The palace grounds were serene, to say the least. Just as they had been since this morning when the two royals and their stalwart guards flowed into them.
They made an effort to ensure no one witnessed the small elopement. They primarily did this because they desired privacy. Many of the servants and other royals were chatterboxes and hopeless gossipers.
So, vanishing amidst the nearly ancient trees or locking themselves away behind lock and key was the only way they could enjoy privacy.
The gardens stretched on for what might as well have been an endless eternity. Nothing but the green bows, soft grasses, babbling waters, and the wind singing through the bright flower pedals accosted the young couples.
Eivaley leaned back against Conor, who was propped against a tree. Her silken gold robes exquisitely festooned her womanly curves, letting Conor appreciate the sunlight shimmering off her cream-colored bust and the gorgeous red shine on her legs.
His firm grip held her close, not letting her move from his lap, not that she had any desire to shift even a nanometer. This spot, right on his lap, reading a book while he unthinkingly traced small circles on her thigh with his thumb, was right where she belonged.
Nothing under the stars or within the reach of mortals could make her give this up. Sure, she still waited for Conor to take the final leap into the unknown with her, but with his assurance that he just was not ready refreshed in her mind every few days, she could be patient.
He was worth the wait. The stars could smolder into black husks of ash and dreams of what was, and her desire for him to take her would still burn more brightly than a quasar.
Not even the gods could snuff out her reverence for the man holding her close and bequeathing his entire attention to her comfort and care.
Slinking off into far corners of the palace was a nearly daily occurrence since Eivaley snuck into Conor's room at night.
The locations were different, and the reasons changed; they went to a beach, had dinner at Mulaney's private estate, or, like now, it was just too lovely a day to be stuffed inside the palace.
In Eivaley's mind, the day could not have been more flawless, and then Mulaney giggled nearby.
Sighing and looking over at her sister, Eivaley could not help but scowl slightly. Mulaney and Burlai were under another tree nearby, the flecks of sunlight dancing along their polished scales, highlighting the black life coils on their necks.
The two giggled and tossed small berries into one another's mouth. The giggles this time resulted from one of the morsels falling into Mulaney's bust and Burlai fishing it out with his tail.
Make no mistake, Eivaley was glad that her sister had found a man who complimented her calculating and meticulous nature so well, but their being here now was an annoyance.
Could her sister not let her be alone with her man? or at least the man Eivaley saw as only being a few days away from being hers. The fifth princess could already imagine her life coil on his neck.
It would be pleasant if they could be left alone a bit more so she could continue to attempt to lure him out and catch his heart and soul. But Conor and Burlai seemed to have struck a deal to keep the two princesses safe, so now they were nearly joined at the hip.
If Eivaley did not want to roll over and have Conor suck on the tip of her tail while she rode him like an untamed beast, she might feel less affected by the unwanted presence; but this was reality, and they were around, save for night time nude snuggles.
So, she would simply have to suffer and have Conor always hold, cuddle, and compliment her.
Other than the brokerage between the men, the reason Conor tolerated the presence of others was apparent.
No one other than Mulaney and Burlai knew about the little private excursions that Conor and Evilay had been undertaking for the last few weeks. They could not risk anyone knowing they acted in ways an assigned champion and lady should not.
Sure, what they were doing was not technically against any rules. But with Conor and Eivaleys planet-wide fame, it would undoubtedly be talked about in betting halls and the halls of nobility for weeks, if not years.
But Burlai and Mulaney willingly acted as their alibies. So long as her sister and stepbrother were present, no one could raise suspicion about their whereabouts.
What they had was quite unique in Kurlatra society, especially the nobility. Gods knew more Kulrata women and men wanted the opportunity to struggle for what Eivaley and Conor had; a chance to genuinely love one another.
The couple could look beyond status, station, scale color, species, and the other's faults. They truly wanted the other, and it took time, tender care, and endless tending to grow that love from a small sprout into a mighty garden.
