by Lexi Ander
Chimera were perfect for secret operations. They did not like to be noticed and despite their coloring, they mysteriously blended into the background. As the Chief Warlord, he had employed Chimera for covert missions that often ended in assassination, sometimes utilizing their impressive Three Form.
Chimera never shared how they melded into one form, nor did they let on if they had other abilities, and the Crown allowed that secrecy. Valdor once mentioned an ancient treaty they followed, but he never elaborated. Whatever their capabilities, they were never spotted on missions unless they wanted to be.
Wistfulness washed through him. His meme, Lilika, had been pregnant with Chimera triplets before she met and then mated with Echo, Sohm’lan’s father. When she gave birth to the triplets she became one of the revered females who were highly sought-after. Females who gave birth to Chimera were always unattached. The father of the young was never spoken of, but rumors abounded about a desert Sage who visited the female and her family to confirm the triplets were indeed Chimera. No matter who the triplets were born to, they were always barbless and white-scaled. When the Sage left, he would place a wreath on the door, a symbol proclaiming the meme blessed. Typically, the female and her family would raise the young until they were ten summers old, at which time, the triplets were taken to the Black Sands Desert. There, they entered the wasteland, searching for the sages who would help them unlock the Three Form. They would not exit the desert until their late teens, when they would join and serve in the military. It was the triplets’ choice if they contacted their meme and her family. As far as Sohm’lan knew, his older siblings never reached out to his meme.
Suitors of all walks of life flocked to these blessed females, hoping to be chosen as her lifemate. Her blessing was a good omen for any household, many believing she brought good fortune. As it was, Sohm’lan’s meme had met his father while she was pregnant and fell in love with him. Echo had been a bull with no reputation, no standing, no last name, no house, and no family. An orphan in all ways. It was as if he had been mysteriously born of the Waters of Poseidon, not existing until Lilika set eyes on him. Sohm’lan secretly suspected his father had been a thief or something just as disreputable. When Lilika’s white-scaled triplets were born, and her house was lauded for being blessed, Lilika turned down status and a life of comfort for one of poverty when she committed to Echo.
Sohm’lan knew nothing about his older brothers. His mem—he always found it odd to hear his wateryoung call Ashari meme since he had always called Lilika mem—had a few pictures but that was all. His brothers had disappeared into the Black Sands Desert when Sohm’lan was three, so he carried very few personal memories of them. He often wondered if any triplets serving under his command were his brothers. When he was younger, he imagined what they would look like, what they would say. As he grew older, he realized wishing did him no favors and he stopped thinking about them altogether.
Watching Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix tease Axis out of his reserved shell caused the old longing for his brothers to surface. He rubbed his brow ridge instead of rubbing his aching chest. His gritty eyes watered, and he could not bring himself to be alarmed over this uncharacteristic show of emotion. Did finally having Mestor as his amor make him yearn for other things he thought he could never have?
He wanted to say no. The abilities of Chimera had been on his mind ever since Alpha had explained about the Ancients and their young. The Ancients were supposed to have a form like their Alpha-Zetamite parents, but Star Eater and Poseidon both had different shapes either by choice or by preference. Would it not follow that young of an Ancient would also have a similar form or ability? Did Chimera tap into something like that, allowing them to meld together? Alpha was only a small portion of a much bigger Alpha. Could Chimera be three parts of one individual?
Unexpectedly, Star Eater entered the lounge followed closely by Madux who looked poised to catch the Ancient should he fall. Sohm’lan did not think it was an over exaggeration since Star Eater swayed on his feet. Axis rose as if to help, but Madux motioned him to stay.
The lounge was rather full, except for Sohm’lan’s corner. No one wanted to sit next to a brooding warlord. He reluctantly raised his hand to catch Star Eater’s attention before motioning him over. Star Eater’s haggard expression brightened. He crossed the large room, not balking when Madux grabbed his elbow to keep him from toppling to the side. Unlike when Sohm’lan first sensed Star Eater on Qestaire, the wave of energy that surrounded him was considerably subdued, almost as if it had been banked or perhaps depleted. Since the Ancient had turned Atizen to ash, well, that energy had to come from somewhere.
