{Ishkur | Gale’s Iona | Six Months Later}
“General Warden Pehton, report.”
Pehton stretched under the sheets, careful not to wake Caedes. She was sore inside and out, and it was lovely. There was no cause for the irritatingly silken voice calling over her palm device to wake them both. Naked, she tiptoed to the closet for something—anything—other than her armor to wear—
“Yip!” Pehton clutched the nearest clothing item to her chest.
Projected in her hand, Korac’s eyes went wide before he shut the visual link down. “Sorry. I saw nothing. Elden, you’re not out of bed yet?! I’m getting married in nine hours.” There was an edge of panic in his usually cool voice.
Rolling her eyes, Pehton slipped on a t-shirt and brought the visual back online to let him see the lack of amusement on her face. “Not everyone needs twelve hours to primp.”
Best man.
Best man.
What a stupid Earth custom, and she was twice the fool for agreeing to be one for such a high maintenance, boujee, prima donna—
“That post-coital glow looks good on you.”
Could Pehton’s cheeks burn any hotter without activating the Siren’s Gale?! She threw the nearest object at the projection. It went through, of course, but she felt better. “Does Sagan know you talk to me like this?”
“Hi, Pehton!”
Korac was smirking. “That would be her in the background.”
Again, the General Warden rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you two supposed to be separated or something for the night before ‘the big day’?”
The smirk increased in wickedness. “Good luck keeping us apart.”
Sagan’s face appeared in the projection. Wow, speaking of glowing. “I’m heading out now if he’ll ever let me go to Tameka’s.”
There was the definitive sound of an ass being slapped at the same time Sagan, “Yipped,” and disappeared from the projection in a fit of giggles.
Pehton sighed and let them carry on like this. Every phone call. For six months now. She wasn’t begrudging them at all. Everyone had earned their peace.
The daily occurrence had become standard operating procedure since Korac appointed Pehton the General Warden of Planetary Security. With the appointment of elected officials—F8, Legir, X, Iuo, 2Lip, Tempest, Lamassau, and Jack Callahan—the Concerted Empire accepted the offer from Co-Emperors Tameka and Xelan to transport their populations to habitable continents Ishkur-wide. For now, that was the continent of Cinder II, the planet before Li’s expansion. This arrangement was temporary until Xelan and the terraforming engineers in charge of programming Torrentus prepared estates for all the represented peoples.
The migration from planet to Dyson’s Sphere was purely voluntary, but when it became clear the less savory types were choosing to stay behind, Korac hired Pehton. Funnily enough, most of the unsavory types were old contacts of hers from Gait. How convenient.
But Pehton didn’t mind. General Warden suited her just fine. She even got her own Iona. Xelan let her name it after Gale. This embassy was in the sky, accessible via flight and conduit. The air always smelled of spring meadows here—
Pehton sniffed. That wasn’t spring meadows. The smell was…
Ignoring Korac and Sagan being utterly adorable on their well-deserved union day, Pehton followed the scent out of her closet. The bed was empty and made, and the bedroom door was left open. Sounds came from the kitchen and the delectable smell of…
“French toast.”
“He’d better deliver it to you in bed.”
Korac’s voice broke the spell, and Pehton, wearing only a t-shirt, mused, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Sagan cackled in the background before the door closed on their side of the call.
“Morning, Iona General,” Caedes called from the stove, accustomed to Korac’s inappropriate calls. “Happy union. Stealing Pehton early, I gather?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Pehton sighed and went into the kitchen so the men could talk while she poured herself a glass of Yun lichi juice.
“I am, soldier. I am.” Korac always grew more solemn and serious around other people. It made Pehton cherish their friendship more that he opened up to her, and simultaneously sad for the other people who couldn’t experience it. The General continued, “How is the latest case?”
Caedes “humphed” without looking away from the divine smelling skillet.
Pehton smiled at his taciturn ways before pointing an accusing finger at Caedes by the stove and Korac’s image. “No work talk today.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Caedes said, perhaps a little too readily and firmly.
Korac chuckled.
Oh, the jokes about training the man or keeping him on a tight leash—They would never end. Not since that one time Korac walked in on her and Caedes.
Stupid spiked collar.
Pehton padded back into the bedroom and scrounged together some pants. She said to Korac, “I’ll be there in two steps. Just let me eat breakfast and put on some pants.” She snatched the ‘best man’ kit, including her ensemble for the wedding.
No comment about her pantlessness. Korac never went for low-hanging fruit. Instead, he said, “Echo’s looking forward to seeing you.”
Bless.
