Page 27

IRIS

Remy leads me into the chamber where the Farguard keeps its messaging orbs.

My heart drops. “This is…it?”

Chamber isn’t a great word for the basement conference room where a single, bowling-ball sized orb sits perched on an empty roll of duct tape in the middle of a dust-caked folding table.

Remy nods. “This is it.”

It’s not exactly the Kyorgos mansion, all chandeliers and velvet cushions, every fixture sparkling, pristine, and cold.

The ducal messaging chamber has its own butler.

“Let me guess. There are no energy crystals?”

Remy chuckles. “No budget for the damned.”

Sighing, I wipe the dusty orb with my sleeve. “Can you power it for me? I need to concentrate.”

“Happily.” Remy touches a silk to the glassy surface, channeling a steady flow of magic to activate the orb. A light sparks inside, signaling that it’s ready to connect.

He’s being so helpful that I consider passing back the responsibility to make this call. “What if…”

“Hmm?” he asks, busy sniffing my hair.

“Never mind.” I tug away the hair and shoo him to the other side of the table.

It’s my job.

Time to prove that I can do it.

When I pick up the orb, it hums against my fingers, resonating with my badge. The authority of a sword major allows me access to a few channels. The Farguard falls directly under the Northern Legion’s authority, so they should be my first report.

But House Azrid commands the legion.

If their plan is really for Remy to rampage and die alone in the mountains…

Screw the chain of command.

Manipulating my silks, I tune to the palace’s emergency line. “Connect.”

A middle-aged man’s face appears. He wears the gold-and-white robed uniform of a low-level minister and a haughty pinch in his nose.

“Name, post, report,” he drones.

“Iris Ashbourne. I’m standing in as commander of the Northern Legion’s Farguard, stationed at?—”

“That name belongs to a consort registered under the protection of Kyorgos House.”

“No. I’m?—”

“You are Iris Ashbourne?”

“Yes, but?—”

“Then you’re not authorized to use this channel,” the man cuts me off again. “Have your commanding officer submit the report. Good day.”

The orb darkens.

I squeeze it hard enough to risk a crack. “What if we abandon the border, after all?”

“Splendid idea,” Remy answers. “The undead are so unpleasant.”

“So says the vampire.” I smirk in spite of the palace drone’s snub.

“It’s a bloodline. Not a loyalty.”

“Let me borrow your bloodline to prove a point.” I drag a dusty office chair from the wall to the table and gesture for him to sit first.

I refuse to be dismissed.

Remy sits obediently.

I perch on his knees. Even when I’m not trying to guide him, sticking close keeps me passively purifying Remy’s energy.

We’re too well matched.

Just like me and everyone else , I remind myself, trying to keep some distance.

“What do you seek to prove?” Remy loops my waist, dragging me over his thighs until he can rest his chin on my shoulder.

“That I’m holding your leash.” And the Farguard needs me to keep holding.

I shift his grip to a less-ticklish position, putting his hands on the chair-arms instead of my waist.

We’re setting the scene, not live-streaming a full-body guiding session.

“Indeed,” Remy purrs

“You don’t have to do much. Just repeat what I say to the man.” I poke his ribs to stop his tempting sound effects. “Give me some juice.”

Remy covers my hands. His magic wiggles through my skin, and I shiver so hard, I’d drop the orb if he weren’t helping me hold on.

“Connect,” I say shakily.

“Name, post, report,” the man repeats in the same bored and snobbish tone.

I clear my throat. “This is Duke Remington Azrid, Sword Major of the Northern Legion’s Farguard.”

“This is Duke Remington Azrid,” Remy drawls, his hot breath vibrating the chain of my earring. “Sword Major of the Northern Legion’s Farguard.”

The man finally turns his head. Expressionlessly, he takes in my position on Remy’s lap.

“Requesting reinforcements,” I add.

“Requesting reinforcements,” Remy repeats mindlessly, running his nose along the arteries in my neck. They’re much more interesting to him than this call.

I lift a brow at the palace flunky. You wanted the commander?

The man heaves a bureaucratic sigh. “For what reason?”

“We unearthed a failing prison seal. The arrays were drawn in powdered dragon bone. Its collapse has already begun.”

“We unearthed—” Remy starts.

“Enough.” The man waves. “I’m busy, not dense. What’s the sealed monster’s power rating?”

“The cavern collapsed before we could measure.” I wince. “But the seal is ancient and the cracks are bleeding undead magic.”

“The monster hasn’t risen?”

“Not yet. It’s resurrecting lesser monsters.”

“Any ghouls?”

