by Ann Aguirre
“Request for parley?” Gavriel said.
He considered. “Huh. I did not see this maneuver coming.”
“It’s a trap,” the Noxblade predicted. “They lure you out, murder you, chop the head off the resistance.”
“I am opposed to being murdered. On principle.”
“Of course.” The Eldritch’s lips twitched, as if he hated the fact that he found an asshole like Alastor amusing.
It would be the height of stupidity for him to leave the safety of the fort and stroll out to greet this commander. Yet the Elite respected nothing more than strength and courage. Whatever they wanted, he’d finish this his own way, not by complying with outdated traditions.
Besides, that bitch would eviscerate me in a duel.
Which was what Alastor suspected the commander meant to suggest, should he sally forth. If I reject, I lose face. If I lose, I die.
No thanks.
“Get the bullhorn,” he told Gavriel.
He’d need every iota of charisma he possessed to make this work and while the Noxblade groused about running errands, he sought the right words.
Deep breath. Now or never.
His voice rang out as it had when he addressed the troops at the western outpost. “Warriors of Golgerra, here is what I offer—freedom or death. Following my brother, you will perish. Have you not seen how I’ve rallied even the children against you? I’ve secured alliances with all clans of the Animari as well as the Eldritch. Wolf-kin spy tech. Bear-clan war machines. You cannot stand against this collective might.
“Don’t you wish to be part of something greater? In my Golgerra, there will be rewards for cleverness, wisdom, kindness, and courage. No one shall fight in the arena who does not wish it and your children will no longer be taken as tribute to serve at my family’s whim. There will be no more purges of the sick and injured, no more culling of imperfections. When I cast my brother out, I will abolish the penal farms outside the city and the family caste burdens shall be no more. How long must you suffer for shame your grandfathers could not even remember?” He raised a fist in posing the question, and a rumble of reaction sounded from the collected warriors.
“Look around this city. Don’t you want more than this for your children? In my Golgerra, anyone will be permitted to travel freely, to learn as they wish. We will no longer be the monsters that outsiders are taught to fear. We can become teachers and sages in addition to warriors and take our rightful place in the world. You have one chance for redemption. I will forgive the harm you’ve wrought if you kneel, pledge to me, and promise to rebuild what you’ve broken. It’s not too late. Choose freedom. Choose me.”
Silence.
“That’s your plan?” Gavriel asked, as Alastor lowered the bullhorn.
“Shut up and wait.”
He watched the crowd, hardly daring to hope, until a small figure broke ranks to reach the front. The girl wasn’t even old enough to be called a woman. With quick steady steps, she walked all the way to the gates of the fort and dropped to one knee.
Others followed. Slowly, then gathering speed, they came and offered obeisance to a king they’d chosen freely. The Elites were the last to yield, for the caste system and the old ways benefited them most.
They still knelt. Now that they were closer, he didn’t need the device to amplify his voice. Now, they sat in the palm of his hands, bending to his will. “Speak the words.”
In thunderous unison, the oaths rang out, first in modern usage, next in the old tongue. “We pledge ourselves! Wa-sei Alastor Rei! Fe toma sui doja.”
All hail King Alastor. Long may he reign.
“Blood-bond,” he called.
This was one custom he’d honor, mostly because it would permit him to test their commitment. As he watched, five hundred warriors sliced their palms. An oath sworn in blood, if broken, would condemn their families for ten generations. Alastor nodded.
“Open the gates,” he said. “The war is over. We’ve won.”
Gavriel tried to stay him. “Are you out of your mind? This is a trick!”
He shook his head, declining to argue with someone who didn’t understand his culture. When the gates groaned open, he went to his new army and sliced his own arm, just below the names Caia, Efren, and Leander. The significance wasn’t lost on the soldiers.
It took a long time to mingle his blood with so many, but as he moved among them, not even one shifted in formation. He shook every hand, locked eyes with each, and received a solemn hand over the heart; he gave each salute back. With the winter sun brightening the pale sky, there was a vital formality to the occasion.
