Page 49 of Broken Triad

“Because you’re still being searched for. They’ve never given up. Ra’al made a promise to his Mate, and he won’t rest until you’re safe.”

“Could I tell them I’m okay? That I don’t mind, or…” I trail off.

“No. Because we did kidnap you. He demands total control of his troops. He’s leading Fanatics, men who were promised by the Priests that any woman they took in battle would be their possession. Obsidian ruled against them—and he has to punish wrongdoing with an iron fist.”

Then how is there any future between us, if being seen in public means you’ll be executed?

I don’t think about that. Moments don’t last forever, but they do happen, and any precious time spent is worth something. I have to believe that, or nothing matters at all.

“Let’s go,” says Krazak, ending the discussion, sliding over the side of the cliff face. He ignores the ladder, clambering down, but Bolden takes it. Is it my imagination, or is he favoring his left leg, putting more weight on it than the right?

“Try the ladder,” says Khra, as Bolden and Krazak wait below, looking up. The drop is sheer, but I know they’d catch me.

I’ve got to look confident on the ladder, or else he might take it with him, so I force down my nervousness, putting my booted feet on the rung. To my surprise, the rungs of the ladder stick to them, releasing as I pull away. I grab with my hands, and it makes me feel like a spider climbing a wall, the ladder rungs sticking to my hands as I grip them, so that I’m totally secure as I make my way down. I can do it one foot at a time to be cautious, releasing with one while my other three holding onto the ladder are helped by the alien technology, and make my way down until I’m at the base, near the water.

I looked down on these waters so many times, remembering how the three of them claimed me here. There’s a rush of anticipation throughout my body, this tingling ache for the three men as my being craves them. Krazak walks to where the pool ends, constricting into the stream, and extends his hand to help me cross it.

“No, I need to be able to do it myself,” I say, and walk over the three-foot gap at the thinnest part, so I’m back in the clearing. Khra follows me onto the stone ground.

I was here not long ago, surrounded by the three masked men, knowing them despite their shrouded faces, filled with fear and anticipation. It’s hard to believe they are my captors.

“It’s an hour walk to the transport ship. Shall I carry you?” asks Khra, ready to kneel down for me to clamber onto his back.

“No, I’ve been cooped up,” I say. “But thanks.”

We walk as three, Krazak in the lead, with Bolden and Khra fanning out on either side, so that I am protected, an arrow of alien warriors surrounding me as we hike through the dense forest. I nearly stumble over a vine, and Khra grabs my hand, giving me certainty until the forest thins and we get out in the hills. The Royal Palace’s spire is still damaged, but there’s no more smoke over the city.

If the aliens never came, there would be nothing here but empty buildings, every last life snuffed out. I smile as I look up at Khra’s power, the hard lines of his face, his endless strength, and I know he was part of that rescue effort.

If it wasn’t for these three, I’d be a corpse in the cellar under Paulus’ manor, and all my escape plans and dreams would be for nothing.

Maybe this last week has been nothing more than the figment of imagination of a dying mind, sheared by the claws of the Scorp who hunted me into the cellar. I grab Khra’s arm, feeling his bulging bicep, and I’m reassured by the titan’s strength.

“It’s not much, but it’ll get us where we need to go,” says Krazak, as he waves to the boxy transport, so unlike the smooth, predatory lines of the jet-black Reaver. This ship is bland grey, and the logo of one of the three families who owned it has been spray-painted over, so that you can barely see the hint of the letters.

He throws open the side doors, his biceps flexing, then helps me up the step into the old ship. Inside, there are marks on the walls where posters have been ripped off, all the personal touches of the previous owners gone. There is a big hallway leading to the bridge, and a door that leads to the back where the ship will be filled with goods, most of the ship’s bulk used for cargo. I follow Krazak up to the bridge. It’s a half-circle, with a big window looking out, and six seats in front of old-looking computers.

Krazak takes the pilot’s seat. His huge bulk barely fits on the seat, and he looks uncomfortable and out of place. After all these millennia, human technology lacks the aesthetics and functionality of the alien species, where even a run-of-the-mill cargo ship would have no exposed wires.

“Where do I sit?”

“Anywhere you like,” says Khra, motioning over to the human-sized seats.

I sit down in an uncomfortable leathery chair. It’s cracked and worn, and I’m in front of a dashboard that blinks with lights and systems I don’t understand. I try to piece together the info I studied back when I had planned to escape before, and with some concentration, I’m able to figure it out—I’m looking at the energy system of the transport ship.

“Energy functioning well,” I quip, as if I’m a technician.

Krazak just chuckles. I never thought he’d be one to laugh. The first time I saw him, he was a tormented being. The three are still broken in a way I can never fathom, but they have some bright moments in their lives.

The ship is jerky compared to the smooth space flight of the Aurelian Reaver, but I watch out the window as we fly over the Royal City and move to the east, where the great oceans sprawl out. I found peace in the oceans, once, and nostalgia floods me as I remember those days when there was nothing wrong.

We touch down in a small fishing village. I’m glad it’s not the one we used to moor my father’s boat. That was a harbor filled with yachts and the toys of the rich, my father’s the only wind-powered vessel. There’s a myriad of fishing vessels, along with a few huge ships, ones that will probably be confiscated by the Aurelian army soon enough.

“Wait here. We’ll get a boat,” says Krazak.

“I’m used to waiting,” I say, and regret the sarcasm instantly when Krazak winces.

They pull themselves from the too-small chairs and stride out of the bridge, having to duck under the doorway made for humans. I enjoy the broadness of their backs, exposed by their cut robes, the lines of their scars making patterns on their muscles as they leave. They move with such grace despite their massive sizes.

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