{Enki | Monarch 3’s Shrine}

As her team made their way through the conduit, led by Xelan, Pehton’s last conversation with Caedes replayed in her head. The one he initiated right before Xelan called roundup.

“If you get a chance, take Abresson out for me.” The gravel in Caedes’ voice thickened so much he cleared his throat before adding, “I’m afraid I won’t get much in his way while I’m guarding the ICU.” Beneath his request was a carefully veiled concern.

Pehton laughed in his face, surprising him, judging by the widening of his eyes. Once she collected a few breaths, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just… haha… They did it. They sapped you.”

Caedes’ eyes darkened as realization dawned on his face. He clenched his jaw and gave a big exhale. “Shit.”

Refreshed from the break in all seriousness, Pehton touched his arm. “Now. For your orders—”

He seriously straightened to attention and his dark green eyes sparkled down at her.

“—I command you to guard these people—yes, even Triss—from the hordes of bullshit heading this way. To the death or to your shame. Do you understand me?”

Quiet passed between them. It was an important moment with Caedes staring in her eyes. His expression was intense. The tension stretched so tight that when he reached out to brush his fingers in her feathers, Pehton startled. Cue the truly annoying but very male smile on his face as he said, “What do you like for breakfast, Pehton?”

She frowned. Breakfast? “What… Why?”

“So I know what to make you tomorrow morning after we win, and once I’ve spent tonight doing everything I’ve thought about doing to you. At your command, of course.”

Welp, that’s all Pehton could think about. Yup. They were heading into battle, and her head was full of a gravelly voice in her ear during all the times Caedes had pinned her in their training games. It occurred to her Caedes would be Pehton’s first lover with no hair. What would she grip her fingers in?

They’d figure it out.

“Psst.” Someone nudged her from behind.

Pehton turned to crane her neck up to glare at Korac, who’d found his signature countenance once again. Cold and confident, but his pale eyes glittered with mischief as he said, “Head in the game, hussy.” Her cheeks warmed as he said, “That’s right, I heard you two. Focus on the battle. We’ll need your mind on your Siren’s Gale to defeat Enki, not on how you like your eggs. Scrambled or over bald heads.”

This would be worth it. Pehton swung one good jab at Korac’s ribs because it was the highest she could reach on him. When she did it, Pehton knew the moment Korac could block because he was simply that fast. Instead, the cavalier General let it land and even faked a wince on her behalf.

“Ouch! No wonder your new boyfriend has a thing for redheads. So feisty.”

Another punch. This one landed in Korac’s gut. He pretended to stagger back from it. “Oh no! Not my abs. Sagan will never forgive you.”

Pehton growled. “This is so patronizing—”

“I find it quite amusing.”

They both looked at Sagan, who grinned and waited at the front of the group with Xelan. Beyond them was the Monarch 3 army, led by the black-and-blue-clad Queen, F8.

The ruling butterfly smiled with entirely too many teeth in her pretty, petite mouth. F8 ducked her head. “General Korac, I find I like you much more in recent years. And Executive Warden Pehton, I’ve only heard of you from Tumu, but I appreciate your attitude. However, if the two of you don’t mind, we need to assemble the other armies at their respective shrines. Prince Xelan?”

Grateful to see the attention had moved from their embarrassing misbehavior, Pehton offered an apologetic smile to Sagan. She hid a snicker with her hand for both the Executive Warden and her errant lover.

There was that feeling again. Belonging. Love. Whatever drove the Shadow to be so huggy and sappy—Pehton got it. She’d die for them. Hell, she might.

Korac plowed by Pehton, almost knocking her over on his way to the front.

Fucking juvenile.

Once Korac reached Xelan, he asked with a severe brow quirked, “Armies?”

Xelan turned and reassured, “I suspected your Verse might encourage some of the others.”

F8 chuckled. “‘Some,’ he says. You knew exactly what you were doing. It’s why I like you so much.”

Sagan raised a hand, and three heads turned to her. Korac’s smirk for his lover was so warm. Pehton almost let out a cheesy sigh at how much she admired the couple.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“How many people am I transporting?” Sagan asked a reasonable question.

The widening of F8’s eyes fluttered Pehton’s pulse even before she answered. “My armies are the most immense in the galaxy. I cannot give you a number. The Caprents numbers are more exact. Then Pil might provide accurate estimates but with the mech suits—”

“Pil? L. Capra?” Incredulity warmed Korac’s voice.

Pehton’s eyebrows raised as F8 continued without acknowledging the astonished faces around her.

“—The healers of Yun are on Cinder with the Icari and humans. Iuo, do you know how many are in your private army?” The last she called over the crowd to the Lamian Prince.

“Five million. You know? Standard.” He smiled in his friendly, unassuming way, while the rest gawked at him.

“Oh,” F8 added, “I almost forgot X is meeting us with Lukemore’s forces at the Pil shrine. Then, of course,” she turned and smiled at Pehton before continuing, “Your army is short in number, but mighty in spirit. I look forward to seeing your Lyriks fight, General Pehton.”

General Pehton. What…

Why was Korac smirking at Pehton? Even Xelan beamed at her with pride. Dear Elden, fighting alongside Icari was dizzying, especially ones with a tendency for dramatic theatrics. Only Sagan’s touch on Pehton’s elbow grounded her enough to say, “We’re ready.” Of their own volition, her Lyriks whistled behind her in a demonstration which swelled Pehton’s chest.

Lamassau explained, “Tempest and Dolor assembled the Two World armies with Colton, Six, and Cypher leading the humans. It was a precaution we arranged on Earth.”