The commander who had lost her chance to challenge, thanks to Alastor’s quick tongue, stepped forward after he finished the ceremony. She was half again his height, probably twice his weight. It would’ve been suicide to duel her.
Her gaze skimmed him up and down. “You’re nothing like your brother.”
“That should give you hope,” he said.
The Elite warrior smiled and slowly raised her right hand to seal it across her heart. “It does. What are your orders, my liege?”
That’ll take some getting used to.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She seemed surprised by the question, answered it readily enough. “Chadri, my liege.”
“I have but one question, Commander Chadri. What became of the woman your forces took from me?”
From the way her battered features froze, she knew about Rowena. “Gone. Halfway to Golgerra by now, I’ll wager.”
Though the answer wasn’t unexpected, his stomach still sank like a stone. “Divide the battalion into platoons and dispatch half to search and rescue. I want all your medical officers working the triage tents. Everyone else should focus on building emergency shelters to aid those displaced by the conflict.”
“You trust us to do this?’
“Shouldn’t I? I don’t take you for oath breakers.”
“Never,” she answered firmly. “Soldiers! We have a new mission.”
Alastor wasn’t a fool, so when he moved off, he asked the surviving Exiles to mix among the new recruits, one to a platoon. At the first sign of problems, his men would warn him.
With a long sigh, he turned to Gavriel and said what he’d wanted to since he first saw Sheyla’s message. “Let’s go. You’re with me.”
Gavriel groaned. “Why?”
“To save my friend and win the fair maiden,” he said lightly. “Or is it vice versa? At any rate, it’s beyond time for my princely reward.”
27.
With great ceremony, Dr. Seagram opened the access panel and proceeded with the three levels of biometrics required to open the doors. There was a tense silence, until they swished open. No alarms, no damage report.
So far, so good.
The lift was still working at least. Sheyla and Dedrick took half of the medical team up in the first trip, along with six patients. Though the elevator was industrial-sized, it was still a tight fit. Normally she’d be ready to claw someone’s face off over such enforced contact, but Dedrick’s solid weight at her back kept her violent impulses at bay. Returning to the surface seemed to take much longer than it had on the way down.
At last, the box shuddered to a stop and the doors fanned half-open and got stuck. She wasn’t close enough to see the problem, but Nurse Mills said, “There’s rubble we need to move.”
Sheyla maneuvered to the front and slid sideways, wedging her arms and legs against the doors. With all her strength, she shoved; at first, nothing happened. The others crammed in beside her, adding their might, and then the scraping sound of metal against stone said they were winning. A cracking sound, burst of masonry dust and a cascade of smaller bits of broken plaster rained down as the doors splayed wide, sweeping clear the damage that had blocked them.
She tumbled out into what used to be a corridor. It was more of a tunnel now with sloped walls and a fallen ceiling. The floor looked more like tectonic plates in th
e underworld than the hospital it used to be. Once she had her footing, she helped everyone else out. Getting the patients to safety was going to be like navigating a minefield. While the staff could scramble and crawl, their charges couldn’t, and there wasn’t nearly enough clearance to permit beds and life-support machines to pass.
Dedrick was already inspecting the damage. He turned to her as if she was in charge. “If we apply pressure here, we can widen the passage without bringing the ceiling down.”
“How do you know?” Mills demanded. “We should wait for Dr. Seagram.”
The truth was, there wouldn’t be room for everyone in this pocket just past the elevator doors. Inside the lift, the patients should be safe from harm. She joined Dedrick at the wall.
“Tell me what to do.”
“All hands here. On my mark.”
He counted it down and other shoulders joined theirs. Nurse Mills scrambled back into the lift. As with the doors, it took combined Animari and Golgoth might to topple the shattered wall. When it went down, the ceiling rumbled, but apart from another shower of dust, nothing more fell. Now there was a clear path and she could see daylight where one of the exterior walls had collapsed.
