one chance to hit us with the element of surprise. We’re ready for him now.”

The door hisses shut behind him. He stands, flanked by his battle-brothers, a wall of muscled marble flesh and vitality. Gallien is sharp and focused, Titus a wounded beast, Doman in complete control once more.

I challenge him. “And the plan? You’re escorting the PKs in to obliterate his planets one by one?”

Doman’s cold blue eyes pierce me. “The tests with the PKs were testing their readiness and to halt any Toad advances. Nothing more.”

“You’re lying to yourself if you believe that. You think Queen Jasmine and her Emperors wanted to blow up a planet for fun?” I use the royal titles of his parents, hoping it will make him think analytically.

“There’s no reason to risk the PKs in his territory.

The strategy is the same. Lure Obsidian to Colossus.

I now know the desperation of protecting a Fated Mate.

” His voice is tinged with a personal, raw edge, the first crack of emotion since returning.

“With his pregnant mate in danger, he will lose strategic focus. He’ll be lured into our territories where he cannot shift.

He will know the battle is unwinnable, he will be outnumbered and outgunned, and he will bring his forces into our orbital batteries. And then he will die.”

As he speaks, I find myself instinctively retreating, until my back hits the wall. His flowing golden mane, his bright blue eyes, his noble features, all of it is a mask for a monster. “You told me you’d save Fay. Now you’re telling me she’s bait?”

His brows furrow. “No, we will save her. We execute an escape during our wedding, and we do it right, with minimal witnesses. The Interrogators will ensure the story doesn’t leave the palace. Obsidian will be led to believe she’s still captive. He’ll die chasing a ghost.”