Page 88 of Sawoots Story

Somehow, she managed to work with them, instead of being dominated and controlled by Emperor Raegan and his battle-brothers.

She’s a strong woman, whip-smart, and she’s not as demure and submissive as she used to pretend. Or maybe being demure and submissive have nothing to do with getting results.

I trust her about as far as I can throw her and her five-hundred-pound alien protectors.

My mind’s going a mile a minute, trying to predict what the inscrutable queen and her hard-faced triad will decide.

The last three days haven’t just been a flurry of activity on the station. The Aurelian Empire mobilized instantly, sending warships and Reavers to all reaches of their outer perimeters. If the Separatists don’t show up, the Scorp will, and those most vulnerable planets were in need of protection.

They moved so fast to guard against Wild Space where the Separatists may be lurking it seemed almost like theyknewthe Priests were going to split off. I guess we all predicted it, vaguely, but it seems so neat and tidy.

The coliseum is packed. Elites sit in the prime spots. The Orb-Armor that marks their station sucks up the light of the sun. The holo-vid can’t quite capture the might of the Orbs, and I’m glad for it. It’s hard enough being with my triad who take their weapons everywhere, even putting them down inside of the pleasure room.

Aurelians of all stations, from youths yet to go out on their hundred years of service, to army generals and strategists, stand and watch. It’s so sad how Aurelians are raised. They never know their own father, for to have an Aurelian born of the cryo-chambers, the first must die. They grow up indoctrinated by the warlike society, perfect weapons to be wielded for the good of the Empire.

Maybe not so perfect after all. Even all their indoctrination couldn’t stop a third from choosing a different path.

Above the coliseum, Reavers dart and weave, sometimes blocking the view of the arena below. This would be the perfect time for the Separatists to attack to deal a crushing blow to the Aurelian Empire. They’re taking no chances with the defenses.

The sand thirsts for blood. It looks like a canvas without a drop of paint, just waiting for something to be created on it.

A stone balcony dominates the coliseum. The drones aim at Queen Jasmine as she enters the coliseum, flanked by her triad. The four of them are in custom-made Orb-Armor. I’ve never seen a set designed for a human woman. It gives her a defiant air. Even with all the security at the coliseum, only two of her sons enter after her. They’re nearly old enough to do their hundred years of service, as if she would ever risk her own blood. No - the oldest one, he should have just started his hundred years, or be a decade into it. Did his parents let him in the military or do they keep him coddled and safe? They’re tall, handsome, and old beyond their years. The rest of her offspring must be in secret locations, so that if Colossus falls, they will come back to retake the Empire.

I don’t know the official count now. Ten? A dozen? I can’t imagine the pride and joy she feels with her sons. I never thought something like this was possible. Children were always a far-off thought. If you can’t even guarantee your own safety past the next twenty-four hours, there’s no way you could bring another life into this world.

I press back against my triad, jealous of Queen Jasmine. She has what I crave the most. Not power. Not responsibility.

A family.

Behind Queen Jasmine stands Emperor Raegan and his battle brothers, Karan and Baldur. Their faces have lost the glow of youth. They are set in the hard wisdom of age.

There’s a creak as the portcullis opens from one side of the arena. Even with all their alien technology, the Arena of the Gods is simple. Three Aurelians stride into the pit.

“The smugglers,” says Larixa as she leans forward for a better view.

It’s been rumored that the Aurelian Triad found on the Toad mothership were working with the cowardly species.

I hope it’s not true. If it is, nothing will save them. I’ll watch three proud, fearless men cut down in front of me.

“They haven’t been judged yet,” replies Theme. If it’s true the Aurelian triad was bringing in huge shipments of credits from the Toad Kingdom to the Priests to fund the rebellion? Judgment will be swift.

The Aurelian Empire was cleaved in two.

Someone will pay. The sands of the arena will be soaked in blood.

Tar’ank runs his hand through my hair, gently rubbing my scalp. His aura is humming with anticipation. We’re all on the razor’s edge as the three hulking Aurelians stride to the middle of the arena.

They are clad in battle-armor. An Orb-Blade would cleave through it like parchment if they chose trial by combat. The arena is buzzing with excitement. The species tries to keep its emotions muted, not wanting to look weak, but some of the younger Aurelians can’t help themselves, pointing down to the triad below.

The Aurelians look up, and I follow their gaze to one of the smaller balconies connected to Queen Jasmine’s royal perch by stone walkways.

On it stands a lonely, beautiful woman in a flowing white dress. She looks like she’s ready for a wedding, not an execution.

I know instantly she’s Bonded to the triad below. I can’t imagine the fear in her mind. I imagine my perfect, powerful men standing there to face judgement. The feeling of helplessness, unable to do anything to protect the men who mean everything to me.

Queen Jasmine raises her hand. The silence is instant. The Loyalists have intense respect for her. I saw how brutal Captain Aelon had to be to keep the testosterone-fueled warriors in line. Queen Jasmine does with a single movement what Aelon had to do with an Orb-Blade and a summary execution.

“We are fractured.” Her voice rings out, echoing through the arena. It’s amplified so every man in the coliseum can hear her as though she stands next to them, and news drones transmit it to the trillions of people throughout the universe.

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