Sheyla hauled the first patient out of the lift, checking all his connections. “We don’t know how stable the structure is. Let’s move.”
She and Dedrick led the way, lifting the hospital bed when necessary. The guard stepped through the jagged hole she’d spotted to scout. “It’s a bit steep but I can manage.”
Over the past few days, she’d come to trust him, so she lifted on her end and with care, they worked the patient free. Pause and repeat. They made a good team, so the rest of the staff clambered to freedom and attended the patients already on the ruined lawn. Dr. Seagram was the last to pass through, only after the fourteenth and final bed landed outside. The building trembled then and Dedrick snatched her so quickly that she let out a surprised squeak.
Not a second too soon.
The walls and ceiling caved, dumping a ton of cement and sheetrock where she had been standing. Sheyla shivered against him as he smoothed her hair with a big hand. “Thanks,” she managed to whisper.
“Alastor would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
“That,” said a familiar voice. “Is certainly true. And it applies to both of you.”
On unsteady legs, she stumbled to the demon prince. Thinner and with fresh lines on his face, he’d brought so many reinforcements, medical personnel, soldiers, equipment, that her entire body slumped in relief. With tender arms, he caught her and put his face in the curve of her neck. She barely noticed when the embrace evolved, and somehow he was holding two of them. Nestled between Alastor and Dedrick, she reveled in the warmth and the reassuring thump of their hearts.
“Thank you, my dear ones. For keeping yourselves safe. It was all that kept me sane, the past few days.”
Before either she or Dedrick could reply, the lead Noxblade joined them, but Alastor didn’t allow them to pull away. He fixed a gimlet stare on the assassin.
“Your princely reward?” Gavriel asked.
Alastor answered, “You’re in charge. If anyone needs me in the next twenty-four hours, tell them to take a number.”
Sheyla didn’t argue. She desperately wanted a break before considering her next move. The truth of what she needed to do scrambled furiously at the back of her head, but she quieted it like a bird cage covered with a dark cloth. Dedrick and Alastor traded news as the three left the ruins of St. Casimir. He updated them on various battles, the industrial sacrifice, Zan’s death, and how the remnants of Tycho’s army had sworn to him.
“I am so proud of you,” she said.
Dedrick echoed the sentiment. “Me too. But you’re making me feel guilty over the nothing I accomplished underground.”
“You healed and came back to me,” Alastor said. “I’d be a mess if I’d lost you too, friend.”
The guard dropped his gaze. “And Rowena?”
“Taken. We’ll save her when we liberate Golgerra.”
The unspoken if she’s still alive dimmed the mood, so they walked a bit in silence. Several blocks farther west, toward the ministry complex, their flat building was still standing. It seemed odd to let themselves in and find things relatively unchanged, as if the shape of the world hadn’t shifted. No power, the grid was decimated, but there was running water.
Sheyla took the first shower and then opened a tin from the cupboard and ate the contents cold. With the tension that had been keeping her alert dispelled, she wanted nothing more than to sleep. To her amusement, she found both Alastor and Dedrick passed out on the bed. They’d managed to bathe but not eat. She could’ve slept on the couch, but there was no working heater, and they felt like pride mates, so she slid in between them as she would have at home. Mmm. Crowded but cozy. Blearily she pulled up the covers and winked out.
She woke to Alastor’s lips on her neck and Dedrick’s arm across her waist. Since the prince was spooned up behind her, she felt the jut of his hard cock. That didn’t necessarily mean that all of him was up. Turning her head, she caught the jade shimmer of his eyes. Given what she’d observed about Golgoth modesty, she should’ve thrown some clothes on before getting in bed. Alastor seemed to think her bare skin existed for no purpose other than his seduction.
Silently, he teased her. With his teeth on her throat, his lips on her shoulder. His clever fingers skimmed the tops of her breasts, over her ribs, and down her belly, until her thighs quivered. Desire was natural after a crisis, and that intellectual awareness didn’t diminish her pleasure. There was also a spike of illicit excitement over being caressed with Dedrick nestled against her. If she didn’t keep quiet, he would wake and—
“Seems like I might be intruding. Should I go?” His voice was deep and raspy with sleep.