Kyle looked at Andrew. “Good thinking.”

Andrew said, “Actually, it was Tumu’s idea.”

They all turned and looked at the old Primary. He ignored their curious faces and asked, “Star, can you manage all this?”

Sagan smirked, and Korac’s lips broadened into a grin, once again melting Pehton. The Seamswalker said, “No problem.”

A conduit opened, and F8 ordered, “March!” Her queens stepped through first.

As the Monarch 3 army funneled into Cinder’s shrine, Pehton overheard Xelan whispering to Andrew. “…their intentions?”

“They’re telling the truth,” the Progeny confirmed.

Pehton tried not to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help overhear Xelan say, “You sound surprised.”

In a distraught voice which nearly broke the Lyrik’s heart, Andrew confessed, “Let’s just say I’m struggling to keep my faith in people, lately.”

“Hey, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Kyle sounded intrigued. “How many times have we heard that phrase? You know… ‘Keep your faith in me a little while longer’?”

Korac’s slightly exposed chest entered Pehton’s field of vision. She looked up at his smirking face. Good and caught. In an attempt to defend herself, Pehton opened her mouth to say, “I swear, I wasn’t trying—”

“Eavesdropping. Tsk tsk. Although, I suppose I’ll let it slide this once. It’s a skill you no doubt found useful on Gait—”

Gait.

Pehton knocked into his knees as she pushed past him to reach Sagan. “Hey.”

Sagan searched her eyes. “You need me?”

“The drive. The one Razor gave you…” Pehton crossed her fingers, hoping.

Sagan patted a pocket in her leather pants, the existence of which Pehton found surprising given how tight they fit her. The Seamswalker assured, “I brought it. One of the times, Razor—” Sagan swallowed, and Pehton almost kicked herself for bringing him up. “Ahem. He said it might decode for an Aegis Terminal in Enki.”

Xelan stepped up beside them. “What’s on it?”

Korac answered from behind Pehton, “A dossier of all the members of Imminent. You’re so brilliant for thinking to bring it amid all this chaos.” He leaned to the side and kissed Sagan’s cheek. She blushed.

Pehton gagged. Yup. She’d met her limit. Rather than beg the two to stop being the perfect couple, she looked up at Xelan. Hmm. Interesting. As the coupliness of them increased, a little vein strained on his forehead—

“Xelan, I brought something for you.” Tumu turned and took something from Lamassau. It was folded and made of a black material. “I believe you left this the last time I arrested you in Enki.”

The Prince of Cinder’s eyes widened as he snatched it and let the folds fall open—

It was a frock. An actual pirate frock with folded cuffs and blue-stitched details on the buttons and lapels. It looked like a cheesy movie prop.

And Xelan luxuriated in it, sweeping it on with a flourish. His voice held an excited wonder. “I thought I’d lost it.”

To Pehton’s fine-tuned ears, Lamassau sounded a little displeased when he said, “You left it in Tumu’s Sanctum millennia ago. You remember? When you stripped naked to enter the Pantheon.”

Korac’s brows shot up with a glare at his ex, Tumu held up his hands to stave his lover, and Xelan stammered on his explanation—

“General Pehton.”

Called, she turned away from the unfolding drama to find F8 standing behind her. Tiny, like the Lyriks, the butterfly queen held out her impossibly small hand. “Escort me through the conduit? I’d like a chat.”

Pehton glanced between the smiling leaders surrounding her before accepting the woman’s hand. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

They walked together to the conduit as millions of the queen’s people filed inside. The drone soldiers fell back for the monarch, allowing them a pocket to pass through. As they walked, F8 said, “Soon, we’ll convene with the other generals to discuss strategy. Do you have formations for your soldiers? What about the Siren’s Gale? Are you the only one blessed with—”

“Okay. Slow down, your highness.” Pehton staved F8 with her free hand. The aggressive butterfly quirked an amused brow in response. Then the woman’s eyes scanned Pehton’s body. The black net weave of her Lyriki armor was the same brilliant blue as her soldiers, but maybe this queen saw something else. Regardless, Pehton set F8 straight. “I’m working with the Icari. With Xelan and Korac. Although I have some maneuvers in mind if we’re facing Imminent soldiers from across the galaxy, I’ll put my girls where it best serves the entirety of our forces. I suggest you do the same.”

“We all are.”

Wait. What. “Pardon?”

F8 squeezed Pehton’s hand gently, but tense enough to hint at her disproportionate strength. In a reassuring voice, F8 said, “We will follow them into battle and long after. They are what we need.”

So it was true.

“Okay, then why ask me—”

“I’m only curious as to your fighting style.” F8 patted Pehton’s hand and released it, stepping back into a black metal alcove. Her army’s boots reverberated with each step on the corrugated metal. The station at Cinder’s shrine was truly oppressive, made more so by the faint smell of the burnt planet’s ashen breeze. F8’s clothes blended into the walls as she continued to explain, “As someone tragically confined to an entirely male army, I’m curious how women get along. The Valkyrie interest me as well.”

Oh.

The drones lined the vast space in perfect formations with perfect posture, led by Monarch 3’s tiny queens. Pehton frowned. She almost asked why not form their own army out of the women, but the answer was obvious. If they died, their race died with them. In that spirit, Pehton said, “I look forward to giving you a demonstration.”

F8 nodded her approval, staring out at her soldiers. “I look forward to seeing it. In a few brief hours.”

Yes. It would be over soon.

Pehton looked forward to French toast with Caedes and learning exactly where to grip him when the time came.