Ariock awoke in a palatial bedchamber. Glowing orbs and panels of sea glass softened the black granite walls. Curtains billowed around the veranda, delicate gauze bordered by silver and gold thread. The intricate embroidery matched the starbursts and wheeling shockwaves that decorated Ariock’s armor. Cherise had designed his signature galactic-themed patterns.

A pleasing fragrance completed the atmosphere. Vy had ordered custom aromatherapy oils for the lamps, with an approximation of fresh pine, plus a hint of ozone after a thunderstorm.

Ariock stretched on the enormous bed he had put together with his powers.

Someone stirred beside him.

Ariock’s eyes widened. He saw a feminine waist and hip in his peripheral vision, as nude as he was. This was a first.

Vy had her own suite. Sometimes she did visit Ariock, or he might check in with her, but she was always dressed. She owned satiny pajamas that barely clung to her curves. The skimpy outfits exposed her thighs and some midriff and cleavage, but that was supposedly what upstanding Alashani ladies wore to bed.

And if Ariock tried to remove the pajamas?

She’d only laughed softly. “No. I’m not giving you easy access.”

She was not ready for sex. She would cuddle with Ariock, and she would kiss him, and she might move with pleasure when he touched her, if she was in the right mood. Yet she would leave if Ariock got anywhere near insistent.

“I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Ariock had told her, more than once. But he wasn’t sure he could even believe his own comforting words. How could he guarantee safety? Any intense emotion triggered his powers. His control was tenuous, and they both knew it.

Safety was best. But…

Maybe now?

Ariock rolled onto his side and covered her hip with one huge hand.

When she cuddled into his warmth, he moved his hand, stroking. Down one naked leg.

Higher up.

She laughed softly with pleasure, inviting him to keep going.

Ariock’s throat tightened in anticipation. Another part of him swelled, tightening in another way. He could hardly believe his good luck.

His caressing hand brushed something that felt cool and winglike.

He froze.

The woman next to him raised herself up on one elbow, her purple hair a wild cascade around her face. Her expression was sultry, and utterly devoid of Vy’s kindness.

Ariock leaped off the bed. He grabbed a satin sheet and held it over his waist, hiding his arousal, which was fast wilting.

Evenjos emitted a throaty, disappointed laugh.

“Why—? What—?” Ariock looked around. “Where is Vy? Is she okay?”

Evenjos shoved the last of the sheets away. She was stark naked, her bodily proportions verging somewhere between real and impossible. Her enormous, sensually curved wings shone like blades dipped in syrup.

“Your Violet Hollander is not very accommodating for you.” Evenjos waved one languid hand at the archway. “She left to run errands.” She said that in the most judgmental way possible.

Ariock remembered visiting Vy last night. They had talked until late in the night, and then he had tucked her into her bed, and gone to his own suite.

And then? Evenjos must have lurked in his bedchamber, unseen, her incorporeal dust-form unaffected by the ocean breeze. Spying on him while he slept.

How often?

Was this what Evenjos did between healing injured soldiers? Instead of learning how to dismantle warships in space, or getting to know the warriors … she was wasting time. Invading Ariock’s private life.

“Get out.” Ariock was torn between glaring at Evenjos and averting his gaze. She looked like a naked goddess on his bed.

But he remembered that she was all artifice. Her true form was corpse dust.

Evenjos nestled deeper into the pillows, making her body a soft invitation.

Ariock turned away with a growl of disgust. He had given Evenjos multiple hints that he was uninterested in having a vain shapeshifter as a partner, even as a friend. She refused to take a hint.

Maybe it was time to be more direct. That was what Vy suggested.

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And Vy was right. Ariock’s soldiers needed heroes whom they could respect. Evenjos had yet to prove that she was worthy. The Yeresunsa warriors whispered that she was a coward. The regular troops barely knew that she existed.

“We have a busy day today.” Ariock used his powers to twist warm water out of the adjacent bath spa. “We’re planning to take over three major cities. I want us to fully take control of Umdalkdul within this month.”

He used his powers to splash his naked body. He used several bars of soap and washcloths to clean himself as efficiently and fast as possible.

“Are you going to bother to come along and help?” he asked Evenjos.

She looked frustrated.

Ariock rinsed. He sent the used water outside, across the veranda and upward, where he dissipated it across the sky, adding to the morning clouds.

At the same time, he connected to the folded underclothes that one of his valets had prepared. Using his powers, he pulled those on in less than a few seconds.

“You’re not welcome in my private suite,” Ariock said. “Do you have something to tell me? If not, then get out.”

Evenjos sat up. She lingered, like she wanted to say something.

It had better be an apology.

Ariock held out his bulky arms and caused armored pieces to fly into place, fastening onto each part of his body. He didn’t particularly like having so many mirrors around, but the mirrors were advised by Thomas. Apparently, mirrors warded off clairvoyants. Ariock had tested that theory, and it was legit. For some reason, mirrors confounded his disembodied self when he was in a ghostly state.

