Page 137 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)

“Snorenath the Shadowclinger,” Princesa says with exaggerated reverence.

“Wow. That’s... really something.” Rocks’ hand tightens around her Elerium necklace.

“I mean, I only crushed a few dozen Void-pains and a couple thousand murder-bots with my divine barriers.” She shrugs casually. “But you don’t hear me bragging.”

“You just did,” Sandra snorts, looping the garish scarf around her neck.

“Oh, I know all about your divine barriers , Alexandra,” Rocks snaps, her face flashing with heat. “Like when you nearly killed me with them, remember? And despite our forgiveness, you’re still standing here giving me sass?”

Princesa’s breath hitches. Her fists clench, and through our bond, I feel her silver fury surge.

“Listen—” she starts, voice tight.

I shoot her a look—cold, silent, and heavy as the volcanic Peaks of Scarn.

“Um...” Her gaze drops to the shimmer of Elerium and diamonds on her fingers. “I may have... slightly overreacted.” Her voice a squirming whisper.

“Slightly?” Sandra cuts in, barking a sardonic laugh. “What’s major then—a nuclear bomb?”

“Okay, fine ,” Princesa snaps, aggressively petting Todd, whose mirror rune pulses with dull silver light.

“I overreacted. A lot.” Her voice softens.

“I just...” She trails off, eyes unfocusing.

“I got a teeny tiny bit jealous. You know, because of the vote and Turncoat Sandra.” Her breath catches.

“Maybe you were where I wanted to be... things got messy. But I’m glad you didn’t. .. you know. Pop .”

Rocks chuckles. “I forgot what it’s like to talk to someone and not hear their thoughts.

” She smiles at Princesa, gentler now. “It’s actually kind of refreshing.

” Her gaze flicks to Sandra. “I always hoped we’d all be friends.

Three Earth girls lost in space and tangled up in Klendathian madness.

” She smirks toward Krogoth and me. “Some of us very tangled. So Alexandra, I hope we can move on as friends and fellow Chieftainesses.”

Princesa’s grin flickers back. “My friends call me Lexie,” she says, leaning forward. “And this adorable love-nugget is Todd. The Divine Cherub.” She lowers her voice, shielding her mouth. “He’s a bit cranky today. Pancake overdose.”

“Ah!” Rocks exclaims, reaching an arm out. “He’s so—uh... cute . With his... twitching little legs and... shiny rubberiness.” Her lips pinch as Todd blinks a baleful eye at her, mandibles clacking in what might pass as grubby outrage.

“Isn’t he though?” Princesa beams, hugging him tightly to her chest.

“The wee haggis keeps dropping turd-bombs in my boots,” Sandra groans, flicking her orange hair out of her eyes. “I’ve no idea how he keeps skittering into my room.” She shoots my Princesa an accusing glare.

“It’s because he adores his Auntie,” Princesa coos, smothering Todd in affection until he lets out a protesting croak. “Yes you do, my little bug-burrito.”

“Cyloillar’s skulls are sometimes used as drinking cups, right Korgy?” Rocks asks, casually glancing up at him.

“During the Proving,” Krogoth nods, eyeing Todd thoughtfully. “And as sustenance for the desperate. Though I’ve never seen one so... engorged.”

Princesa gasps, clutching Todd protectively. “Don’t listen to them, my little cherub! You’re perfect just the way you are.”

A faint creak twitches my ears—the vaunted platform embedded in the wall shifts. A reminder: the Nebians are close.

“Consul Juliara,” I growl, glancing toward Krogoth. “She gifted me the stun-ring. She seeks to replace you.” My fists tighten, the memory of her threat against my Princesa still burning. “Her next move may be direct aggression.”

“We know, brother,” Krogoth says with a grim smile, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. “She acts under the Imperator’s orders—though he’ll deny all involvement.”

“We knew everything from the start,” Rocks adds with a laugh, tapping her temple. “With Xandor’s foresight and my mind reading,” she sighs. “It was just a matter of making the right moves.” Her hazel eyes glint beneath the twin Elerium and sapphire spheres spinning overhead.

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” Princesa cuts in, raising a hand. “You knew everything? Even my...”—she clears her throat delicately—“schemes?”

Rocks nods, lips curled in a smug grin.

