Hillas looked down his nose at Roden, who looked right back at his leader.
This moment had been coming for some time. After the poisoned rum, Roden had been looking forward to this meeting. Within minutes, Hillas — or Roden and Nalea — would be dead. Roden had planned for both outcomes. If Hillas were dead, he’d lead his people. If Roden and Nalea were killed, his people would quickly learn of Hillas’s betrayal and they would reject their Grand Lord. One thing was certain about the traditional Draeken. They would never forgive a man who killed his own daughter.
“Lord Zyll,” Hillas said as he took a seat across from them.
Roden lowered his head. “Majesty.”
“I apologize for my tardiness. After you first arrived, we picked up a beacon from somewhere on the base.”
The insinuation was clear. Roden raised a brow.
“When gold-skins — pardon the slang, Nalea — attacked the base, the reasoning for the beacon became quite clear. Nevertheless, we have turned the infiltrators away.”
“For now,” Roden replied with a slight tilt of his head.
Hillas waved a hand in the air. “But that’s not why I brought you here. Now, come closer, daughter. Let me see you.”
With every step Nalea took, Roden stayed with her. When only a few feet from his leader, Nalea stopped.
“Your Majesty,” Roden held a hand before the woman at his side. “May I introduce Lady Nalea Zyll.”
Nalea gave a slight jerk, but said nothing.
Hillas came back to his feet and stopped inches from her, standing before her like a proud game cock. His gaze examined her, starting at her face and then moving downward. “You turned out nicely for a half-breed.”
Roden bit back a growl. A bold, foreign sensation coursed through his blood, which he recognized immediately.
Revulsion.
Pouring from Nalea into him. She’d made no movement, spoke no words, but he could feel what she felt nonetheless. Though it made no sense, he kept a protective arm around her waist.
Noticing the movement, Hillas stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, giving a stern look in Roden’s direction. “A bit presumptuous giving your last name to my daughter. Her last name is Puftan until I declare differently.”
But before he could speak, Nalea stepped forward and jutted her chin out. “Your blood may run through my veins, but that doesn’t make me a Puftan.” She tossed a look at Roden.
And I’m not a Zyll.
“Thank you for delivering my daughter to me,” Hillas said, as though she never spoke. “Although I see she has yet to learn common Draeken courtesy. We’ll continue this discussion in private.” He snapped his fingers, and the guardsmen at the door stepped forward. “Escort my daughter to a sitting room.”
Roden stepped between the men and Nalea. “Nalea
Zyll
is my consort and she stays.” His fingers wrapped around her forearm. Her muscles were iron, and she stood firm behind him as he glared at Hillas. “She will not die today.” He then turned to the guards. “We have things to discuss, so get the
fyet
out of here.”
The guardsmen looked to Hillas, and Roden glanced back, giving the Grand Lord a hard look. “You want to harm my consort, you have to go through me.”
Smugness flashed across Hillas’s face.
“Don’t we make the picturesque family,” Roden replied with a smirk.
Hillas’s features blanched. After a moment, he dismissed his guardsmen with a distracted wave. “Return to your positions.”
Roden tried not to show disappointment that Hillas kept his guardsmen in the room. Regardless, it wouldn’t change his plans. Two armed guardsmen he could handle. He relaxed his grip on Nalea and moved to stand at her side. He spared a glance in her direction and wondered if he looked as tense as she. Hells, his emotions were likely making it even worse for her. Inhaling her scent, he found himself calming. Somewhat.
“You should have brought her directly to me when you learned,” Hillas said.
Nalea went to take a step forward, and Roden stopped her with a quick touch to her hand. She gave him a questioning look, and he gave the slightest shake of his head.
Not yet.
Roden faced Hillas. “We were unsure of where you stood on the matter, especially under the … circumstances of her lineage.”
Hillas smiled, but there was nothing kind or genuine about it. “I have a daughter. That is reason to celebrate.”
Roden’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe the Grand Lord for an instant. He’d known about other children Hillas sired and then killed. Everyone suspected Hillas had a hand in his younger brother’s disappearance. “Not to disrupt the happy reunion,” Roden drawled. “But why have you
really
brought us here today?”
