Page 70 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

I wrack my brain, and it’s there. Long ago. Chatting with other servants, Kat there, sitting easily, apart from us as usual, yet occasionally joining in the conversation. We were all saying how many years we had left. All the plans. Macey talked about opening a flower shop, her eyes lighting up when she talked about using the end-of-term bonus to buy rare seeds that have never been grown on Trebulous. Summer—what did Summer what? Oh yes, that was it. She wanted to get back to accounting, her degree halted by the contract, working for herself, taking contracts as she pleased.

And when it was my turn, I leaned back in my chair with a big grin and said I’d do nothing, or anything, whatever I wanted, because I’d be free.

Kat leans in closer to me. “They projected you out to the universe. I didn’t watch, but many did. Aurelians on Colossus were watching you get bred. You’re propaganda. That silver collar around your neck? Their eyes changing, live on satellite field to the universe? They’re trying to get Empire Aurelians to desert, because the only thing they crave more than honor is a Mate.”

“That’s not true!” I get angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. They care about me.”

“I don’t doubt that. Look, if you change your mind, the ship will be there. Bay 2, the blue ship. I can keep it for…maybe a month before someone checks it out and sees its operational. Don’t wait too long, okay? There will be more troops coming in soon. Your triad and his men were crazy enough to Orb-Shift, but others will be flying in standard, I’m sure of it.”

“How can you know?”

“Because this is war, Rachel.”

My hand shakes as I reach up, taking a strand of my hair. I pull, hard, relishing the flash of pain. I slide it across the table. It disappears in her jeans, and we sit in silence for a long, awkward moment. Kat lifts her bowl to her face, drinking the last of the broth, and sets it down hard.

“Damn, but this was good,” she says, changing the topic. It’s like our conversation never happened…

But there’s a strand of my hair in her pocket.

She leans back, relaxing. “It’s nice to rest. I’ve been working, barely sleeping, cause it feels good to be doing something productive. You know, I only took the job with Paulus because it paid so well, but it was a waste. I wonder what Princess Bitch is doing now?”

“I’ve got not idea. Probably making life miserable for everyone around her.”

Kat snorts. “That’s a good bet.”

I shrug. “I guess they either went to Human Alliance or Aurelian territory, whatever seemed safest.”

“That’s a damn hard choice. Humans, where you have to be worried the Scorp will come, and Aurelian, with the war about to really start. Shit, let’s stop talking about all this dark stuff,” she says, patting her stomach. She grins. “That hug of yours nearly broke my ribs. You’re a hell of a lot stronger. Let’s see how much. I’m guessing the meatheads who designed this place made a gym, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Which hallway? The left one or the right?”

“Right.”

She winks. “Race you to it,” she says, and darts off, her feet pounding the ground as she takes off in a sprint.

I’ve barely run since I was a kid, racing around the space station. She’s got a lead on me, the athletic woman sprinting through the hallway before I can even get off my feet, but I take off after her.

To my surprise, I catch up right at the entrance hall. She’s breathing hard, and I’m barely winded.

She lets out a low whistle. “You weren’t always this fast, were you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ve got to find a triad to Bond to me. I’ll take their speed and strength and leave them heartbroken,” she says with a grin. “Lead the way.”

We walk up the wide hallway to the training room, with its tall, metal ceiling and strange contraptions. The triad of training robots is dormant, staring blankly forward out of dull eyes, their tireless hands holding up their swords. “Stay away from those things, they’re deadly,” I warn, and Kat strides around the marked square in the center of the room, walking to the right side, and sets up in front of one of the twenty floating figures.

She spins, and cracks that back of her heel against the black form of the figure. It thuds dully, and she gives it an approving pat. “It feels just like when you kick someone.”

“Who have you been kicking?”

“Slackers at work. You want to take a turn?”

I shake my head. “No thanks. Too violent for me.”

“Alright then.” She walks across the square in the center, running her finger over one of the training robots while I wince, and I sit on one of the benches in front of the black cubes on the ground. “So what are these? Tiny weights?”

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