He couldn’t ghost into a star, or a black hole, or a temporal stream, either. Something about the effects of refraction or bent light made it impossible.

So he could not directly teleport into his own bedchamber. He had to appear on the veranda, or else walk in, like a normal person.

It was a good security measure. Even so, Ariock felt self-conscious with so many mirrored angles showing his reflection. He could not avoid seeing how massive he looked, especially in his spiky, thorny battle armor. He looked like someone who might crush a normal-sized person by accident.

Was it any wonder that Vy wanted to escape whenever he got carried away with lust?

Was he crazy to think that she would ever feel comfortable with him?

Maybe that was a question he should bring up to someone wiser than he was. Except he didn’t feel comfortable asking Thomas. Or Garrett. He didn’t even want to ask Kessa.

His relationship with Vy was no one else’s business. He didn’t want friends and soldiers judging his personal life, or getting intrusive with Vy, or putting pressure on her to “loosen up” or behave in a certain way. Nor did he want to deal with awkward questions or rude insinuations. Interference like that would take away from his focus in battles.

“I don’t know what you plan to do all day,” Ariock said to Evenjos. He tested his armor integrity, making sure he could make fists and move his fingers independently. “But I never want to catch you in my bedchamber again.”

He strode out towards the veranda.

“Wait,” Evenjos said.

She usually sounded regal. Now she was pleading.

Ariock paused, impatient.

Evenjos’s method of getting dressed was less definite than what Ariock did. She lost cohesion, becoming a cloud, and then she flowed upright, gathering into a new position. Now she wore a snug dress. A queenly tiara sparkled in her hair.

“Why do you hate me?” Evenjos begged.

Ariock stared at her, wondering why she had misinterpreted his disgust. Was it because she wasn’t very good at mind reading?

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“Do I displease you?” Evenjos gestured to her sparkling dress, which emphasized her artificial beauty.

Ariock took a deep breath. He would normally avoid provoking Evenjos, or confronting her. But he decided that he was done being polite.

“I don’t want you.” He said it firmly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I value people whose focus is on what we’re trying to accomplish. People who aren’t shallow and self-absorbed.”

Evenjos winced. She looked as if her soul was crushed.

Guiltily, Ariock recalled that Evenjos was a victim of torture and abuse. She had suffered more than anyone in the universe. She was powerful, but there was a delicateness about her.

Maybe Evenjos had not realized that she was crossing a boundary when she spied on Ariock? Or when she tempted him by laying naked in his bed?

He was probably expecting too much from the deposed goddess-empress. She deserved pity.

“I’m sorry,” Ariock said.

He turned away, and used his powers to summon one of his favorite proximity weapons. The double headed battle axe slammed into his waiting grasp.

He had designed the weapon himself. Its ionic blades could slice through Torth armor and bone, and the weight of the weapon ensured that few Torth could lift it, let alone swing it. Its size and shape made it perfect for energy enhancements, offering Ariock trajectory lines for his extended awareness. With such a weapon in battle, Ariock had learned that he was even more deadly. No Torth could stand against him.

“What could I do to please you?” Evenjos begged. “Other than battle. You know that is deadly for me. If I put myself in the path of the inhibitor…” She sounded ragged, older than her youthful face implied. “I am dead.”

Ariock thought of all the times he had taken deadly risks.

He thought of his best warriors and soldiers. Jinishta. Weptolyso. Nethroko. Garrett, of course. In addition to those friends, he had other favorites—exceptionally fierce fighters who would face danger with the odds stacked against them in order to score another victory against the Torth Empire. He particularly liked Guradjur and Zenzaldal and Choonhulm.

People like that did not waste time simpering.

They were not obsessed with their own personal safety.

They took the time to get to know their fellow soldiers, because that was vital. They understood that the freedom of the galaxy was at stake. They did not have to be lectured about why winning every battle was so important.

Evenjos trotted close to Ariock, as if hoping he might bend down and kiss her.

Instead, he traced her artificial jawline with one huge armored finger. He wanted to emphasize her fake fragility.

“You come from a different time,” he said. “You’re from an era of royal balls. The people of your time were less violent. They were polite.” He reconsidered. “I guess they made a show of being polite, anyway.”

Evenjos had told Ariock that the Yeresunsa of her era never got their hands dirty. They had worn lacy tunics and gowns adorned with gemstone ornaments. If they had scars, they hid them. And if they were violent, they would never dare admit it around their fellow nobles.

“Maybe someday,” Ariock said, “we’ll have an era like that again. But for now?” He hefted his battle axe. “This is an age of war.”

He needed serious warriors. Not prissy empresses who played games in palaces.

He stepped up onto the stone balustrade, towering over her for a moment.

Then he walked off the veranda, connecting with the wind. His army was assembling on the teleportation flats in preparation for another day of battle.