“Possibly,” I hedge, stomach sinking. Ghouls only appear at the highest levels of necromancy. He’s trying to downplay the threat. “The seal is a slow break. But I’ve spent years beside the Kyorgos bloodline. I promise, this thing is stronger than their duke.”

“Your promise is noted.” Unimpressed, he turns back to his keyboard. “Which monsters have you witnessed rising?”

“It’s kobold season,” I answer carefully.

“Kobolds?” He tsks . “I’ll pass your report along.”

“Wait.” I clutch the orb. “This monster feels above S-class. Apocalypse tier. When it rises?—”

“Call back when it does,” he says curtly. “Otherwise, handle it yourselves. Imperial forces are stretched too thin to hold your hand for mob-class dregs.”

“It’s not?—”

“Good day, Major Azrid.” The man waves and his image disappears.

I stare into the lightless orb. It reflects my irritated scowl and Remy’s fixation on my throat.

“I should’ve sent scouts to take an official power reading.” Silly me, expecting my word to be enough.

“Faervaine won’t assist,” Remy murmurs. “Not here. Not us.”

I chew my lip, hating the words I’m about to say out loud. “Duke Kevan might come.”

“For you?” Remy asks roughly.

His shadows bite my flesh.

“No.” I snort and calm his silks. “He’d never come for me.”

But Kevan would be interested in devouring all the undead magic leaking from that seal.

A few years ago, I had the plague so bad the duchess called for a priest. While I was dying, Kevan left to raid a tomb. After my miracle recovery, he came home with new powers.

At the time, I was so proud, watching my Sentinel grow stronger. He did apologize for leaving me alone. Even thanked me for letting him go in my time of need.

Stupid, stupid Guide.

“Tell me,” Remy drawls. “How did you become tangled with that lich?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll forget the story, anyway.” Like I wish I could.

“I’ve memorized your name.”

“Wow. Amazing.”

Remy licks my neck bones. “Iris Azrid.”

“Be serious.” Shivering, I jump off his lap. “We need to plan for the worst. It would help if we knew what the ancients buried down there.”

“There is an archive,” Remy offers. “But it may be difficult to access.”

“Why? Where is it?” I’m open to anything that saves me from death by shambling horde.

“In here.” Remy taps his smooth forehead. “Perhaps I was present when the seal was laid.”

I’d assume he was joking, but Remy’s energy is shockingly sincere.

My throat tightens.

No wonder his soul is lonely.

Decades, even centuries of loyalty mean nothing to the empire now that Remy’s bloodline power has reached its end.

“We can try to jog your memory,” I offer gently, but I’m not holding my breath.

My top priority is fucking him and Vhex back into fighting shape.

Can you bone a vampire hard enough to un-repress his memories of the dark ages?

I’m about to find out.

Meanwhile, the annoying itch in my veins reminds me I’ve been away from Vhex for too long.

Remy snags my wrist and sneers at the blue lines. “His venom lingers.”

“That’s not even a top ten problem.” I wave him off and press my badge.

The commander’s token comes with a ton of handy functions I haven’t had a chance to test. A thread of power sends my summons to everyone sworn to the Farguard.

My “all hands on deck” command is met with hundreds of vague mental acknowledgments, including a spirit hug from Vhex.

He must be doing fine.

The base isn’t even on fire.

After all the responses, I sense two blanks where someone hasn’t pinged me back. I frown. “Can a Sentinel silence mental notifications?”

“Can they?” Remy tilts his head.

His lucid window is closing.

Better keep him close.

I grab his hand. “Let’s check it out.”

“Let’s.” Remy curls our fingers, taking the chance to wind into my silks.

Following the non-response leads me to the basement lobby.

My throat itches. My body warms.

Stupid venom.

I shrug off the pull, catching a pulse of lust that has nothing to do with me and Vhex.

The signal comes from the suites, which should be emptied after the kobold attack. “Do you feel that?”

“No. I scent blood. One Sentinel. One Guide. Imprinted and…” Remy’s nose wrinkles. “Fucking quite passionately.”

It must be Simms.

The rogue S-class isn’t a top ten problem either, but he’s one I want to fix.

“Help me crack a skull real fast.” I tug Remy toward the guidance suites.

Another cool function of my badge?

I can unlock doors around the base. I let myself into the pair’s room and instantly cover my nose.

Musky bunny sex.

The basement room is laid out the same as the one I barely slept in last night. I stride past the weapon rack and bathroom, into a suite that’s dark except for the subtle, green glow rising from two entwined bodies.

A Guide rides his Sentinel on the stripped bed.

Instead of two twisting auras, they give off the single, united glow of an imprinted pair.

