{Gait}

Triss’ cries provided the soundtrack for Razor dissolving into Korac. Beyond them, Gait’s violet atmosphere hemorrhaged into the vacuum between its two halves. Days would pass before Enki stabilized to compensate for the obliterated prison planet within the Dyson’s Sphere.

Xelan hoped they were long gone by then.

Beside him, at the bottom of the mezzanine’s stairs, Tameka commented, “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.”

They both turned away from the Emporium’s glass ceiling to share an amazed glance. Awesome wonder seemed to find them, but at great expense.

“You can’t know what you’ve done, Pehton! What the Tritans will do to us!” Triss’ shrill cries sliced through the moment.

Pehton, strained and exhausted, promised through the surrounding flames, “Our future is better without the ringleader of this sick circus, but you won’t live long without him, Triss.”

“Tameka?”

She stopped climbing the spiral stairs to look back at Xelan.

He pushed his hair behind his ears, wishing for all the world a shirt to fidget with instead. This was difficult to confess. “I never wanted you to learn about this part of my life this way, but I want you to trust that I will always be honest with you about everything.”

She cupped his jaw with her warm hand. He leaned into it as she assured, “I trust you would never endanger us. Do whatever it is you need to do.” Then she abruptly pointed her finger at his chest. “But never sacrifice yourself for us again. Especially not in front of me. You owe me a kiss for every time I had to relive that experience. Are we clear, Wingmaster?”

Smiling softly, Xelan took her asserting hand and brought it to his lips. “Crystal.”

More tears glistened in her eyes, and her voice was thick with emotion. “Go be brave. I’ll help Pehton.”

As if summoned, the current Executive Warden flew to the landing where Tameka loaded the Lyrik with nacre cuffs for her lost sisters.

Xelan stepped onto the mezzanine. “Triss.”

Crazed with grief, the woman turned spiraling yellow eyes to him. She was on the edge, wild and afraid.

He hated seeing her this way. “Triss, please. Relax. The baby won’t react well to stress.”

Some clarity made her take a deep breath and let it out. Again. The convulsive anger diluted into a seething tremble. “Xelan. Xelan, you came back to us.”

“I was dead. My people—good people—revived me. Now they want to take care of you and Razor’s… is it a boy or a girl?” He approached her slowly with all of his limbs loose and weapon-free. He hoped he looked ridiculously harmless, bare-chested in a kilt.

Strangled, she shared, “A girl. Our daughter.” Tears hot enough to steam poured fresh from her eyes.

This was such a mess. How did everything turn out this way? He never expected his Progeny to reach Gait, let alone engage the Pain Curator. Calm first. Then find some shelter to sort out this storm.

“She’ll be one beautiful little girl.” Reaching her side, Xelan towered over the short Lyrik. “Do you think she’ll have your feathers? His eyes?”

Triss closed her eyes, as if revisiting a vision she sought often. “Aegis genes are dominant, but I hope she has her father’s eyes. And my voice.” When she opened them, the spiraling stopped. On half a sob, she confided in him, “But I’ll never get to see her. Now, neither will he.”

Xelan opened his arms, and Triss jumped into them. He squeezed the smaller woman gently. She squeezed with everything in her, and he felt the weakness in her bones. A short pregnancy, for certain. He ran his hand down her feathers and made soothing noises.

Overwhelmed and depleted, Triss fell limp in his arms. He scooped her up and turned to find Tameka and Pehton gaping at him. Clearing his throat and feeling naked, he suggested, “We should see to the Lyriks. They need shelter. Are the Numbered evacuated? Do we have a plan in place for them?”

“All but one.” On the main floor, Tumu nodded at the unconscious woman in his arms. “Taking in more strays?”

Tameka answered for him as she made her way around the capitulated Lyriks, cuffing them. “She’s pregnant. We’re taking her into custody.”

Wings beat behind Xelan. “I don’t think she’ll appreciate that Razor asked us to raise their daughter.”

Sagan.

He whirled to find her and Korac alighting on the mezzanine. Still suspicious of the circumstances that brought the Icarean General to their side, Xelan ignored him and focused on her. Bruises from internal bleeding formed a purple mosaic on her exposed skin. “Where’s your armor?”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

She pulled Razor’s jacket around her, proof of Aegis construction on this plane without her even knowing it. “They took it back.”

Xelan smiled. “Of course, they did.”

Sagan smiled for him.

Korac glanced from Triss’ trusting faint to Xelan’s eyes. “What is this Hall of Dead Kings you promised Razor?”

Tameka looked up from her work with an inquisitive brow.

Pehton let the banister hold her upright as she maintained control of the Lyriks.

Xelan felt a little silly holding Triss while explaining himself to a man he last saw committing the ultimate betrayal. “It’s a myth. The Pantheon houses a progenitor of nacre bones to revive an Aegis from the Atheneum. They would keep their greatest leaders there for council.”

Sagan stepped forward next, a hand gripping a chain and her eyes laced with concern. “Razor only agreed because you said he belonged there. Did you have feelings for him?”

Feeling a little defensive about this interrogation, Xelan went for brutal honesty in hopes to stem further questions. “No, but he seduced me once.”

Tameka and Korac mirrored the same expression of utter shock so dramatically that it almost made the moment comical.

For Tameka, he offered, “I’m sorry if I’m being insensitive—”

She held up her hand. “With a life as long as yours, I’ve come to terms with the idea of you having a few exes. Even if I don’t agree with some of them, I understand.” She glared upside Korac’s head.