“Okay, I swear on Todd’s booties I won’t get mad, but—” Princesa gently strokes the grub’s squishy back, eyes narrowing beneath her lashes “—did you mess with the vote?”

“My lips are sealed,” Rocks says, dragging two fingers across her mouth with dramatic flair.

“Oh, come on! ” Princesa groans, whirling to glare at Voryx. “Hey! Surfer Bro!” she yells across the chamber, interrupting his hushed talk with Chieftain Aelioth. “Who actually got your vote?”

Voryx freezes like he’s just stumbled into a den of angry venefexes. His gray eyes dart between the two glowering Earth women.

“Uh...” he stutters, blue top-knot quivering like his pathetic heart. “Well... you see...” His gaze flicks to Krogoth and me, as if we might provide covering fire.

The cowardly letch is lucky I let him keep his head.

“I don’t recall,” he finally blurts, barking a desperate laugh and scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Princesa sighs, tossing her blonde hair as she mutters. “This humble pie tastes really bitter, Dracoth.” She glances up at me, expression sulky.

“You show restraint worthy of a true Chieftainess,” I growl, tone flat, though pride coils warm in my chest.

Princesa brightens instantly. “Yeah, I totally do.” She chuckles, fluttering her white-scaled sneachir cloak like a war banner in a storm.

“Rest easy,” Krogoth rumbles. “Things are as they should be. The Imperator and his Consuls will not move against us. Not openly.” His fangs flash as his face hardens. “They need us more than they’ll ever know.”

I nod, feeling a pressure lift that I hadn’t even known I carried.

Princesa places a hand to her scorched runic skin. “Well, good. Because I’m rather fond of this—”

Movement cuts her off.

Nebians pour into the chamber—laser rifles, violet-plated Battlesuits, forming a tight perimeter.

Obvious. Blunt. A disgrace to supposed allies. It reeks of fear, thinly veiled by pomp.

Consul Catokar and Juliara enter next, noses held high despite their tiny stature. Juliara sneers as she passes us, her blonde braid swinging like a challenge.

“All rise for Imperator Bulba,” booms a mechanized voice, echoing off stone and alloy, “Fourth of His Name. Protector of the Twin-Sunned Empire. Slayer of the Scythians!”

Bulba floats in atop a levitating disc, ascending toward the muraled ceiling—a battle of the heavens. He is the chief participant. His glowing Elerium eyes scan the chamber. Not warm this time. Hard. Cold. Measured.

The chamber shifts.

Stone statues embedded in the far wall groan to life. A portion slides forward, seamless and deliberate, forming a towering, tiered balcony draped in imperial purple, runes of gold gleaming in the spinning orange-blue spheres above.

“Papa Smurf looks pissed,” Princesa whispers, silver eyes dancing with mischief. “Guess we’ll cheer him up with the good news.”

The Imperator descends to the balcony’s apex, arms raised high. His twin-toned head-disc aligns perfectly with the painted twin stars above—as if he is their living symbol.

“Now,” Bulba says at last, smiling wearily as his gaze drifts between Krogoth and me, “Such a contest I’ve never seen in all my years. That you both stand before me, whole and hale, is truly a testament to Nebian medical genius, is it not?” One bushy white brow arches.

“Our thanks, Imperator,” Krogoth replies, casting a glance at the surrounding warriors and Battlesuits. “Your care and hospitality have been robust .” A smirk tugs at his lips.

“You bristle at our necessary precautions, High Chieftain?” Bulba snaps, heat seeping into his ancient voice. “Though I did not witness the contest in person, our readings suggest—” He turns to Consul Catokar, frowning. “How did those fools phrase it again?”

“They claim,” Catokar drawls, shaking his head with theatrical disdain, “Their speed and power output greatly exceeded natural limits .”

“Natural limits—exceeded!” Bulba repeats, throwing his stubby arms to the faux heavens above.

“And when I asked for a logical explanation , do you know what they—the greatest minds in the cosmos—told me?” He leans forward, not waiting for an answer.

“ Inconclusive .” He shakes his head, white hair drifting like falling snow. “Leoxius wept.”

“So forgive a little caution on my part, High Chieftain. Between your... vortexes and that barrier that trapped my starfighters...” He casts a sideways glance at Consul Juliara, whose lip is curled in disdain. “Some here believe we ought to leave you here. Quarantine the entire sector.”