I can’t read the Sentinel’s emotions or needs. He’s locked on his Guide’s own special wavelength.

The rest of us don’t need to exist .

“Baby,” Simms grunts.

I open my mouth, assuming he notices he has company.

He does not.

Simms flips the smaller man and pins his knees to the headboard.

“So tight for me.” His thick ass cheeks flex as he thrusts. “I can’t— Can’t. Stop. Fuck . You like that, sweet boy?”

“ Hnnglnlnggg !” the Guide moans like a dying balloon.

He should be able to see us from that angle, but his green-glowing eyes are glazed.

He’s lost in the magic of their connected souls.

I’d be jealous, but I can count his ribs.

They’re so out of their minds for each other, they haven’t been eating.

Let alone using lube.

“Will they chafe to death if we leave them?” I ask, not bothering to lower my voice.

“Disgusting.” Remy snags my hand and uses my cupped palm as an oxygen mask.

Forget punishing them for abandoning their posts. They’re going to need rehab just to take fluids.

Lifting two fingers at my lips, I whistle loud enough to resurrect a kobold.

Simms finally reacts.

He rolls across the rumpled bed, casting a wall of sand to shield his Guide. “Who the fu?—”

Remy’s shadows choke him out as they bind him. His half-cast magic crumbles.

“M-m-m—” He splutters, spotting Remy at my shoulder.

He can’t say Major, but his at-attention dick takes care of the salute.

I wince. “Can you conjure him some pants?”

“Absolutely not,” Remy answers, still breathing through my fingers. Rather than touching the bottom half of the Sentinel who hasn’t washed in— ugh, let’s not do that math —Remy conjures a shadowy privacy wall.

The Sentinel’s eyes pop; he’s finally rejoining us in reality.

I pat Remy’s hand. “Let him go before he chokes.”

The shadow yoke dissolves.

Simms gasps.

Instead of apologizing, covering his business, or even taking a breath, the first thing he does is cover his blissed-out Guide. His hands shake as he pulls a sheet over his lover.

The dark-haired Guide glows green as a glow-bug, still brainless after being fucked into his liquid form.

Pain stabs, hot and sharp.

I shouldn’t be jealous.

Think of the chafing.

“Azrid.” Simms coughs. “What brings you to our quarters?”

“I brought him.” I tap my badge. “I’m Commander Ashbourne. You ignored my summons just now. Did you even notice the base was being attacked?”

“Was it? Bummer.” Simms runs his fingers through shaggy blond hair. Their fuck-fest has lasted so long that he’s working on a caveman beard. “Wait. You’re a Guide? Why are you in command?”

“No one else applied for the job.”

“Good point.” He squints through the dark. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Remy extends the shadow screen to the ceiling, blocking Simms’s view. “Does he absolutely need to have eyes?”

S-class Sentinels must be programmed to antagonize each other, because Simms doesn’t take the hint to shut his mouth. “Right, right. The house. Ashbourne. Like, Sorrel’s sister?”

“F—” I manage to choke off the habitual explanation.

Foster sister.

Sorrel doesn’t like anyone misunderstanding our relationship.

He’s the biological son and heir—the one tasked with reviving the glory of Ashbourne house and regaining the margrave title they lost with their fading bloodline.

Not that that has anything to do with me.

I’m just the orphan kid and suspected Guide that his evil step-mother brought into the house to secure her position after she poisoned Sorrel’s actual mother, the former baroness.

We could’ve bonded over our shared trash family, but Sorrel went evil step-brother. I killed my first goblin at seven because he released them onto the estate.

For “training,” back when the family didn’t care how I lived, as long as I was alive. They only expected me to become a D or C-class Guide.

Sorrel is why I was so happy to play along with my mother’s power-climbing, getting engaged young and leaving home as soon as I legally could.

That’s why I worked so hard to stay with a duke who didn’t love me. That’s why I have to keep working so fucking hard to earn a place here, in the armpit of the empire.

I will never go back to that house.

Luckily, I no longer owe shit to my family.

I owe Simms even less.

“Worry about yourself,” I say and push back my shoulders. “You have ten minutes to wash yourself, find a clean uniform, and get your Guide to a healer.”

“Yeah, no,” he grumbles from behind the screen. “I’m not leaving Tan behind.”

How cute and totally deluded.

“Ten minutes,” I insist. “After that, I’ll have Vhex and Remy compete on who can drag you to me first. They’ll split you down the middle to win points.”

“ Remy? ” The Sentinel croaks. “Whoa. You’re their?—”

“Nine minutes.” I walk toward the door. “And find that healer first. If you really loved your Guide, you’d never let him suffer.”