Page 81 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

“They’re old. If you jail them even for a year, it could be a death sentence.”I telepath to my triad, reminding them that the years for humans are far different than that of an Aurelian. Ra’al gives me the mental version of a nod.

“Your titles and lands are stripped. Your estate is to be given to the servants you abandoned. You will live in the common quarters.”

The couple freeze, waiting for more. The old lady bites her lip in terror.

“That is all.”

They slump in relief. They knew they’d lose their house when they came back to Trebulous after hiding just outside of the atmosphere, as far as their little shuttle would take them. They thought they would lose their life, but they were out of supplies and desperate, so they returned to face judgment.

“You let them go easily,”Orr telepaths, grunting disdainfully.

“They are old. They were scared.”“Dismissed,” finishes Ra’al, and the old couple walks away, the next petitioner bowing deeply in front of us.

He’s dressed gaudily, in his mid-thirties, with a velvet long-sleeve shirt and a comb-over that becomes ridiculously obvious in his grandiose bow. “My kings, my queen,” he says from his bow, then stands straight, with an embarrassed sort of smile, as if he is ashamed to be wasting our time. “Thank you so much for granting me an audience. It’s a matter of a small family-run factory, which belonged to my parents. You see—”

Orr has his hand up in a fist, and the man silences instantly. “Civil matters of property go to the adjudicators.”

“Well, that’s just it, my King, unfortunately, my family didn’t see fit to take me with them when they left, or even”—he clears his throat—“put me on any of the deeds. So I did stay behind, and I fought valiantly against the Scorp with everything I could muster—”

Ra’al’s aura turns ice cold. “Clear the room,” he intones, and the guards bustle people out, the man blustering as he’s taken away. It’s just the four of us. He barks an order into his smartwatch in Aurelian, and I pick up a couple words:secureandwalk.

“Rachel, would you take your evening walk a little early today?”

“Yes, but why?”

His silver eyes flash. “Obsidian calls. We must answer.”

Panic fills me. The last four weeks passed by in a blink, four weeks that almost felt like it could be forever.

I run to Ra’al, grabbing the sleeve of his robe. “Ra’al, don’t go, don’t go, tell him you can’t, please,” I say. I tried to force down these emotions, not even thinking of it for the last four weeks, but now they bubble up.

I can’t go back into the darkness, the panic that slowly dulls, become endless emptiness until they come back.

“I must, my Mate.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything. You left the Aurelian Empire to save me, didn’t you? Isn’t that why you left?”

“I left because ten billion people died when they didn’t have to. I left to save you, and others.”

“You have me. You’ve got me, Ra’al. Someone else can lead the attack.”

“I have you. And I must keep you safe. While the Queen and her Emperors are on the throne in Colossus, nowhere is safe for the Bonded Mate of a triad against them.”

The three men stride off, their auras becoming cold and focused.

I sit back on the throne. My legs don’t feel strong enough to walk.

I’m alone in the room, while the three men linked to me speak with their War-God, the one force that can tear them from my side.

31

Rachel

My heart doesn’t pound. It’s slow. Rhythmic. My breathing is controlled. My emotions are numb. I learned that numbness. I practiced it every day, to prepare for when they had to go. They spent the last two weeks barely seeing me. I watched from the ramparts of the castle as they addressed their troops, watching the triad walking, so small from high above, as they oversaw training grounds and checked over ships.

They stood in front of thousands of soldiers, many with brands on their foreheads. Those men looked like killing machines. Young. Lean. Hungry for war, for conquest and glory, and to find their mate.

Each night they come back to me. Since the day they took me on the wall, they’ve been insatiable. We don’t spend much time speaking. We fuck like animals, our bodies sweaty and desperate, but each time, it ends with a pang, the Bond still alive and ready to thrum at any second. Kriz told me that the seed will take root when it’s willed. That a Bonded Mate must open herself to it. Maybe they sense that I’m distant when we’re together. Maybe they feel that I’m not fully theirs, but they don’t have time to speak of it, not with the next battle looming in front of them.

---