“Their very existence is an affront to everything we hold dear,” Juliara snaps, jabbing a finger at Rocks, who’s tiptoeing to whisper into Krogoth’s ear. “That... human she did something to my mind. Something most invasive. Illogical .”

“You dare threaten us, Imperator?” Krogoth growls, his purple eyes narrowing. “Without us, your entire fleet would’ve been devoured in the Scythian tide.”

“Was it not Consul Juliara who merely voiced her opinion?” Bulba replies, placing a hand to his chest. “We are an enlightened people, after all— open to all viewpoints. Not as... entertaining as your Krak-Tok, I grant you.” He chuckles.

“The savage now claims sole credit for our fleet’s salvation,” Catokar huffs, flapping a dismissive hand as though shooing a nesting puffrio. “Dismissing your own brilliantly executed rear charge, Imperator.”

Bulba straightens, chest rising with self-importance. “Indeed, an exquisitely timed maneuver, if I do say myself. But let the artisans engrave our past glories. I’d rather speak of the future. ”

He turns again to Catokar. “Where are we? A split vote? An inconclusive duel—interrupted with both combatants collapsed mid-battle?”

Catokar nods. “Yes, Imper—”

“Krogoth was the victor,” I growl. “He is the—”

“ Silence! ” Consul Juliara bellows, her voice cracking like a thunderclap through the gilded chamber. “You grotesque, disobedient brute! ”

“I AM THE WAR CHIEFTAIN!” I roar, fury erupting from deep within, a volcano loosed. Crimson mist coils in the air as I advance. “And I will have your respect —or I will crack open your ribcage and hang your spine from my belt!”

“Imperator’s tits!” Catokar yelps, stumbling back alongside Juliara. Their blue faces blanch in terror.

“Oh my Gods , babes,” Princesa purrs, her pleasing curves draping over me. “That was so hot.”

“Well...” Bulba squeaks, then coughs and adjusts his robes. “Am I to understand you both retain your titles?” He glances between Krogoth and me, uncertainty wrinkling his weathered face.

“I will lead our proud warriors against the Scythians,” My voice is hard as tempered arcweave. “I will gift the victory your fragile hearts desperately crave.”

“But—but—” Juliara stammers, cowering behind the balcony’s rail. “Krogoth has the vortex tech—!”

I seize Stormcleaver , slamming it down in a thunderous arc. Sparks scream as the axe cleaves the enormous conference table—fashioned from twisted Scythian alloy—in two.

With a snarl, I raise the axe, projecting what Arawnoth’s light remains.

A ring of spinning flame blossoms along the edge of the weapon, casting a blazing corona around me.

The air shimmers like desert mirage, warping under the weapon’s molten heat.

Nebians stagger back, stubby hands shielding their eyes—not just from the light, but from the scorching air that scents of Arawnoth’s domain .

My crimson-silver eyes blaze like molten suns, as I stare them down—unyielding. Eternal.

“ Yay! Glowsticks! ” Princesa exclaims, clapping her hands with glee. “I think they’re getting bigger, babes,” she beams, eyes wide with delight.

Pride and fury surge in my chest, stoked by divine fire.

“Excellent!” Bulba claps. “Look at him, Consuls. He looks like he’s about to erupt. ” He turns toward me, smiling. “I wouldn’t want to be a Fallen standing in your path.”

He breathes deep, eyes gleaming. “Yes, despite the chaos, this has worked out splendidly . I will see your forces well-equipped—supported by my fleet.” A flicker of something older burns behind his Elerium gaze. “Then we’ll have our vengeance. And the Twin-Sunned Empire will rise again.”

I nod, molten fire and Rush bubbling through my veins like rivers of lava. The Scythians’ annihilation is within reach—and it will be ours.

Bulba turns to leave, robes swirling. Juliara lingers a heartbeat longer, her knuckles bleaching around the balcony rail. Until the Imperator halts in place.

“I must ask,” he says, voice quieting, almost reverent. “Leoxius’ First Principle demands it.” His eyes narrow, almost glowing. “These... abilities. These anomalies...” His expression sharpens, becomes something colder. “Truly— what is their source? ”

“That’s easy,” Princesa purrs, stepping forward with a wicked grin, her laughter dancing like sparks off metal. She tilts her chin high, fingers tracing the glowing runes now flaring on her chest and throat.

“We’re divine. ”