“Warlord Sohm’lan,” Madux greeted with an exhausted smile.
Star Eater flopped gracelessly onto the sofa. Sohm’lan blinked. Star Eater almost seemed as if his edges were melting together. He glanced to Madux to see if he saw the same. Madux huffed out a weary sigh. “You are wasting valuable energy trying to hold this shape. Nobody here is going to react negatively to your birth form.”
Madux shot him a quick glance, and Sohm’lan gave a quick nod of agreement.
“My other form is so dull,” Star Eater whined, sounding much like a sick youngling.
“I think it would be better. I have spent hours on the last healing session and this strain is undoing all my work,” Madux softly admonished.
Star Eater’s bright, red head rested on the back of the sofa. He turned, looking to Madux with large moon-eyes that were slightly bloodshot. “If that is what you want,” he finally replied.
Then Star Eater really did melt in on himself. His long, pointed ears, his dark eyes, and bronze skin all reformed. He retained a bi-ped shape that filled his clothing but that was it. Even his face was blank without virtue of eyes, nose, or mouth. Madux tugged on Star Eater’s hand, guiding him to lay on the cushions and put his head in Madux’s lap.
“Both of us were going a little stir crazy,” Madux said as he ran his palm over Star Eater’s head. “We have been in the cabin since we left Qestaire. I did not know he would insist on going so far from my quarters, otherwise I would have made him wait.”
“Is the V’Saar venom that potent? Alpha said the Ancients could not be destroyed.” Sohm’lan immediately felt guilty and wanted to take the question back as soon as he asked. Alpha’s son was too sick to be interrogated, even if Sohm’lan was only curious.
“He was running low on energy when he arrived at Qestaire, not aware that he would need more. He expended what was left to terminate Atizen, leaving himself weak. Plus, the venom is part poison and part… it is like a serum that allows the V’Saar to take over a person. He would not have died, but he would have been sick for a long time. If we stopped close to a star and allowed him to sit in the radiation, he would regain his health faster, instead of gleaning the small amount of energy my healing gives him.”
Sohm’lan was surprised and intrigued. “He eats radiation?”
Madux smiled softly, the iridescent rosettes on his cheeks catching the light. “It is why he is called Star Eater. He has shared much while going through the healing sessions. It is easier for him to talk while I work, and I like learning. It helps to pass the time since we have to be still for hours on end.” His blue eyes softened as he gazed down at Star Eater. “He does like to talk.”
“I have wondered why they are called Ancients and not Alpha-Zetamites,” Sohm’lan mused aloud. It was one of a hundred questions that had been sparked by recent events.
Madux’s large hand slowed the petting and his gaze turned inward. That was a look that Zeus and Dargon sometimes got when speaking to Alpha.
“He says that he and his siblings are the same as the Alpha-Zetamites in many ways, but they are also very different. Alpha and Zeta were born in the primordial waters far from here, closer to the center of the universe. Their offspring are part of them, but also of the areas they were conceived and born in. He and his siblings are primordial beings, carrying affinities of those locations. This m
akes each of his siblings quite different from each other. He can literally consume stars, gathering and holding the energy. Your Poseidon’s affinity is obviously water. These differences led them to take on their own name, Ryo’Pardeep, but that was lost to time and we started calling them the Ancients.”
Sohm’lan frowned. “How are you not toxic from the radiation?” he asked Star Eater, sure now that he was listening and not snoozing on Madux’s lap.
“Oh, he is for the first couple of weeks after he eats but once his body processes and stores the energy, he is safe to be around. It is the reason he did not eat before answering the Qrxzl’s summons for help.”
Star Eater rolled and wrapped his arms around Madux’s waist. The Chi-Lin did not seem to mind the familiarity. Sohm’lan stared harder at Madux. Were his cheeks more hollow than the last time he saw him? Did he look a little thinner?
“Are you eating properly? You have to be expending a good deal of energy yourself to heal him.”
