A lot of the strange behavior of Sergei’s men suddenly made sense. There hadn’t been a lot of psychic control during the war, but it happened. Usually only when someone was desperate and needed canon fodder, though, because it was hideously impractical from a tactical perspective. A brainwashed soldier was little better than a toy to be used and discarded at will.
They couldn’t think for themselves, couldn’t make the snap decisions necessary to win a war. They acted on orders and that was it.
Wind, release, dispose.
Of course, the benefits were that they never questioned their superiors or hesitated, no matter the danger. It was a steep trade, but if you were going for maximum impact with no regard for longevity, then it could be effective.
Repugnant in the extreme, but effective.
Taevas’s lips thinned. “I want a full report on what the fuck has been going on by tomorrow afternoon.”
Constantin nodded. “Consider it done.”
After making his rounds amongst his people, Radek caught him on his way back to his nest.
Figuring the man had a question about his new duties, Taevas braced himself for a delay in getting back to his mate. What he didn’t expect was for a large plastic evidence bag to be shoved into his hands.
“This was found in the car with you. It looked important,” Radek gruffly explained. “Everything else I should be able to get by tomorrow, but this felt… different, so I grabbed it.”
Taevas looked down at the opaque plastic bag. The weight of it was familiar, but he couldn’t be entirely sure what it was until he pulled the seal apart with the tips of his claws.
Neatly folded inside was a robe of unsurpassed beauty. It was made of burgundy velvet, embroidered with golden thread, and stained with unmistakable dark splotches of blood.
His throat burned as he delicately extracted the sash his mate had so lovingly embroidered for him. Everything in him went still as he held it draped over his palm.
The golden thread gleamed in the light — as pristine and beautiful as it was when he watched her work from the comfort of her floor nest. It appeared shockingly untainted by the blood that crusted the velvet all around it, as if the thread had sucked up whatever drops had fallen on it.
Something that sounded suspiciously like his Alashiya’s voice whispered in the back of his mind as he thanked Radek and walked away, bloody sash in hand.
Chapter Forty-Eight
His dreams weredark and winding and full of strangers.
He got the impression that he was in a vast room. It was so large he couldn’t see the walls, let alone the exits. How he got there or why, he couldn’t say. All he knew for certain was that he’d been there before.
And that he wasn’t alone.
Alashiya stood beside him in the darkness. Her presence was utterly unmistakable. She spoke to him in that soft voice he loved so much, harmonizing with the whispers of so many others all around them. It felt a bit like he was in the middle of a clan meeting, but instead of being the leader, he was just another member tucked under the wing of a large, loving family.
Nothing they said made any sense to him. While their words were unintelligible, the tones and inflections were welcoming. He thought he might’ve been asked questions and perhaps he answered, but all he really knew for sure was that he was met with a palpable warmth and relief.
Warm hands touched his back and shoulders in the dark. Old and young lips skimmed his cheeks. Someone strong gripped his forearm in a warrior’s handshake. A pair of lithe arms squeezedhim in a welcoming embrace, and he got the sense that he’d just been accepted by a being that was not one person, but many hundreds — a consciousness that was new and unspeakably old.
Welcome, welcome,a woman’s voice whispered in the fading shadows of early dawn.Take care of our queen, argaman mlk.
The whispers slipped away as wakefulness returned, smudging his memories of that warm, dark world until they were little more than a gut feeling. It was an exquisite relief to wake up in his nest. It was even better to wake up beside Alashiya.
The entire ordeal of the last few weeks seemed like little more than a fever dream as he lay ensconced in his bed, swathed in silk sheets and the scent of his mate. Her body was slack under the weight of his arm. The room was silent except for the soft sounds of their breathing.
He didn’t open his eyes for a long time.
Alashiya’s home hadn’t beenloud,exactly, but it wasn’t quiet, either. Birdsong, crickets, the rush of wind through lush tree canopies — all of it bled through the thin walls of her dwelling. He didn’t realize he’d grown used to it until he experienced the silence of his roost again, where only the howl of wind whipping off the lake could make it through the sturdy walls.
And yet… when he strained to listen, he swore he could hear the murmurs of far-off voices. The only clear one he could make out was his mate’s.
The vaguest murmurs reached him. Snippets of phrases, soft sighs, and little hums filled his mind. If he focused hard enough, he thought he could make out the sound of Alashiya’s voice more clearly, but none of what she said made any sense.
Taevas frowned.Must be the pain meds.