“As my Second, I wanted to show you
tomorrow
.” The Grand Lord took a seat at the ornate desk near the back of the room. The curved dark metals of the furniture did nothing to add warmth to the room. Everything was cold, unblemished perfection, as though he was trying to recreate an image of himself in his possessions.
Nalea, on the other hand, was fire. Where Hillas coldly commanded his people from afar. Nalea was a warrior, unafraid to get blood on her hands. And every moment Roden was near her, the admiration he felt for the woman continued to evolve into something stronger and more enduring. If she suspected the control she had over him … well, he refused to think of that.
“I’m disappointed in you, Roden,” Hillas said. “I sense you have lost your respect for the office of the Grand Lord.”
Roden heard the door open and the sounds of three pairs — if not more — of boot steps came up behind him, but none of the expected blows came.
Nalea tensed at his side. He turned once again to Hillas. “As we speak, a communiqué has gone out to all core ships announcing that we found your long-lost daughter and that she’s my consort. If you kill us, you will lose the support of the Draeken people.”
Hillas guffawed. “Why would I kill my loyal subjects,” he said a bit too quickly.
Roden belted out a laugh, and then his features straightened. “Did I also mention that if Nalea or I don’t return to my camp unharmed by morning that a second communiqué will go out? One that contains a list names, all within the Puftan bloodline, who met untimely deaths during your reign?”
The older man’s face reddened and he jumped to his feet. “You lie.”
Roden lifted his brows.
Hillas slammed a fist on the desk. “They’re my people. And they’ll follow me, despite whatever propaganda you send out.”
“Your reign is at an end,” Nalea said from Roden’s side. “My people have made peace with the humans. They’ll be back to finish what they’ve started. If you don’t submit, you don’t stand a chance.”
Roden admired her spunk.
Hillas did not. His silver eyes narrowed onto the woman. “Submit? Never!” He swung, and Roden grabbed his wrist before he struck Nalea. She proudly jutted out her chin.
Roden was tackled from behind. As he was pulled to his feet, Hillas swung out and punched him instead. Hillas was old and weak, and while Roden’s vision flashed momentarily, he’d taken harder punches as a boy. He would’ve returned the favor, except that his arms were held at his sides by two guardsmen. Instead, he shot a hard look at the Grand Lord. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re an endangered species. Without power, we aren’t leaving this world. Without human support, we’ll have to fight for the right to live here. If you don’t make peace and soon, you’re dooming the Draeken race to war.”
“Bah!” Hillas cried out. He turned and walked to the wall, pressed several buttons, and a panel opened. He pulled out an octagonal-shaped box covered by smooth dark metal on all sides. “The humans
need
us. The inhabitants of this planet have no technology to speak of. They couldn’t breech our defenses with their best weapons. They got through today because of a traitor and with weapons the gold-skins stole from us. Humans, Sephians. They are
nothing
.”
Roden eyed Hillas suspiciously, and he saw Nalea take a step to the side. She nodded at the box. “What is that?”
“This … ” Hillas held out the box. “Guarantees Draeken supremacy over this planet.”
Nalea stood frozen as Roden’s fingers ran across the dark surfaces of the box. A glow emanated from the box as it began to hum. Nalea covered her eyes as the thrum of familiar power brushed over her.
This changes everything.
Nalea’s world turned gray. If Hillas got this kind of power to the core ship, they’d be unstoppable. The people on this world would be doomed. Even with few numbers, the Draeken could turn humans into slaves. It’d be Sephia all over again.
“It’s been tested? It works with our technology?” Roden asked. His voice was steady, yet his emotions were washing over her in waves. He, too, knew the implications and wasn’t happy.
Hillas beamed like a happy child. “The trick was finding the right lunar frequency. Even though this planet has only one moon, its signature is not so much different from Sephia’s moons.”
Roden looked at Nalea, then at Hillas. “How long before you have enough power cells to eliminate our power shortage?”
“Not long now,” Hillas replied. “The Sephians will run out of power within weeks. Once they can no longer contact Sephia, nothing stands against my firepower. This world is rightfully mine. She — ” he gestured to Nalea, “must die today. But you, Roden Zyll, for your impudence, I will keep you alive just long enough to witness it.”
