“I worked with them. They’re not spies or something!”
“No.” Just that one syllable, and it’s over. There’s a flash in his aura. He’s not used to having to repeat himself.
“Could I at least see Kat? Maybe she could come here?”
Ra’al nods. “That can be arranged.”
I gulp, taking a step back. “Okay. Well, when it’s safe, I’m looking forward to seeing the others.” The ceiling is high, but it feels lower, the weight of a thousand feet of stone and metal bearing down on me. I’m trapped here, and I can’t leave, unless they let me. They could keep me down here for a century and there’s nothing I could do. I’ve never been so powerless. When I was serving at Paulus’s estate, I always knew there was an end to it.
Now my life stretches out in front of me, and I’m linked to these three warlords. That will be constant, until death.
“Do you have all you need?”
I nod, nervous. “Yes. Thank you for breakfast.” Kriz gets up from the bench, walking in towards me. The three huge men make the room feel tiny. My eyes get wet with the intensity of it all.
“What is wrong?” Ra’al’s brows furrow in worry. He can sense my discomfort through the Bond. I try to mute my emotions, but it’s no use.
“Whoareyou?” I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “Sorry, I mean, I’m just…everything just happened so fast.”
“You can feel who I am.” There is no hesitation in Ra’al’s answer.
He steps forward, and I step back. “Rachel. It’s okay. Reach out in your mind.”
I close my eyes, focusing in on the little pinprick that is him in my mind. I was trying to ignore their being in my head. It scares me. His being grows, a chaotic storm of strength and pain, but through it, there is a steady thrum of protectiveness.
I open my eyes, and he’s in front of me, staring down. “What made you like this?”
He reaches up gently, running his hand against my cheek. His skin is calloused from gripping the shaft of his blade. “There are some things I would spare you from.”
I take a deep breath in. “If I am to be with you three for the rest of my life. I need to know.”
“Please sit. Put your back against the wall.”
I step back until my back hits the wall, and lower myself to the ground, sitting cross-legged. I smooth my cotton dress over my thighs. It’s thick, honest material. I’m used to it after all these years.
Orr barks something out in Aurelian, arguing with his leader. “She deserves to know,” replies Ra’al simply and sits down in front of me.
Even sitting, he is a towering, big beast of a man. I like him clean shaved, his anvil of a jaw so sturdy and strong. His eyes are the purest silver, but they are deep and pained, staring into me with his own personal hurt. His aura seems to stroke my mind, and I know he’s focusing in on me, feeling my emotions.
It’s hard to meet his stare. I want to look away, but I force myself to maintain eye contact.
“Close your eyes,” he says, his voice deep and hypnotic, and I obey.
At first, there is only darkness.
Then a memory hits me like an asteroid piercing through a ship’s armor. It’s as if it is my own memory, but I am staring out through alien eyes.
A glass door opens and I step out of a strange cylinder, clear fluid splashing against the floor. To my right and left, there are thousands of cylinders. Some have boys, others babies, growing in the artificial wombs the species has to use in the absence of Mates. My arms are soaking wet. I nearly stumble, but I stand tall and proud, as an Aurelian steps towards me.
He is towering, much taller than me, and he holds the hilt of a blade.
“I fought with your father. He was strong. He died with his blade in his hands, and he asked me to give it to you with his last breath.” I have no memories. It’s a blank slate, but I reach up, taking the hilt.
It feels natural in my hands. I will it to become what it is meant to be, and the long, black blade extends outwards, rippling blue-black energy sparking from it. There is an Orb in the hilt. It yearns for blood, but it has been mastered.
I know only one thing.
My blade will go where I will it.