Page 95 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

My hand is on my blade, though he’s not in the room with me. My mind races to the men in the castle. The ones under my command would rally to my side, even if it meant defying the War-God. But he’s reinforced the planet with thousands of triads with branded foreheads, men who would do anything he commands—even cutting down a twice-honored General, without thought.

I think to the planet of Elsinor. I fought and bled in those streets. I looked up at windows, closed and shuttered, blinds drawn, and I could smell the yellow stink of terror from the hiding humans. That terror would be even more intense in the moments before the orbital bombardment.

“Obsidian. Let me protect Elsinor!”

“You have lost that honor. You lied.”

“To save her!” I step forward, closer to him, so that we are staring eye to eye. “My Lord, I joined your forces because the Aurelian Empire did not protect Abascus. I got there too late because of my own weakness. I should have cut down the command and taken the ship myself. I’ve given everything. Let me lead!” My boom out the last words, remembering the sun-bleached bones.

“My men reported from the meeting. You did everything to stop triads from volunteering. Now each of those men will have deaths on their conscience if her flagships survived, just as you do. You damned those triads to agony, if Krazak and his triad of deserters fail the mission. You trusted an entire planet on a triad of Scorp-Blooded madmen. I needed cold and calculating. You gave me fire.”

I meet his black gaze. I will not back down, but his words hit me like blows.

Because I know they’re true.

“You’re no longer the weapon I need you to be, Ra’al. I should take your head, but I will not, because you are still valuable. You have your Mate on Trebulous now. Protect this planet. Hold the line. It will be our staging ground for the war.”

“My Lord…” I’m flooded with relief, and my hand leaves my blade. I had pictured wading through blood as I fought my way to the throne room, to throw her over my shoulder and escape with her, no matter how many twice-branded Fanatics I had to cut through.

“Ra’al. Answer me, Do you truly want to go? Or do you want to be with your Mate? Tell me now, Ra’al. Tell me if I should entrust Elsinor to you or to another.”

I look to my battle-brothers. They are tense, waiting for my decision that will damn us, or damn a planet.

“Choose another.”

He nods, and the rage vanishes from his eyes, replaced by something else—a flash of sorrow and longing, gone as soon as it came.

“Defend the planet. Make the crops bountiful and keep the factories running around the clock to provide for the war. Queen Jasmine’s forces may come. On that day, every life on Trebulous will depend on you. Do not make me regret this.”

“Yes, my—” Obsidian cuts off the communication with a wave, and it’s just us, alone in a room.

I stand, rocked. I didn’t know how I was going to get into the pilot’s seat of a warship and brave the rift again, leaving her behind. I didn’t know how I would find the strength.

I’ve lived with responsibility my entire life, and now it’s stripped of me, the weight of billions taken off my back.

“He did it for us.” Orr chews over his words.

I turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“He freed of us of duty.”

I shake my head. “He was furious. We were lucky we don’t have to fight our way out of here. A threat to his war effort is a fate to his Mate.”

Kriz puts his hand on my shoulder. “We were the only people in the universe akin to him. The only other triad who has lost a Bonded Mate. Now he sees the truth. He knows we cannot be weapons with so much to lose.”

“It doesn’t matter why he did it. He did it.” Orr activates his Orb-Blade, humming to life. “And if he lied, and he has triads waiting for us outside, I’ll go through them to her.” He rushes to the door, but I stop him.

“I go first.”

I draw my blade and kick open the door.

The halls are empty. There are few left in the palace. Except for a skeleton force, the main bulk of the army is loading up into the warships in the field. A manservant walks around the corner, sees our blades, and runs away, dropping towels to the ground.

“Go to her,” I say, and my triad looks at me, confused.

“You’re not coming?”

“I have something to get.” Their eyes flash in understanding, and I sheathe my blade, running at a full sprint down to the bunker and back up the stairs. I’m not even winded when I get to the throne room, the Bond strengthening me eternally.

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