Page 50 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

“Wonder if they’re still good? These must date pre-Independence, but if this is a bunker, they should be made to last,” says Nash, taking the ration from Raneeda. Nash reaches into her servant robe to a pocket, pulling out a straight razor. “I grabbed this when the tower started getting hit. I thought another Org-Ship might have collided with the spire, and I wasn’t going down without a fight.”

She slices open the ration. To my surprise, the delicious smell of meat and spice fills the air. I’m practically drooling. Nash cuts off a little piece, holding it up and inspecting it. “I’ll test it,” she says.

“What if it’s poison after all these years?” asks Raneeda, but she can’t help but lick her lips.

I step in. “Wait. Don’t taste it. We’ll take the first bite together. If one of us is killed by a stupid little ration after surviving everything else, we all should.”

Raneeda nods. Nash grins wryly. “That would be fate,” she says, and saws the thick ration into three pieces. It looks like beef jerky, but it’s tinged a deep red, and as she cuts, I get more of the spicy scent.

We each take our piece and share a glance. Then as one, we bite in. It’s chewy and tough, but it’s good. We make happy sounds as we enjoy it, each swallowing and getting another bite…

When the spicy taste starts to get more intense.

As one, we look up at each other, our shock mirrored in each other’s eyes.

The spice.

It starts out as a slow burn. Then it heats up.

“Oh Gods. Why is it so spicy?” Says Nash.

“It’s not that bad,” says Raneeda, sniffing it, and even daring to take another nibble. Then she winces. “Oh, it’s getting worse. Is there any juice or something?”

“Quick, look in the chests for something to drink,” says Nash, rushing to the next crate over. She opens it. More food. I throw the third one open. This one has plain, dense black calorie bars. I’m starting to sweat. The damn spice tricked me, mild at first, but getting worse by the second.

I open the next chest. To my anger, it’s more of the dark red meat. “Did the chilis get stronger over time or something?” I moan in pain, looking left and right. There’s a replicator that might spit out soup if we ask it, but there’s not even sinks to drown my mouth with water.

“Maybe—ah! Maybe Aurelians don’t feel spice like we do? I’m on fire!” Nash groans, opening another crate.

“The rooms up there. They’ve got bathrooms,” I yell, pointing to the hallway I explored.

“Doesn’t water just make spice way worse?” groans Raneeda, grabbing at her mouth like she can stop it with her hands. “The wine, maybe that’ll help,” she gasps. We’re all sweating profusely. My plain white dress is sticking to my body, and the three of us take off at a run. I don’t know if her water theory is right, and I’m not going to risk it when wine is closer.

I get there first. The three of us squat around the bottom of the barrel, the last piece of it that is intact, and cup our hands, drinking greedily. Our white robes are getting comically stained, but none of us care.

Raneeda takes a big gulp of wine, gargles it, and the three of us burst out laughing, spraying wine everywhere. The wine’s dulled the fire of the spice, but it’s also dulled my senses. My head is swimming. One bite of food and a dozen big gulps of wine, and we’re all drunk.

“Oh, that’s so much better. But I’m dizzy. My lady,” says Raneeda, laughing. I give her a push, and she tumbles over, splashing in the puddle of wine. Her white robe is completely soaked, her cheeks flush.

“I said, no more of thatmy ladybullshit.”

“That’s right, Raneeda. Don’t piss our Queen off!” laughs Nash, cackling as she leans away from me before I can push her over. She burps. She’s done up perfectly, her make-up and hair somehow still flawless after a bombardment, and it’s hilarious to see her drunk.

We all start laughing and can’t stop. I’m practically hyperventilating, gasping for air between peals of laughter. I don’t know why, but after all the stress and pain, the entire situation is the funniest thing in the world to me.

Then we all gasp at once as we hear the rumble.

The tunnel opens up again, and at the base of the stairs, are the three Aurelians. The triad marches in, looking at us with confusion as we take our seats on the bench, trying to appear less drunk than we are.

“What the hell happened here?” Ra’al barks out the question, but he’s not angry, just confused. Kriz has his thick brows furrowed, looking down with the oddest expression, the confusion comical on the stern warrior’s faces.

“The rations. Spicy. Too spicy. We had to drink something,” I reply, catching my breath after the laughing fit.

“You’re drunk. You’re going to hurt yourself. There’s a bedroom at the far end—can you walk?”

“Of course,” I say, getting up and promptly slipping in the wine. Kriz catches me before I fall. “Alright, you,” he says, shaking his head and walking me down the hallway.

“Wait, what about the other two? I don’t want them far from me.” Kriz pauses.

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