Sagan snickered. “The bad boy thing really does it for you.”

Xelan beamed at her. “You can’t begin to imagine.” But his glance for Korac was less than friendly. “Try at least one from each race.”

Tameka’s brows shot up.

Korac clenched his jaw and swallowed his response.

It was Sagan who broke the tension. “I can’t say I blame you.”

They all turned and looked at her. Some bewildered. Some bemused as she continued, “Well, like you’ve never thought about sex with a Luk jellyfish person? Or a Monarch 3 drone? There was this one that worked for Razor. He was always so nice to me. Puk. That’s his name.”

Sagan’s signature arresting cuteness melted away the tension.

Korac smirked extra crooked for her.

Tameka shrugged with an agreeable nod. “After today, that reasoning sounds perfectly logical.”

Xelan crossed over to her and kissed her head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt your little moment.” Tumu sounded very much as if he meant to interrupt. “But the planet is in two pieces. Ross can’t get through to Bethany, and she’s insisting we wait for the Matt human.”

“Hey, Tumu. I don’t think Bethany is very lucid—Oh, dear Elden. My eyes are messed up. I’m seeing dead people.” Iuo rubbed his black and blue eyes vigorously and gaped openly at Xelan.

Xelan grinned at his second favorite Prince. “I missed you, too.”

After a cough and straightening of his combat clothes, Iuo stood taller. “I hope you came back to finish the series you started. The industry really misses you, Wingmaster.”

“Industry?”

Elden, Xelan needed to explain so much to Tameka. He frowned. Some missing pieces just slid into place. “Ross and Bethany? Kyle’s sisters?!”

Sagan looked almost as confused as he felt.

Tameka answered for them, “Razor bought Bethany two years ago from the Lukemore mills and hurt her every day since. Last week, Iuo helped Ross come here to rescue her. The bastard locked them both in cages in the basement.”

Korac glared at Xelan as he swallowed hard, trying to make sense of things. Everything went so wrong. “I’d like to help.”

“I think I can.”

Everyone snapped toward the recent addition. Matt and Lucy, who Xelan remembered assigning a mission before the big nothing. So much changed since that day. They both carried themselves with a terrifying confidence. As if they could topple the worlds together. And always together.

The Mon3 drone beside them waved sheepishly. “Hey.”

Pehton raised her head up enough to vouch for him. “He’s worked with the sisters this entire time to rescue them. He’s good for it.”

Tumu waved for Matt to follow. “Right. Come with us.” The auburn-haired human ran through the kitchens to the basement with the Tritan and the Lamia.

Tameka and Sagan shouldered Pehton and flew her off the mezzanine.

Korac approached Xelan with his arms out and his face inscrutable. “I’ll hold her. I’m sure you’re more useful searching through Razor’s suites than I.”

The fair-haired Icarus always knew what was on Xelan’s mind. “Will you actually rear their child?” He poured the woman into the other man’s arms.

The war criminal narrowed his gaze at the Prince. “Soon I want to know how much you know about me. How long you kept it from me. And what reasons you tell yourself to justify keeping these secrets. You knew I wanted a people—a family. And then I had you and… my King. I won’t forgive you for leaving us, Traitor Prince. But if I learned you knew of my past while we were…” His eyes flashed Atramentous. “I will look for ways to make your life agonizing without harming the people around us. And as you well remember, I’m quite creative.”

Yes. These sins were converging on Xelan rather rapidly. Before he could respond, the elegant man majestically swept away, with his hair swaying shorter than he could ever remember seeing it. Xelan watched him approach the drone, Lucy, Sagan, Tameka, Pehton, and all the Lyriks in their custody.

Suddenly, the drone ran up to Korac and blurted out, “Hi, I’m Puk. I’m a big fan. I went to every one of your matches.”

Wow. So that’s the drone Sagan considered for sex. Didn’t take long to find him.

Korac glanced over at her. She swallowed her laughter behind a sheepish grin. Even Tameka snickered.

What a strange family.

Xelan bolted into the vault, down the stairs, and into Razor’s suites. Having spent centuries here, it didn’t surprise him to see the Pain Curator skipped updating the interior decorating. Black everything. All the time. So boring.

“Oh, what’s that?” He crossed the space to the desk and lifted both Icarean axes. Flipped one. Then the other. Knowing Korac… yup, the kilt came with built-in holsters.

Next, he snatched a pillowcase he wouldn’t dare shine a black light on and emptied all the desk drawers into the fabric. That’s when his eyes came level to a tome. One written on Icarean paper. Xelan knew by the smell of Cinder. He opened it and read the first line.

“I am not the monster you think I am.”

Xelan slammed the abomination closed. Shoved it into the case with the rest of the filth. A hate-read for another time. Before escaping up the stairs, he took one last cursory glance. Few places to hide a whip. Maybe Razor sold it. On the mezzanine, he grabbed a few more items before taking in the Emporium one last time.

Daytime shone sunlight beautifully through the broken stained glass panels. Varying shades of gold and amber squares mosaic-ed across the wood flooring. Like twilight in a bottle. It took his breath away. He would miss this place.

“Ready to move on?”

Xelan smiled down at Tameka and saw his reflection in her green eyes, gilded by elation at his resurrection. Love. A promise. One that he broke against his will. He would repay her. Starting now.

“I’m ready to meet our son.”