She turned to Roden, and they exchanged a knowing glance. She felt Roden’s intent the instant before he made his move. Still new to the bond, she couldn’t help but turn reflexively toward him the instant he pushed himself backward, knocking his guardsmen off balance. He pulled out his sword and killed one in a blink of an eye. He’d taken down the second man who’d restrained him by the time Nalea realized she still hadn’t moved.
Hillas roared.
Now!
She launched herself at the Grand Lord, gripping the small blade Roden had given her earlier. Hillas had no time to react. She tackled him, and he clawed at her flesh. Her first swipe at his heart missed when Hillas shoved at her, hitting a lung instead. He grunted, and then started to yell something. Whatever he was about to scream was cut off when she sliced his throat.
Blood sprayed out from his jugular. Blood splattered her face and covered her hand, causing her hold on the blade to slip. She stayed on him, pushing his hands away as he weakly pushed against her. After wiping her hand and the blade on his chest, she gripped the knife again.
It was a small blade — she’d have to go deep. Taking a deep breath, she plunged the blade into his heart, not missing this time. His hands wrapped loosely around hers, which were still around the blade. He looked genuinely confused as the life ebbed from his eyes.
She watched him in apathy.
You’re not immortal. You die just like any man.
There was no sound other than the ringing in her ears. She stared blankly at the man beneath her.
Father.
She brushed aside a blood-soaked strand of hair from his face. This was the man who she’d spent a lifetime running from, a lifetime dreading. Covered in blood and lifeless, he didn’t look like the Grand Lord who’d raped her mother. He didn’t look like a monster to be feared. He looked just like any other dead man. Justice had been served.
She pushed to her feet and stumbled back. Numbness wrapped around her heart in a loving caress, and she turned in a circle, trying to get her bearings. In a daze, she stared at the scene for a second or more before she remembered that she wasn’t in the room alone with Hillas.
The floor was littered with winged bodies. In the center of it all stood Roden, covered in blood and swinging his sword, slicing through tendons and muscles as another guardsman attacked. His opponent fell in a heap.
Roden glanced back to Nalea. Splattered with blood, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Suddenly, the sensation around her heart turned cold and brittle and tightened. With eyes wide, she leaped forward. “Behind you!”
Five more guardsmen rushed through the door. Roden took out one before he could fire. Another one got off a shot before Roden skewered his heart. Agony burned through Nalea’s shoulder, and she cried out the same time Roden snarled.
She grabbed at her shoulder only to find the skin smooth. Confused, she looked up and realized that she hadn’t been shot, that she’d only been feeling Roden through the bond.
Roden!
The remaining three guardsmen dropped their weapons and went for their swords. They surrounded Roden, ignoring Nalea to focus on the greater risk. Clenching her teeth through Roden’s pain, Nalea rushed forward and grabbed the wing of the guardsman who foolishly gave her his back. He twisted around as she slid her small blade into his liver. The man went down, giving her a better angle to swing around and slice her taller opponent’s throat.
Roden closed the ranks with Nalea at his side and held out his sword. “The Grand Lord is dead. Drop your swords,” he commanded.
Neither dropped their weapon immediately. They both looked around the room, both getting the same expression when their gaze fell on the body behind Nalea.
One man dropped his sword and bowed. The other man lunged forward.
Fool
, Nalea thought as Roden parried the blow. Even with his injury, Roden swept to the side and made a direct hit to the man’s side. The guardsman fell to the floor, and Roden lifted his blade, bringing it down into the man’s heart, making it an honorable death.
Roden smashed against the wall. “Secure the door,” he ordered to the only remaining guardsman, who obeyed without question.
He turned around, sliding his sword into its scabbard, and Nalea rushed for him just as he started to sway.
“You got him.”
She nodded, glancing back. A river of blood continued to trickle from the dead man’s neck.
“Good,” Roden said with a wince.
Nalea bit back the phantom pains mirrored within her body. She examined his wound. The skin was charred, but it’d been a clean shot through his shoulder and wing and into the wall behind him. He flexed his wing and they both winced. He wouldn’t be flying anytime soon. And he’d gain a few new scars, but Nalea could deal with that. If Roden had been killed …
Don’t think that way.
“We have to get you medical attention,” she blurted out.