Page 52 of Ashes & Aether

Orien still doesn’t crowd me, maintaining a polite foot of distance, his long strides easily matching mine. The glowing orange lines along his jaw pulse in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, mirroring the bioluminescence of the forest around us.

“You handled the royals well,” he murmurs, his voice a low vibration in the quiet night.

“I manage generals for a living.” I keep my eyes on the glowing path ahead. “Royalty is just generals with a better wardrobe.”

A soft, rumbling chuckle escapes his chest.

We walk toward the spaceport, the massive silhouette of the Sovereign looming in the distance. Even though it is luxurious and provides every comfort, I find myself reluctant to switch to recycled air just yet.

Orien clears his throat. “We don’t have to return to the vessel. My manor is located on the eastern edge of the capital. It is quiet. There is a guest wing overlooking the lower lakes.”

My steps falter for a fraction of a second. I recover instantly, masking the misstep by adjusting my lapels. He reads me so well. It must come with the profession. Either that or…

No. Do not go there, Maggie.

“Are you offering me a room, Spymaster?”

“I’m offering you time away from bunkers and interstellar vessels. You deserve rest. In fact, I believe you are cycles overdue for it.”

Butterflies detonate in my stomach.

It is a useless, adolescent physiological response, and I crush the sensation instantly. But staying in his home, in his personal space, completely removed from the sterile, professional boundaries of the ship…

“As long as your snoring cannot be heard through the walls,” I deadpan, refusing to let him see the victory, “I suppose I will tolerate it.”

Orien flashes a devastating grin.

“Excellent.” He gestures toward the looming silhouette of the spaceport. “Let us fetch your bags, Commander.”

“Let’s.”

Orien’s command cube chimes against his palm, and his brow furrows. “Kairen,” he mutters. “Give me a moment.” He steps toward a pillar, voice low.

Above the concourse, a glass walkway curves over the departure gates. An Avaren female in a white lab coat stands at the rail, pale hair pinned back, a datapad against her chest. She isn’t looking at my face. She’s looking at my left cuff.

I have spent almost three years watching people’s eyes. No one has ever looked at the sleeve first.

The female finally looks up, and I hold her stare until she inclines her head and walks away.

17

ORIEN

Istep into the shadow of a towering crystal pillar, putting a sliver of distance between myself and the human commander. The ambient hum of the spaceport fades into the background as my command cube projects Kairen’s face in stark blue light.

Exhaustion drags at the corners of my prince’s eyes. The purple neural filaments along his jaw pulse erratically, a physical manifestation of the adrenaline still burning through his system.

“Report,” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

“The Pride’s crew is entirely detained.” Kairen drops his chin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Most surrendered the moment we landed. Claimed they feared for their lives under Korvann. The more zealous loyalists are rotting in the Sovereign’s brig. Caden is running the final processing now.”

“And the General?”

Lethal satisfaction flashes across Kairen’s features. “Awaiting public trial. My mother demands a spectacle. He will be held publicly accountable in front of the entire capital soon. The chapter closes.”

I process the tactical wrap-up, cataloging the shifting power dynamics of the court. “There are still loose ends. We are still questioning some of the crew and Korvann’s associates. His family.”

“We cleared the immediate relatives using standard protocol.” Kairen sighs, the tension in his shoulders dropping a fraction. “Even the scientist on the Pride, Vessa.”