Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(45)

“Okay, Kal said Saedii was a Templar,” I murmur, slipping out from behind my console. “Which basically means she’s the commander of a capital warship on active duty. You don’t get to that rank in the Unbroken without being bad news, all the way.”

“Understood,” Ty nods.

“Remember, most Unbroken once belonged to the Warbreed Cabal like Kal. Warbreed respect strength. Prowess. Fearlessness.”

Ty meets my eyes as he shrugs on his Aurora Legion uniform jacket. “I have every confidence you’ll be all that and more, legionnaire.”

I shake my head. “You should be the one doing the talking here, Ty.”

“You’re my Face, Scar. You’re trained for this. I don’t speak Syldrathi nearly as well as you, I don’t know the customs, I—”

“You’re our Alpha, Bee-bro,” I say. “If you want them to see you as a leader, you need to be front and center. And our family has history with these people. Kireina IV was the worst defeat the Syldrathi suffered in the whole war. These bastards will remember Dad’s name.”

I meet his stare, my lips pressed thin.

“And it’s our name, too, Ty.”

He tightens his jaw, breathing deep. I can see Dad in his eyes now. The memory of that little aluminum box full of ashes arriving just in time for our party.

Happy birthday, kids.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let’s not keep our hosts waiting.”

We march down the corridor to the main hangar, gathering at the loading ramp. Zila is quiet as the grave. I glance at Aurora, see her jaw clenched, fear in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin. I peer hard at her right eye, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of a glow there, no hint of her power. Still, I saw her rip the Hadfield apart with just the strength of her mind, and if she loses it here …

“You doing okay, sweetie?” I ask.

“I told Kal,” she mutters, shaking and furious. “I told him. I saw him get hurt in my mind and he still went charging off like an idiot.”

Tyler’s hand hovers over the release button. “You didn’t happen to see anything about what’s coming next, did you?”

She shakes her head. “And I don’t want to look. I thought I was … getting better. I thought I had a grip on it, but …”

“It’s okay, Auri,” Ty says, squeezing her hand. “Just stick near me. I’m sure Kal’s fine. We’re gonna get out of this, okay?”

“You got a plan?” I ask.

“Do you?” he asks, meeting my eyes.

I pat the diplomacy stream logo emblazoned on my sleeve: that little flower in its ring of gold. “Tactics aren’t my department.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You might wanna practice. One day, you could find yourself doing this without me.”

“Not today,” I shrug. “So go get ’em, Tiger.”

Tyler presses the release, and the door opens with a low electronic hum. The ramp extends onto the Andarael’s deck, and I can see that the interior is dark metal, aglow with blood-red light. The design here is stunning: sleek lines and gentle curves, as graceful as the hundred Unbroken warriors waiting for us.

Their faces are ethereal and gorgeous, fierce and cruel silver hair tied back in an assortment of ornate braids. Each wears a beautifully crafted suit of black tactical armor, daubed with flowing Syldrathi script, decorated with trophies of battle. Each carries a disruptor rifle and a pair of silver blades at their back. They stand tall in neat rows, lining our exit into the bay. And waiting at the end, that crossbowesque agonizer at rest on the dangerous curve of her hip, is Kal’s sister, Saedii.

All Syldrathi are beautiful, but good looks definitely run in our Mr. Gilwraeth’s family. Queen bitch she may be, but Saedii is drop-dead, maybe-I’m-gay-after-all gorgeous. Her olive skin is poreless, flawless. Her long black hair is swept back from a heart-shaped face that could launch a million ships. Her eyes are smoldering violet, framed by that perfect stripe of black paint. A silver chain of what might be severed thumbs dangles around her neck. She talks in Syldrathi, her voice low and musical, almost as if she sings rather than speaks.

“Welcome aboard Andarael, human filth.”

And with a smile, she slings that agonizer off her hip and fires right at Auri.

It happens in a split second, almost too quick to track. Auri cries out, brings her hands up, but before she can invoke her gift, those red bands wrap themselves around her and crackle to life. Her scream rings across the bay as she tumbles to the deck, bucking and thrashing.

“Auri!” Tyler shouts. He drops to his knees beside her, touches her shoulder, and is rewarded with a crackling shock of agonizer energy. Drawing his hand back with a hiss of pain, he surges to his feet and finds a hundred disruptor rifles pointed at his chest. I’m not too worried about him—Ty’s not stupid enough to charge a hundred armed Syldrathi killers, and his language isn’t going to get too offensive, because Tyler Jones, Squad Leader, First Class, doesn’t curse.

Scarlett Isobel Jones sure as hells does, though.

In fluent Syldrathi, no less.

“What is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?” I shout.

“You speak our language.” Saedii’s eyes glimmer as she looks me up and down. “An amusing trick, little one.”