Page 53 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

Obsidian stands before me at his full height. I am not a small man, standing tall even among Aurelians, but he is a War-God, over eight feet of tortured beast. His skin is as pale as mine, but his heart pumps blood as black as oil. When I was tattooed, I felt the sheer agony of his being. He feels it always.

Stalking around him, blinking in and out of the feed, are his battle-brothers. They are Shadow wolves, enormous creatures with black fangs that can pierce through armor. Perhaps in that form, they are more animal than man. Perhaps that blunts the pain of what happened to them.

They found their Mate.

They bred her. They filled her with their seed, and it came to root.

Then she was snatched from them. His Mate is now on Colossus, clutched by the false Queen.

Behind him are two triads, fainter. Priests. They have stars flickering over their faces as the holographic projection of the universe swirls behind them. They stare with cold intensity, ancient warriors who plotted in the shadows for centuries. These are the ones who should play the spy games, not I, but putting a triad of Priests in charge of billions of humans would betray everything I hold dear. The Priests view humanity as pawns, to be used.

“General Ra’al. General Orr. General Kriz.” Obsidian’s voice is dark and deep. His eyes are pure black, swirling with stars, his gaze alien even to me. Those eyes can stare through space and time, guiding us through the rift. He is the reason I have my Mate.

He is the reason I may lose her.

“Yes, my lord.”

Obsidian stands in front of a holographic projection of the universe, split into the four territories—Wild Space, unconquered by any, and belonging to the Scorp. The Toad Kingdom, where the foul king rules while his ten highest ranking men, his Fingers, squabble for power below. The Aurelian Empire, where Queen Jasmine sits on her throne, playing with the lives of trillions and holding Obsidian’s pregnant wife captive.

And the new space, belonging to Obsidian. While the others shrink or stay stable, his domain grows, a gloved fist clenching planets and bringing them under the fold.

“You have done well. You saved many lives. You have established a striking point for our operations.”

He brings Trebulous into focus. On either side of the sector, two other planets that were in the path of Scorp have been taken under his banner. We’re close to the Aurelian Empire, within striking distance.

“By your guidance, my lord, we survived the rift. The Matador took heavy damage. The Orb-Shift was not flawless, and it crashed hard, but it survived the impact. We lost sixteen full triads in the crash. More died in battle. I will have a full report by morning.”

“I have been given word there was a rebel attack.”

“We found the culprits. I am now doing an investigation, to see how many other operatives have been planted.”

Obsidian pauses, thinking, when the two triads of Priests step forward. The oldest has a long, white beard. It has grown thin with age, hanging down from his gaunt, skeletal face like lichen.

“You have not done justice.” He wheezes the words out in High Aurelian. His lips are pale and thin, and when he speaks, his teeth are like rows of tombstones.

“We subdued the rebellion. All but four were killed in combat. I executed them today, all but one. Nothing more than a boy. Sixteen perhaps. A babe.”

“You must kill one hundred humans for each Priest that dies. You must kill the family of the murderers. Their friends. Anyone who knows them. Let each act of violence be met a hundred-fold in return.” He gasps and wheezes for air, but his eyes are vital and cruel. “String the boy up by his guts.”

Obsidian raises his hand. “General Ra’al. You rule the planet. It is your decision.”

“Obsidian! Three of the holy order died! You cannot—”

“Do not tell me what I cannot do. Leave. Now.”

The ancient Priests stare at him with flashes of hostility, then file out of the room, disappearing from the video feed.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“You won your Mate.” His two Shadow wolves snarl at the word.

“Yes. With your guidance, my Lord.”

“With my guidance. Yes. Do not forget that, Ra’al. I too won my Mate. I lost her. Can I trust you to lead the strike to win her back?”

I think of Rachel, hidden away in the deepest recesses of the castle. I’m meant to be by her side, protecting her.

I can’t keep her safe on Trebulous. Nowhere is safe until the Aurelian Empire is crushed. Even now, they may be massing troops, to strike this planet once they have word that we conquered it.

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