“No, no, it is fine,” Madux barely got out before Star Eater was scrambling to rise. The reassurance was not meant for Sohm’lan.
Grumbling about foolish young, Sohm’lan sat up, searching for a lounge attendant. The ones he saw were already helping other groups.
“Warlord Sohm’lan, is there something you need?” He had not noticed Axis and his triplets crossing to join them.
“Madux needs a nutrient-rich meal. I am waiting for—”
“I will take care of it,” Cilix hurried off.
Axis sat, Cadmus and Phoenix taking places on either side of him. After Cilix went in search of food, Star Eater calmed, laying back down in Madux’s lap, arms wound once again around his waist. Axis had a wry smile as he watched Star Eater. Sohm’lan barely kept from tapping his nails on the armrest of his chair. He had no idea why Axis and the Chimera had joined them, but they seemed entirely content to just sit quietly. It was strangely comforting.
Cilix returned with a tray heaped with steaming fish and the white, sticky grain that was usually doused with sweet spices. Madux purred and licked his lips, showing his small but sharp fangs. Oddly, Sohm’lan noticed that Cilix and his brothers were not only intently watching Star Eater, but him as well. Their awareness of him could be explained by the fact that he was their superior, but he sensed their attention did not have anything to do with his station. He tried to ignore them.
Annoyed with himself and his inability to turn off his observations, he was ready to find Mestor and convince him to be done for the day. Then the room went quiet. In the doorway stood his prince. He could not help the rush of pheromones he emitted on seeing Mestor, and he froze when those sunrise-yellow eyes landed on him. Mestor immediately looked delighted.
He rose to his feet. “If you will excuse me,” he murmured as he slipped from the conversation circle. Mestor’s saunter telegraphed that he should get them to privacy quickly. Instead of going to his amor, he went to the closest exit, knowing his retreat would trigger the predator in his lover. He was perfectly fine with being the prey this time. The thrill of the chase warmed his blood, but Sohm’lan would not make things easy on Mestor. If he wanted to be the aggressor this time, then Mestor would have to earn the right to hold Sohm’lan down.
Hurrying around a corner and to the nearby lift, Sohm’lan had to admit that these last couple of weeks had not been dull. His daily routine had been thoroughly broken and he did not mind at all. He had felt old for many summers and he thought it was normal. But Mestor had woken a side of him that had long been dormant, and the robustness of youth rejuvenated him. He wondered how long it would last.
The lift doors opened onto the royal level and Sohm’lan stepped off. At the other end of the corridor, the other lift arrived. He hurried and was at Mestor’s door, palm on the panel when Mestor stepped into the hallway, his nose lifted in the air and eyes blazing with need. The door behind Sohm’lan swished open and he backed into the room, unbuttoning his uniform. All right, perhaps he was not going to make Mestor work too hard. He needed to feel Mestor’s claws against his scales, sooner rather than later.
Tail lashing, Mestor stalked slowly toward him. When he reached the open door, he leaned with both hands gripping the frame. “Are you running from me, Warlord?”
He dropped the garment on the floor and reached for his pants. “Not today, Prince.”
“Good,” Mestor rumbled, then sprung into the air.
Sohm’lan smiled and dodged, retreating to the sleeping chamber. Mestor’s hot breath was his only warning before he was tackled onto the sleeping platform.
Chapter Seventeen
Mestor
* * *
Mestor stood outside his brother’s private quarters breathing shallowly. He knew he was acting foolishly but could not seem to help himself. They were only a few hours from Valespia, and he had a list of things to accomplish, yet he was stalling. Sohm’lan was on the other side of the door, and the pheromones he knew so well lingered here, enticing him, calling to him. And yet, he hesitated. Sohm’lan was going to be angry. Mestor had risen for the day and left his quarters without waking Sohm’lan and engaging in their morning tumble. He loved groggy, slightly grumpy Sohm’lan and he craved the scrape of scales, but this morning he left without a word. Even now, he did not think he could be around Sohm’lan and not give in, going back on the vow he’d made to himself to keep Sohm’lan safe.
