Page 44 of Ashes & Aether

Orien hands the bottle to the harbormaster, then turns. His gaze cuts through the crowd, locking instantly onto mine. The tension in his broad shoulders vanishes the moment he sees the relaxed line of my spine. He offers that small, private smile again.

I look at the spymaster who brought me across the world, who navigated my defenses without pushing a single boundary, and who currently holds a glass of local wine in a circle of human fishermen.

I smile back.

13

ORIEN

The encrypted burst transmission from Queen Raelith arrives in the dead of night. Her words echo in my skull, shifting the very foundation of my existence. Of my species’ existence.

I stand in the quiet Hampton Court launch bay as the holographic projection of my homeworld flickers above my palm. Avaris. The crystal spires catch the light of Vireon.

Tara is pregnant. My prince is going to be a father. The Avaren will have an heir.

And the Queen commands a celebration. The royal palace is preparing to celebrate the crown prince and his human match, and the entire planet readies itself to welcome a miracle.

I close my hand, extinguishing the hologram. The joy warring with the strategic calculations in my mind leaves a burning heat in my chest. I need to return to Avaris. And I refuse to go alone.

I find Maggie in the war room. Trevor, the battered drone, rolls past my boots as I enter.

Maggie stands over the tactical map, a red marker resting in her fingers, her sleeves rolled down and buttoned tight at the wrists. The deep-red lipstick remains flawless, a vivid slash of color in the dreary bunker. She looks up, her eyes narrowing at my approach.

I deliver the news without theatrical buildup.

“Tara is with child.”

Maggie freezes. The marker hovers an inch above the paper. She processes the information at lightspeed, categorizing the biological and political ramifications for my species.

“Queen Raelith is preparing a celebration on Avaris,” I continue, closing the distance between us until my thighs brush the edge of the metal table. “I am returning for the event.” I tilt my head, holding her gaze. “I want you to come with me.”

She goes pale, her skin turning to porcelain under the harsh fluorescent lights. I can almost see the scenarios playing out in her head, ones of forced match testing. Her right hand drifts across her body, her fingers gripping her left forearm.

Then her spine snaps straight. The vulnerability vanishes behind an impenetrable mask of absolute authority.

“I will accompany you,” she states, her voice devoid of any tremor. “As a human ambassador.” She places the red marker on the table, aligning it perfectly parallel to the edge of the map. “I will also require a conversation with your leadership once we arrive. There is something we need to discuss.”

A thrill of anticipation races up my spine. “As you wish, Commander.”

We’re prepared by firstlight. I summon Zane, Sorin, and Jorik. The three Avaren warriors arrive within a couple of marks, their massive armored frames towering over the human guards.

“You will remain here,” I order them. “You will defend this bunker and its inhabitants. You answer to the human quartermaster in the Commander’s absence.”

Zane nods solemnly. “The bunker will not fall, Chief Orien.”

Sorin and Jorik murmur their assent.

Maggie delegates the rotating garrison commands to Higgins and Hackett, her voice slicing through their protests with lethal efficiency. She leaves them with no room to question her departure.

We board the Veil.

The air in the cockpit is thick with tension, the memory of what she did to me a ghost between us. My skin prickles with the phantom sensation of her wet mouth wrapped around my erection, the violent release, and the catastrophic slip of my tongue calling her my match.

She ignores it, sitting in the copilot seat, her tailored skirt smoothed over her knees, her hands folded primly in her lap. She stares through the viewport, treating the ascent through Earth’s atmosphere with the same deadpan indifference she applies to inventory reports.

We leave the gray clouds behind, piercing the velvet black of space.

The Sovereign floats in orbit, a massive, sleek leviathan. It dwarfs the human satellites drifting uselessly nearby. Maggie’s eyes widen before she schools her expression.