Any mention of the sweet angel melted Pehton. Stupid secret weapon. “See you in thirty.”
“See you.” Korac disappeared to prep for this momentous occasion.
Rushing.
Always rushing.
“Let’s see. Pants on. Check. Kit complete with gear. Ready. Feathers… Better do something with them.” Pehton fretted all around the open living space until she heard Pil porcelain sliding across Cinder Ignis granite. The smell alone would revive her from the brink of death. “Thank you, Caedes.”
Everything fell to the wayside as Pehton took her seat at the bar beside her lover, partner, and coach. Rather than speak, Caedes purred briefly at her gratitude, making Pehton smile into her bite of French toast.
So far, so bliss. The only thing they’d yet to agree on was a drawer for his things. She was several million years older than him, but Caedes still thought a drawer at six months was too fast.
When Pehton had asked him, the gruff Icarus said, “We just established John’s Iona, and I’m its Major Officer. I’m needed there.”
Still, he spent every night in Pehton’s bed at Gale’s Iona. Clearly, both of them felt responsibility for their dead. But come on. It was only a drawer.
Despite this one point, they respected each other enough not to go on about it. Instead, they found sanctuary in quiet moments like these.
“Try it with a strawberry in the same bite,” Caedes said, while raising his fork for Pehton to indulge in his request.
She did, and maybe teased him a bit about it. Eye contact could do wonders at the right moment. His gaze was intense, dark green eyes locked on her lips.
Cardamom.
Pehton let Caedes’ scent fill her, and if there’d been more time, it wouldn’t be the only thing of his inside. “It’s delicious.” She kissed his lips with the syrup and strawberry still on hers. “But I have to go. You’re heading to Bones’, first, right?”
A terse nod from the Icarus with a knowing smile threatened to melt Pehton on the spot.
No.
No time for sex.
Pehton laughed. At her, at Caedes, at how happy she was. “Stop trying to cause trouble. I’ll see you there.” Then she made a mistake. She gave him a goodbye kiss.
Caedes roped her to him and propped her onto his thigh until she was firmly planted in his lap in a searing kiss. His hands marked their territory, claiming her shoulders, breasts, waist, and hips. Lower—
“Caedes, put your hands down.” Pehton’s Icarus did as he was told. “Let me go.” He gently set her aside with an intensity darkening his eyes to near black. “Behave yourself today. For Sagan’s sake.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Caedes accepted his orders with a regarding smirk. The man enjoyed being told what to do.
Pehton enjoyed every second of it. “See you there.” She left him to clean up the kitchen, while she traveled from one hall of the Iona prism to the next. The conduits took her to the outside, where the sky greeted Pehton with a spring breeze.
There was another reason she was excited about the wedding. Aria and Torch. With her work off-Sphere, Pehton found herself gone for weeks at a time. Co-Emperor Tameka and Co-Emperor Xelan asked Pehton’s children—both Primaries—to guard the imperial family. They accepted and lived on the Palatial Grounds full-time.
Sure, Pehton got to visit her kids to her heart’s content, but it wasn’t often enough given how much time they needed to make up. Still, she knew they’d get there. Today was another excuse to see them.
Below, specially engineered machines tilled and harvested the Vittle fields, Yun crops, and Lukemore cotton, contributing to the fresh smell. Nets emerged from crimson lakes filled with fish packed with proteins and omega fats suited for all races. Wild Hell Kittens bounded alongside Petrified hunting packs, tamed by Silence’s intermediary communication.
Between Pehton and everything below, Overseers, zipped by, filled with passengers. All of them were on their way to the wedding from all over Iona Pax, not only Ishkur. Xelan opened conduits to all the planets in a hundred thousand locations. The Overseers moved through them, carrying non-flying entities to their destinations.
Not Pehton. She slung the kit over her shoulder and scanned her blood at a super secret conduit. It led to a plain shrine with multiple shimmering veils. It was super secret because these conduits led to the Shadow.
Pehton took the second one on the left and emerged in a snowy glade surrounded by capped evergreens. It smelled like—Well, it smelled like the master of its dominion. She knocked on the grand entryway to a Reipon glass and Cinder log chalet. She called, “Korac, I’m here—”
Pehton gripped her sides in laughter, dropping her kit.
Korac answered the door in a silk robe with a toothbrush in his mouth, foam separators between his polished toes and rollers in his drying hair. A team of stylists followed him, positively distraught by his mobility during their work.
High. Maintenance.
The Icarus removed the tooth brush to put his face in hers and said, “You’re next.”
Pehton swallowed. Surely Korac was joking.
Surely.