Mulaney and Burlai were more than happy to assist in that. They understood the risks that Eivaley and Conor were undertaking better than anyone else.
Most Champions and their ladies were quickly assigned or chosen, and the opinions of those to be betrothed were rarely considered. A fate Mulaney and Burlai were initially condemned to ---they just got lucky and were told to love someone they easily wished to do.
Sadly, those who did not understand care only saw what the fifth princess and the Humans were doing as going against the gods and the empress's desires.
The fact they had never crossed the line of mating did not matter, especially to the most zealous. Their perception was reality, and those brow-beating fucks knew what reality was, and anyone who questioned it met the blade of an inquisitor or a man like Burlai's swift judgment.
“Want to keep reading?” Conor yawned, having been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last hour.
“I doubt you would listen,” Eivaley giggled, snapping her book shut.
She had been reading Conor the sagas of her ancestors, specifically the stories of Nikitals, before he met Eivaleys ancestor.
The stories outlined the progenitor of Champion's life, struggles, and victories. Nikitals was a warrior who fought for causes he did not care for and ultimately became the Champion of an empress.
Burlai was no slouch on his history and ensured Conor could see the similarities between Niktals and the Human, but he was scoffed at. Conor did not care about fate or give any stock into history rhyming.
Eivaley, on the other hand, enjoyed the comparisons because they fed her desires and belief that Conor was destined to be hers. So, to her, the uncanny resemblance between her story and the tale of her ancestors was as sweet as candy on her lips---she could not get enough of it.
Granted, Eivaley was no empress, and Conor was not exactly a slave, but when money was the only means of survival, and there was one way to get it, what difference was there?
As she saw it, Conor was a slave at the time. He was no bondsman with a master or a slave knight; Conor only cared about money.
He was a serf to the almighty credit and made no effort to hide how much it mattered at the time. By Urla, each of his stories of fights, battles, or jobs included how much he was paid.
But he was not anymore. Conor could choose his fate now, just like Niktals could a thousand years ago. Eivaleys just prayed Conor would again shape his story with a similar choice.
“I was,” Conor assured, ignoring that he had been nodding on and off for half an hour.
It was not that he did not like the story. But Eivaley's presence put him at ease. When she relaxed and pulled warmth from him, it was like she sucked all the regrets away.
She understood the demons in his mind, yet accepted them. Conor would never forgive himself for Brakuls death, but her existence made stomaching it possible, even if acknowledging it felt like pulling a knife from his heart.
“Oh, you were? Then what happened when Nikitals was twelve and was sold off to the Razaiya of the badlands?” Eivaley teased, licking Conor's cheek and pressing her bust tighter to his chest.
“I know that,” Conor replied.
The Human's mind raced, trying to recall the tale, but it was useless. Conor had not been paying enough attention. Eivaley's soft touch, slow breathing, and soothsayer-like voice were all his mind cared about.
Sure, he could remember that Nikitals had led armies into battle, been enslaved multiple times, and spearheaded numerous uprisings, but anything beyond those high-level details was beyond him.
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“He was—uhh,” Conor drew on, looking off, hoping Urla would answer.
But no answer came from the absentee god, just as it always had been in his life. At least this time, Conor was not praying to have the next bullet miss his head.
“We can keep reading later,” Eivaley assured, setting the book down.
“Tonight?” Conor asked, implying she should snuggle up in his bed again.
“Hmmm,” Eivaley purred, not verbally saying yes, but her tail, sinching down on his hand, screamed yes.
The quartet lounged as the sun passed its zenith. Conor and Burlair asked about going to the range to shoot more, but the women opposed it. Now, they did so for good reason. They shot better than most of the guards at this point.
After only a month, the first and fifth princesses could shoot better than ninety percent of the royal guard on the flat range and well over half at dynamic targets.
Some of the soldiers were discouraged that the women they were supposed to protect could shoot better than them, but most took it on the chin. They saw the royals' lightspeed improvements as a reminder that they were not good enough.