There was a tug on his twin bond. Azaes knew he was there and urged him to come. Now. Gulping down a fortifying breath, he placed his hand on the panel, opening the door. Azaes and Sohm’lan sat at the table.
“You are just in time!” Azaes said, tapping on the screen.
Mestor darted a glance at Sohm’lan whose attention was solely on him. The familiar curl of want unrolled in his belly. Being the sole focus of Sohm’s attention was heady and, if he was not careful, it would intoxicate him again. He needed to stay clearheaded. He was afraid of what he would agree to if he was distracted again.
“I am signing and filing the information that will make Zeus’s kits my heirs if you and I die without young.” Azaes met his gaze. “We do not know what is waiting for us once we leave hyperspace. Did you approve Sohm’lan’s request for Chimera, soldiers, and Monticore to accompany Zeus and the Oethra 7?”
“Yes,” Mestor replied. “They are preparing to board the Oethra 7 now. I’m also assigning Sohm’lan as well as an additional two warlords to Zeus.” He swore the temperature dropped several degrees. He did not dare glance at Sohm’lan, knowing that he would have some explaining to do once they were alone. He’d made this decision without discussing it with Sohm. Yes, he was acting as Azaes’ Chief Warlord but it felt like a betrayal. Sohm was not just a member of Atlainticia’s military and a personal advisor to the throne, he was also Mestor’s lover. He was sending Sohm away for purely selfish reasons and not the strategic decision he was portraying it to be.
“Excellent! I agree with the selection. Sohm’lan is the most experienced warlord and capable of keeping Zeus and his mates safe.” Azaes frowned and glanced at Sohm’lan. “Our brother will need your guidance. Father and I have talked about Zeus becoming one of my warlords since Father discovered the corruption in the Academy. This will be the perfect opportunity to get him used to the idea. I wish I could send more soldiers with you. The Oethra 7 will only hold so many, giving you a total of three hundred and fifty warriors and the Monticore.”
“We will not disappoint you. I will do my best to guide and protect Prince Zeus. He is a natural leader, though he does not realize it. I have no doubt that he will take to it like a fish to water. I do worry about his impulse control, though. Protecting the three of you has had its trials since you run into danger without thinking things through,” Sohm’lan replied stoically, his blank mask in place. Mestor hated seeing it after these last twenty glorious days of watching Sohm’lan’s open expression.
He would not retract his decision. He would make the choice to put Sohm’lan on the Oethra 7 every time.
They were the least likely to see combat and Mestor wanted Sohm’lan out of harm’s way. His amor would be offended, but Mestor could not override the clawing need to see Sohm’lan out of danger. He could not bear it if Sohm’lan was injured.
“I am nowhere near as impulsive as Zeus,” Mestor groused, attempting to bring some levity to the moment, to get Sohm’lan to grin, if only slightly.
Azaes expression softened. “I have no doubts you can keep him safe.” He tapped the screen of his data pad and the official forms were filed and stored. “You should also be aware that the Feteine have divided their numbers differently. Once we are in Valespian space, if there are jamming devices or satellites like the Feteine suspect, then two will dismantle them. Two will jump back and report to the Feteine fleet. Of the two who were supposed to stay on The Gorgon, Europa will go with Zeus instead.”
He tried to copy Sohm’lan’s blank mask and knew he failed when Azaes smirked at him. “I approved their request because she would have the ability to keep us apprised of the welfare of the Oethra 7. With luck, we will be able to contact the Galactic Imperials or the one of the Crown Princes upon arrival. If they accept the Feteine’s offer of assistance, then we will have additional backup if we meet with resistance.”
“Will Zeus be able to make this appointment with the Dire D’Noss Overlord Wrik Brouq’yd’Se?” Sohm’lan asked.
“I told him to spend these last hours with Dargon.” Azaes scratched the scales at his throat. “Ever since Zeus discovered that Dargon and Alpha hid how the pregnancy affected Alpha, I have helped him to free up his time by sending him mechanics who can follow his schematics to complete the upgrades on the Oethra 7.”