Page 65 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

Kriz

The three of us sit in the royal hall, Ra’al in the middle, Orr at the left, I at the right, as it’s always been.

The only difference now is the empty throne next to Ra’al’s.

The king and queen of this planet used to sit here and receive petitioners. Their ornate, jewel-encrusted blue-green thrones were taken away, stripped, and sold off in pieces to fund the war effort. In their places are the four black thrones, three sized for Aurelians, one built for her.

When the world is pacified, she will sit with us. Then we will be whole.

The throne room was built for Aurelians. The humans who demolished the original copied the design, seats packed in, looking up at the raised dais where the triad who ruled this planet sat. Now, the room is empty, the huge doors open and guarded by triads, who watch over the line of people who file out into the palace. Commoners, mostly, but some of the noblemen and women who stayed behind. Not all of the rich left. Some stayed to fight, and they get to keep their land and holdings, at least that which is not necessary for the war effort. There are squabbles and monetary concerns to be dealt with, and we must be fair but strong.

Petty concerns, but it is not their voices that matter. It is our presence. We must be seen ruling.

“What the hell do you mean, there’s one missing?” I glower down at the triad of Aurelians who interrupted the proceedings. Ra’al waves at the guards, and they shut the heavy doors heavily, concealing any other burst of anger.

The triad who reported to us are in their third century, men who should know better by now. Their brands are fresh and bare. They have yet to earn a single honor.

Orr is up from his seat, raising his hand to backhand the leader of the three. He stops his hand in the air, clenches his teeth, and sits back down, angry at himself for the outburst. This involves her—and with her, the stakes are at their highest.

I mute my emotions. I’m furious, but I cool it down to a cold anger.

I never lose control.

Except with her. She is my only release.

The leader of the triad is a thin man, with a wiry, hard build. The other two of his triad are bald and big, with bellies visible under their black togas, brawlers with dull eyes and strong jaws. One of the brawlers pipes up. “We did not think to place a guard. There was no reason to! There were a dozen other more valuable shipments, the road was safe, clear of Scorp, and after the attack, we were short-staffed.”

The leader of the triad raises his hand to silence him. He at least has the dignity to feel ashamed. “It is my fault. I will take the punishment.” He’s got a fresh scar on his neck, one that runs down his neck to his chest, hidden by the cloth of his toga. These three are administrators, dealing in the movement of the supply wagons, and he is not used to combat. He did not use the med-bay to erase the scar, wanting to show that he too was involved in the battle to protect this world.

My triad would have long, old cuts all over our bodies if we eschewed the med-bays.

These three don’t look like they’ve been through much.

“Rogue Aurelians,”I telepath to my triad, the thoughts filled with scorn.

They didn’t even serve their hundred years in the Aurelian army. They deserted and joined our order late, to find women and glory. These three are not worth much, but we need the bodies.

“You’re docked ten talons each.” Ra’al states the punishment coldly. Despair flashes on their faces, gone quickly as they hide their emotions. Aurelians learn from a young age to control emotions. Otherwise the drillmasters at academy beat them out of you.

These three would have rather had a hundred lashes. The auction will be tonight, and talons, won in combat, are the currency used to bid on the women who volunteer.

We have yet to tell our men that in a week, we will be at war again.

Let the troops who earned talons spend time with their new acquisitions. They earned their women, unlike the lazy Aurelians on Colossus who sit by the pools, their swords unused and dormant, their bodies weak and fat as they enjoy their retirement. Let the troops taste of the spoils of war, at least for a night.

Tomorrow they can be sharpened again. There were far more volunteers than needed, women flocking to offer themselves, craving the safety only a triad of Aurelians can give after the terror of the Scorp attacks. I pray their new triads will return from battle, but when we strike at the Aurelian Empire, the only thing certain is that many will die. Brother will fight against brother, Orb-Blade striking Orb-Blade.

The Aurelian Empire is weak and degenerate. Only strength can bring it down, that a new order can rise from the ashes.

“Only one woman was taken. The others arrived safely.” Ra’al speaks the words with infinite calmness, used to the burden of leadership. “What did the other servants report of the attack?”

“They said it wasn’t an attack. No weapons were drawn. The wagon was automated to come to the city. They came in, faces covered, grabbed the woman, and left. It happened quick.”

“Get reports back. There will be a missing triad.” There’s an edge of anger in his aura, but his voice is flat. He should not have had to tell them. My frustration is rising, and I ache to unleash it on her. That moment in the pleasure room when she told me to let go and I did was the purest of my life. I’ve neverbeenwithout my thoughts running through my mind. I’ve never existed in a state of pure perfection, not even in battle, where Orr finds his release. My own being was pent up. Restrained. Until I met her, and she taught me to be free.

“Sir, there are many missing triads after the battle… we still don’t have a full count and…” The Aurelian’s voice wavers.

Ra’al’s aura spikes with annoyance. “First look for a triad that reported back after the initial assault, then went missing. Afterwards, extend the search.” He’s angry, wanting to ask them if they need his counsel in putting their robes on in the morning or if they can at least do that themselves, but he keeps control over his emotions outwardly.

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