After being repeatedly taken to the cleaners by the Lady of the People and the Lady of Enterprise, the troopers tripled down on training.
The NCOs and officers were troubled by the fact that two women who should never fight could hit targets out to a thousand meters more consistently than their troops. They could not accept this. They had to show that their troopers could still be of value to the nobles. As such, weapons drills never ceased.
Conor could still recall hearing the soldiers, including his guards, screaming, "Never shall I fail," while running around the palace for hours each morning.
Since the girls did not want to do much other than snuggle, eat snacks, and read, they did that until a world-shattering bang ripped through the palace.
To Eivaley and Mulaney, it was just another gunshot. They thought it was just the soldiers training at the range nearby; Burlai and Conor knew better.
The sound and direction were all wrong. That one specific snap came from the center of the palace, while the usual staccato pops of training came from the polar opposite.
Conor and Burlai shot out from their relaxation and grabbed their women, shielding them from potential harm.
“What was that?” Conor asked, looking around frantically.
“No idea,” Burlai replied, drawing his pistol while Conor pulled his own.
It did not matter that the two had such drastically different upbringings and training. Over the last month, they worked out kinks in doctrine and repeated what needed to be done enough that they did not need to speak to operate in close proximity.
Uncountable hours had been spent deciding where they would move Eivaley and Mulaney. How they would act, and who they trusted.
The dynamic duo had plans for everything from murder in the palace, earthquakes, military invasions, and even the other being killed.
Not only were their plans extensive, but they were also well-informed and constructed with contingencies abound. Their contingencies had contingencies, and fallback plans had millions of errant factors considered.
If you laid out their decision-making process into a flow chart, the paper would cover several square kilometers. Burlai and Conor had their choices memorized and did not have to think about what to do when the next what-if popped up.
Granted, most of the backups' backups boiled down to going to Conor's room, arming up, then heading to the royal bunker via the emergency entrance in the throne room. If that did not work, they planned on stealing one of the landing craft at the small shuttle port on the palace grounds.
With their flow of operations in mind, they knew what needed to be done. For now, they had to hold their position, protecting each other and those they cared about.
Eivaley and Mulaney understood what was happening right now. They were to remain in place while their Champions decided on the next course of action or Colonel Blakek announced all was safe.
The royal guard would assess the situation, capture the threat, and deal with it.
Over the last month, dozens of drills and false alarms have been conducted. Except for Vuraley, the empress, and the Colonel, no one knew about the drills.
Conor and Burlai had expressed their concerns about being left in the dark over dinner, but Vuraley and the empress would not budge on the matter.
Treating everything as real would ensure their reactions were always genuine. And would assist in keeping the Colonel's troops sharp, ready to fight, and clear on what to do no matter the incident.
Vuraley and the empress did not even care that Burlai and Conor seemingly took more strong-armed actions with each passing scenario.
During one drill, they had taken over a section of the palace and had the soldiers they gathered start building reinforcements out of toppled statues.
The duo even had taken another noble hostage and were about to start interrogating him through---less scrupulous means before Vuraley disarmed the near disaster.
The empress seemed more amused by their paranoia than anything else. She seemed reassured that even without direct instructions, the two were taking the royals' safety seriously.
For Conor, that level of borderline psychosis was to be expected. Burlai, on the other hand, seemed to be more on edge when the drills happened.
It took a bit of work and talking with Burlai and Mulaney, but eventually, they told Conor about the last sister from Mulaney's clutch to die.
Nicori, had died during one of these drills almost a decade earlier. It was, as far as everyone could tell, a genuine accident; a maid, while rushing through the halls, had run into Nicori, a paring knife in her hand having accidentally cut a vein in the royal leg.
No one even knew that someone was genuinely harmed in the panic until Therulay was found holding her sister's body. That was not until several hours later when the all-clear was announced.
Apparently, Therulay was so affected by the loss she had spent years going to therapy to accept the loss. Even to this day, that incident affected Therulay.