Too late.
Alastor replied before she could. “That’s up to you. And Sheyla.”
“You want me to stay?” Dedrick asked.
Her heart pounded with nervous excitement. The time she’d spent with the guard in the bunker piqued her curiosity about him rather than rendering her wary. When she was a cat, his hands had been so gentle; she wondered what it would be like, the three of them together. A frisson of excitement expanded inside her, so her breathing quickened. When she realized what she wanted, she said it aloud.
“I do.”
The prince eased against her. Now it seemed he felt he could answer honestly. “Right now, I want both of you, but it’s not a demand.”
Alastor had never shared anyone with Dedrick before. In Golgerra, it would’ve been impossible, as his favor would’ve marked some poor soul for Tycho’s attention, possibly leading to execution or a fate worse than death, life as one of his brother’s concubines. He could just about hear Ded considering the offer, but it truly was fine if he demurred. Patiently he waited, teasing Sheyla with luxuriant strokes, working ever closer to her cunt. She squirmed against his cock so deliciously that he almost couldn’t stop himself.
Eventually, Ded said, “I wasn’t looking forward to leaving a warm bed, stiff and aching.”
Alastor laughed softly. “If you do, it’s your choice.”
“Any boundaries I should know about?” He understood what Ded was asking, if he could touch Sheyla as well.
She’s not my property. Part of him ached over that thought because he wished with all his heart that he could claim her as his mate; she’d never consented to permanence. It had taken all his combined eloquence and charm to get her to agree to a brief affair, and now that Hallowell was secure and his health stable, she’d probably go home soon.
Time to soak up enough Sheyla to last me a lifetime.
He kept his tone light. “That’s up to the lady. You already know what I like.”
“I don’t think so.” She already sounded like sheer sex, her voice airy with desire. “If I don’t like something, you’ll know. I hope you’ll be honest too.”
&
nbsp; “Promise,” Dedrick said.
Perfect. Now that everyone was on the same page, Alastor didn’t hesitate. Still stroking toward Sheyla’s core, he reached for Ded and kissed him. The scrape of his jaw in contrast to the softness of his mouth was lovely; Alastor knotted his fingers in Ded’s hair, slowly rocking against Sheyla’s ass. Between them, she was a wicked little fire; he could tell she was exploring Dedrick with her clever hands because of the gasps and groans he drank as they kissed.
Alastor pulled back when she whispered, “Here. Like this,” so he could watch Sheyla’s pleasure as Ded worked her breasts. He went in for more kisses, first Sheyla and then Ded, back and forth, until his head was swirling with heat. She felt so good against his cock that he could almost come like this, but that seemed like a waste.
Soft and tentative, Ded took Sheyla’s mouth, and her pleasure spilled into Alastor. His lips tingled, and he could just about taste his friend’s tongue. Yearning reached critical levels as he pictured Sheyla beneath both their hands and mouths. He was about to say, Ladies first, when Sheyla sat up, and as if she’d planned it in advance with Dedrick, they shifted as a unit and focused on him. So unexpected, he fell back against the pillows as she took his mouth. Ded went straight for his cock, and his mouth was liquid heat. Sheyla on his chest, biting and licking, sucking, her sharp nails scraping over him. Ded sucked him with gorgeous precision, knowing exactly how much pull and pressure he wanted.
They’re trying to make me come first.
He bucked into Ded’s mouth, each luscious glide better than the last. Alastor didn’t have the will to resist on his own, but he framed Sheyla’s face in trembling hands, begging her to see what he wanted. It shouldn’t be all about me. I’m not royalty in this bed. Her mouth was already glossy and bee-stung from all the kissing, her eyes lambent. Then her gaze swiveled to Ded, who had served his whole damn life, and was doing it still, even if he didn’t realize it.
