KLAREN
Year Thirty
FOUR YEARS HAD passed since the queen had commanded her captor to take her home.
Cyprian had managed to outwit her that night. Flying high with her triumph, she’d never expected him to turn on her.
Somewhere along the way, he had discovered her compulsion ability. Somehow, he’d been the only man to ever discover the difference she held in her blood. And so he’d kept her locked up for four years, refusing to see her when she called upon him, ignoring her pleas to return home to Xen Ptera. Denying her the right to see her son.
And yet he always came crawling back, unable to pull her from his mind. She’d embedded a deep obsession within him, and it was her only hope.
Just days ago, he’d entered her quarters, saying that her husband had agreed to a truce. That she’d finally be able to go home to the family she hadn’t seen in six years.
Now, finally, she was nearly back where it all began.
She sat aboard a starship, staring out at the darkness of space. Far in the distance, the glowing orb that was Xen Ptera hung like a tiny, waiting gift.
On its surface, her daughter, Nor, waited.
Around her, the ship buzzed with soldiers rushing about. Polished boots thudded on shining Arcardian-mined metal. The captain, with his clawed hands, was busy speaking in hushed tones over the com system. Each time he spoke, Klaren could hear the clacking of his massive teeth. The low, deep-chested rumble of a growl as he communicated with Xen Ptera, where she knew she would soon walk.
So many years she’d been away.
Now, it was nothing like the planet she had left behind.
On that fateful day she’d last seen it, Xen Ptera was already dying, but the surface was still a livable place, its citizens able to grow food and harvest water from great wells. Now it was a dead, barren wasteland that hung limp in the cradle of space.
“Home,” the queen whispered to herself.
Heavy footsteps approached behind her now. A hand caressed her bare shoulder. Lips touched the nape of her neck beneath her piled curls.
“You lied to me all these years,” she whispered. “You said they were holding their ground, still fighting. But that was never true, was it?”
“They weren’t lies, my dear Klaren,” Cyprian hissed in her ear, his warm breath sticking to her skin. “I just didn’t tell you the full truth. You are still my enemy, no matter the things we’ve been through together these past years.” His fingertips trailed farther down her neck and onto her arms, where they squeezed tightly enough to make her gasp in pain.
“When?” she asked. “When will I be on the ground?”
“As soon as you sign the treaty,” Cyprian said, lowering a holoscreen to her lap, the contract she’d requested ready for her signature.
“You’ll stay true to your promise?” Klaren asked as he knelt beside her, steadily avoiding her gaze. “You’ll leave Xen Ptera alone?”
“Sign the treaty, and you and your planet will be free.” Cyprian ran his fingertips down her arm, then took her hand in his.
Slowly, he lifted it to his lips.
“Swear it,” the queen said.
Without a moment of hesitation, Cyprian agreed.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. Perhaps it was because freedom was in her grasp. Perhaps it was because finally, after so many years trapped on Arcardius, she would be reunited with her husband.
Her daughter.
Her precious, precious Nor.
That thought, along with the hope that she hadn’t failed her mission just yet, was what made her place the palm of her hand on the scanner, initiating the peace treaty that would end this war once and for all.
The holo beeped as her print was recorded.
“Your turn, Cyprian,” the queen said, passing the holo to him.
She waited for him to sign the treaty, to seal Xen Ptera’s fate—and the Conduit’s, far beyond. But instead of placing his hand on the scanner, he stood and walked toward his red-uniformed pilot.
“Is the fleet ready for engagement?” he asked, handing the holo to a nearby soldier.
“Yes, sir,” the pilot responded. Cyprian glanced at her without a hint of emotion written on his face, then back to the pilot.
Klaren went still.
“Cyprian,” she said. “Where is Valen? You said he would go with me. I will not leave without my son.”
She could see his jaw working, see his body go rigid at the sound of her voice. He started to turn toward her, but at the last moment, he stopped.
“Cyprian, come here,” she tried again, but her voice had lost its cool calm, replaced instead by a trembling, pathetic note. “Come, and let me look upon you one last time.”
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Hands grabbed her shoulders, and Klaren cried out as her head was yanked back against the headrest.
Then she felt the cold, unfeeling grip of a strap locking around her throat. Forcing her to stare ahead, out at the distant planet.
“Release me!” she shouted. “I am the queen of Xen Ptera!”
The strap tightened in place. So tight that she could scarcely breathe.
“Cyprian!” she gasped. “Release me!”
All around her, soldiers were moving to action, tapping on dashboard screens, speaking into coms from which distant voices responded.
But the queen could only stare ahead, eyes widening as she saw a fleet of ships soar past. Massive, hulking black warships, the largest she had ever seen.
“Cyprian!” she cried again, her voice breathless.
His voice came from beside her. She twisted, fighting against the restraint on her throat. Then she froze in horror as he said, “Ready the weapons.”
Ice flooded through her.
She knew she’d been fooled, saw her mistake in an instant.
He had bested her, discovered a way around her powers. Discovered a way to fully overcome her compulsion.
The treaty was all a ruse to get her here, to pause the Xen Pterran soldiers while their queen hovered in the sky overhead, about to be returned home.
They wouldn’t mount a defense, fearing for her safety.
And now...now, they would all die.
“Please,” she begged. “Cyprian, stop this at once. I’ll do anything you wish. Please, spare them!”
His deep rumble of laughter sent a cold spike into her chest.
Then his lips were at her ear again. His hands were in her hair, yanking at the strands as he whispered, “Fool queen. You will bewitch me no more.”
He stood and gave the command to attack.
Frozen in place, she watched as the ships opened fire on Xen Ptera.
The retort was enough to shake the ship. To sink into the queen’s bones and cause her to cry out as she watched blazing, furious orbs of light soar through the darkness, heading straight toward the planet below.
In that moment, the queen knew she had failed.
All she could see was her daughter’s face.
Nor, alive and well, her eyes on the sky as she watched her death barrel toward her from the fringes of space.
The queen reached deep into her soul. She found that tiny, shimmering thread within, and with mental fingers, gripped it tight.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She begged the connection to work, begged for her daughter to hear her.
She sent forth an image of two ancient, bloody handprints pressing against a cold glass tower. Bodies lying beside her bare feet. The faraway Conduit, swirling and bright. The journey. The pain. The constant, trustworthy Darai, always willing to tell her the truth. To keep her in line with the light.
Before the bombs reached the planet, the queen sent forth an image of Valen’s face as she’d last seen it four years ago, tiny and screaming and so much like her own. “You are not alone. You have a brother,” she whispered.
She could almost feel the planet shake as the bombs hit. Like a bolt of lightning, fingers of blue fire stretched across it, weaving their way around every piece of the land.
With it, a scream erupted from the queen’s throat.
Xen Ptera went dark.
She screamed until she heard Cyprian’s voice beside her ear, his lips hot and wet against her skin.
“Scream, Klaren,” he said. “Scream, and see the proof that you have lost.”
She kept screaming, even as his soldiers gripped her head tight, and the tip of an electric blade appeared before her.
Her voice went ragged as they sliced her tongue from her mouth.
She finally fell silent as they unlocked her bindings.
As they dragged her limp body into a pod, sealed it shut and sent Klaren Solis, the Failed Queen from afar, barreling endlessly into the cold black skies.