Page 70 of Broken Triad

Only Krazak and my triad possess me, heart and soul, their slate-grey gaze both dominant and worshipful. I crave it.

But those eyes aren’t slate-grey anymore, are they?

I don’t glance towards the guardian triads as I enter the city. I make myself part of the crowd drawn towards the city center. I’ve been in the Royal City a few times, but I never liked it, the masses of humanity too busy, the buildings grubby and unrepaired, but now everything is gleaming. Buildings are freshly painted, the streets cleaned, and the people have a spring in their steps.

The Aurelian triads catch up and take off at a jog. Whatever is happening, it’s happening soon, and they don’t want to be late. Young, with brands on their forehead. Does it mean something? Or am I clutching to patterns that are not there?

People move aside for the jogging triad, not out of fear, but respect. Everyone is grateful to the Fanatics who saved our planet from the Scorp. I imagine how the city would look if they hadn’t come to save us. Only a few fires would be smoldering now. There would be no life, no busy chatter, no vendors yelling out their wares or patios packed with diners. A woman holds a baby to her chest, bouncing him up and down gently to soothe him, and my eyes get wet as I imagine what would have happened to them if we weren’t saved.

I know that I’d be nothing more than bones under Baron Paulus’ manor.

I move through the flow of people, quickening my pace towards the palace, until I am in the huge town square. The walls of the palace loom above. The tallest spire has a mass of ships darting around it, repairing it.

The main gates of the palace are ahead of me. No human is within twenty feet of the walls. Two beefy triads of Aurelians stand imposingly at the gates, hands on their Orb-Blades, but neither has the second brand on their foreheads. Perhaps General Ra’al wanted men loyal to him to guard his inner sanctum and his mate, not triads who have their allegiance first to the Priests and the War-God. The two triads that passed me earlier jog through the gates, to nods of the triad.

There’s nothing to do but press forward. I walk directly towards the center of the gate, keeping my head low, when one of the beefy Aurelians, perhaps in his late fifties with a huge grey-flecked beard, raises his hand and steps forward.

“Stand back!” he yells, his voice booming, drawing the curious eyes of the people in the town square.

His hand is right on the hilt of his blade. Even a woman alone could be working for Queen Jasmine.

He looks at me more with confusion than hostility, big bushy brows furrowed, confused at the audacity that one small woman would have the gall to try and waltz into the most heavily guarded place on the entire planet.

I’ve got only one card to play.

“Help me,” I gasp. “I’m Lola. The woman who was kidnapped. I just escaped,” I say, letting my voice quake in false fear, but I’m glancing up to gauge his reaction as he steps in closer to me. I pull my hood back.

Grey eyes widen in recognition. “Come in. Quick,” he says, reaching to grab me, then stopping, not wanting to touch me after I was taken by members of his species. Instead, he cocks his head, and the two others of his triad step forward, blocking me from the public square in a wall of protective alien muscle as he lets me through the gate.

The courtyard of the Royal Palace is beautiful, finely pruned hedges on either side of the path that leads to the castle itself. Above us is a stone bridge that goes into the main palace and connects to the front wall, where there is a half-circle in the wall that extends out over the public square where the king and queen used to make addresses to the populace. That bridge was shattered in the attack, and there are huge holes in the ancient grey stone, now filled in with metal bars, nearly repaired.

“Are you hurt?” asks the beefy Aurelian, stroking his beard, paternal worry in his voice. He feels he personally failed me that a kidnapping was allowed on his planet.

“I’m okay. Shaken up but okay.”

“Where are the triad that kidnapped you? How did you escape?” He looks past me, searching for any sign of danger.

“There’s no time. I need to see the General Ra’al. Please, now, it’s urgent.”

“Urgent? The General is addressing some of his troops. He cannot see anyone.”

Those bushy brows of his furrow deeper. He looks like a big bear, and so do the two others of his triad. Even in their fifties, they must be deadly specimens if Ra’al put them at the gates of his own home. He speaks in his smartwatch, the cold tones of his alien species familiar to me—but I don’t hear Ra’al’s name.

The other triad guarding the gate hasn’t moved. Their hands are near their blades, their eyes alert as they scan the square.

“Who took you? Was it Krazak? No mind. All that can be discussed later. For now we just need to get you to safety. I’ve got a medic on the way. You’re safe now, Lola.”

“Krazak? Who’s Krazak? The three bastards who took me never said their names.”

“Did he have twin brands on his forehead? Here?” He points to his temple.

“No,” I say, to divert their suspicion. “They just had brands on their chests, and no black ink. Please, I really need to see Ra’al. That triad never thought I could escape, and they bragged of their plans. They’re planning to kill Queen Rachel, when the General is distracted. They bragged that they were going to destroy the General that way.”

He grunts. “Tell me every detail. Now. First—how did you escape?” Now his interrogation is more pointed. His voice is icy cold, and I don’t know if he’s trying to get the information out of me quickly to keep his commander safe, or because he suspects me.

I step away from him, letting my eyes go wide in fear. “You could be working for him, too! I’m not saying a word until I see General Ra’al.”

His jaw sets. He pauses, thinking, then cocks his head. “You sure you don’t need a medic?”

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