If Mulaney was to be believed, that fateful morning, mere minutes before the drill, was the last time she had seen her youngest sister smile.
By Urla, Conor might hate the little scag, but no one should see their older sister die at the ripe old age of five.
They waited almost an hour for the all-clear to be heard over the loudspeakers. If no word was passed within the next twenty minutes, Conor and Burlai were going to get the girls out of Dodge through the gardens.
It was odd most of the time. A drill would never last more than a half hour at most. That was all the time it took for the Guards to assemble, be told it was a drill, and return to their duties.
As if the length of the wait was not strange enough, the day had more to give. The word was finally passed out of nowhere, and no one had expected it.
“Conor to the peristyle. To the peristyle immediately. Should you not, you shall be declared a murderer in absentia,” was announced over loudspeakers, shaking the entire palace and the city.
“What the fuck?” Conor muttered, not to anyone in particular, but just as a natural response to something that seemed so nonsensical it could not be true.
Sure, over Conor’s time as an Assigned Champion to Eivaley, he had been in brawls, threatened plenty of nobles, and had pulled weapons on perceived threats, but those events meant nothing. Vuraley had assured Conor that those days' events were justified as an action fitting his station.
Why was he, and the entire city for that matter, being told that he was being declared a murderer if he did not go and defend himself? While sure, the Human could understand that he would have to prove he was innocent, he understood that much about the way trials worked in the empire.
He could not understand that he was being accused when he had not left Eivaleys side in days. It was confusing, and his entire mind kept screaming at him to run and take Eivaley with him.
That would do him no good. If he ran, this strange scenario would only worsen, and he knew it.
Conor looked down at Eivaley for an answer but was cut off by the message repeating even louder as if whoever announced it was insulted that Conor was not there immediately.
None of the four could recognize the voice through screams and sobbing pouring from the operator.
“What do you think?” Conor looked to Burlai and Mulaney.
Sure, Eivaley had experience in the politics of the Kurlatra. But it would be wise to rely on those who collectively had decades more experience.
“Well, I would say go,” Burlai advised, with Mulaney parroting.
There would be no reason not to go. If you did not, you were already declaring your fault. It was seen as if, by avoiding showing, you were admitting guilt.
Granted, none of them knew what exactly was being brought up against Conor as a charge, but avoiding it would always be the worst option.
With no other option at hand, the four gathered their things and started toward the summoning location. None of them had any idea what to expect when they arrived.
They could see another accident being used to frame Conor, but after hearing the gunshot, they doubted it. Either way, all the possible scenarios they could come up with could not prepare them for reality.
A crowd muttered around the outside of the courtyard, whispering their own ideas as to why the Human would do such a thing and how he had broken the cardinal rule of the royal family.
The declaration that you will not harm each other within the palace grounds.
As the group approached, a skittish servant spotted them and parted the crowd, letting them see the scene of an unfathomable crime.
A massive brown-scaled Kurlatra knelt in the center, knees sinking into blood-soaked sands. It was Sheruai, the God of Close Combat. He was a man Conor had seen dozens of times since his arrival, since he and his Lady, Kurelay, regularly visited the palace.
While Conor would not call the hulking man a friend, they had mutual respect for the other's fighting ability and had shared a few beers during visits.
Kurelay, the Lady of the Badlands, was clutched weakly in his trembling grip. She was clearly dead, half of her head blown off and scattered around the area. Blood and brain matter soaking her silver robes.
To see such a proud man brought to his knees by the death was not surprising. Despite being three meters tall and weighing as much as Conor, he was a big softey regarding Kurelay.
The group attempted to assess the situation, determine what had happened, and see if the empress had arrived yet, but they never had the chance.
Sheruai heard the mutterings in the crowd and looked up to see if the bastard who killed his love had really shown up. The moment he saw Conor, the God of Close Combat, dropped his wife to the ground and surged forward.
"You scum-sucking bastard!" He roared, venom dripping from his fangs.