“She was assigned to the trainer suites. One of her clients kept a human pet—a male, beautiful, by all accounts. Strong. Covered in hair. There were rumors some Imperial women had secretly paid credits to have sex with him.” Lira pauses, lowering her voice. “This particular human pet was part of one of the experimental bonding programs. His trainer said he’d been gentled. But he hadn’t.”
“What happened?”
“One evening, Rae went in to deliver a routine maintenance report. The male pet lunged at her. Bit at her neck, tore straight through her uniform, stripped her, and raped her.” Lira traces a line along her own neck and then down her body. “But, it wasn’t the wound or the rape that changed her. It was what happened after. The Imperial trainer blamedher. Said she’d provoked his pet, said it was her scent and her manner. He blamed the previous owner of the Celestial Spire for allowing women to work off-planet. The IGC ruled it an ‘unfortunate misunderstanding.’ Had this happened on-planet, she would have gotten justice and the trainer would have also been punished, but as it happened in the man’s sphere, off-planet, the human pet was put down, and Rae was given some compensation from the previous owner, and he transferred her to Interspecies Relations.”
I exhale slowly, taking all of that in. “So now she hates all humans.”
“She hates being reminded that she was ever powerless and publicly did not receive the justice she thought she deserved,” Lira says. “Humans make her remember it.”
Before I can reply, the sound of a loud crack of staffs on metal splits the air. The Umbral Cohort slam them down in unison, and lightning arcs across the vaulted ceiling, turning the entire dining hall into a storm of light. Every conversation dies. Chairs scrape as hundreds of staff rise to their feet in a single motion, and I rise too,my heart pounding.
The Sovereigns enter walking side by side through the great doors like royalty, their grey skin luminous under the shifting currents of light.
I bow with everyone else, but I can’t stop myself from stealing a glance upward. They are fascinating and incredibly handsome; identical except for Rafe’s short hair and Lorian’s long hair.
What am I thinking?These aren’t men in some billionaire romance—they’re aliens. And they preside over horrors that humans like me can’t escape.I cannot allow myself to romanticize them.
Still, when they reach the High Table at the very pinnacle of the tiers and sit, I feel as though I’m watching gods take their thrones.
The hall remains silent until Sovereign Lorian rises. His silver eyes sweep the tiers, and then he begins to pray, but not to any god I know.
“We give thanks to the goddesses,” Lorian's voice carries clearly through the hall. “For their guidance in our endeavors and their protection over those who serve.”
The entire hall responds in unison, “Through devotion, we ascend.”
As I take my seat, I think about that phrase, it sounds so familiar. Then it comes to me; it was in the holographic display during my first day, it’s the motto of the Empire.So much for them being real Reima Two men still spouting the motto of the Empire.
“Tonight we welcome new staff to the Celestial Spire,” Lorian continues. “Will all new employees please stand and identify themselves?”
My legs feel weak as I rise with three other beings scattered throughout the hall. When it’s my turn, my voice sounds small. “Eve Eden, receptionist and human liaison.”
“We welcome you, Eve Eden,” the hall responds in unison. “May your service bring honor to the Celestial Spire.”
I have to bow now; Lira has coached me on this. “I pledge mydedication to Sovereign Directors Rafe and Lorian, and my loyalty to the prosperity of the Ascendant Alliance.”
Lorian approves of us all. “We welcome you. Now be seated.”
As I sit, I catch some of my colleagues glancing at me with expressions I can't read. The blue-skinned being leans slightly toward their neighbor and whispers something that makes them both look at me with what might be sympathy.
The meal begins with servers bringing elaborate dishes I don't recognize. The conversation at my table gradually picks up, and I find myself listening to my colleagues discuss the Sovereigns with an almost worshipful reverence.
“Did you hear about Sovereign Rafe's latest acquisition?” asks one of my Reima Two colleagues. “He outmaneuvered three other hotel chains to secure exclusive rights to the Vik System’s tourism.”
“Brilliant,” murmurs another. “The profit margins alone...”
“And Sovereign Lorian,” Lira adds, her voice carrying that same breathless admiration, “returning from the Octopod Syndicate with our stolen cargo. They say he walked into their stronghold with just a few of his Umbral Cohort men and demanded our property back with interest.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Stolen cargo?”
“Pirates had intercepted one of our transport vessels,” the scaled colleague explains. “Took merchandise worth millions. Most companies would have written it off as a loss. But Shadow Sovereign Lorian...” He shakes his head in amazement. “He tracked them to the Abyssal Nexus and retrieved everything with interest.”
“Dangerous?” I ask.
“Incredibly,” Lira says. “The Octopod Syndicate doesn't exactly follow galactic law. But he came back without losing a single man. They say their leader, Kry himself, handed over the cargo personally, rather than face Sovereign Lorian's wrath.”
“The Sovereigns are remarkable men, but I would never want to be on the wrong side of them,” another colleague adds. “They can make people disappear.”
The receptionist tier goes quiet for a minute and I pretend to look at how the silver wine sparkles in my glass. I take a sip to steady my nerves. It tastes like starlight would if starlight had a flavor: bright, effervescent, with notes of something sweet that makes my tongue tingle, and it tempers the strangeness of all of this.
