Page 73 of Triplets for the Barbarians

“As Solomon proved, huh?”

“Yeah, that was something else entirely.”

“You were right, though,” Garza says. “They wouldn’t have listened. You could’ve come to Shaytan with all the evidence in the world, and he would’ve found a way to spin the story back on the importance of adding human genes to ours.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, however. It’s done and dusted.”

He nods slowly. “Hopefully, for good.”

We both look up at those waiting for us at the top. Solomon’s widows wear brilliant white dresses, and the traditional gold and opal jewelry of Opal City wives—splendid rows adorning their slender necks and delicate chains spun around their beautiful horns.

Yossul and Fadai have matched the widows’ choice of white with elegant, military-style tunics, opting for gold and opal jewelry of their own. They have renounced their tribal colors altogether, pushing for white as a call for peace and unity. Fortunately, the rest of the Fire Tribe have also adhered to this new policy, and from what Garza has told me, so did many of the factions within the Sky Tribe.

“What do you think?” I ask the new de facto ruler of our sworn enemy. “How many of your clans will sign off on a peace treaty?”

“I’m not quite sure, but I dare keep an optimistic outlook. What other options do they have?” he chuckles dryly. “You wrecked all of our starships. We have no other way of leaving Sunna, not in this generation, anyway. It’ll take at least another decade or two for the surviving engineers to learn the science and the mechanics behind building and successfully launching vessels into space. And why would we want to do that when we could focus our resources on what we already have?”

“I’m guessing the three thousand women of Opal City have swayed the scales back in our favor.”

“And then some. We’ll need to reach a consensus on what will become of them.”

“We need to complete a census first.”

We reach our hosts at the top of the stairs while the Kreek brothers take a moment to admire me. I’ve chosen white, much like them, in the form of a long silken dress with gold-thread embroidery covering my shoulders and back. It’s a gorgeous work of fashion, woven and sewn in the Opal City tradition, and the fabric flows down my body like a warm liquid, like a second skin. My brown hair is pulled into a bun resting on my nape while gold and opal earrings dangle from my lobes.

“By the suns, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Yossul says, leaning in for a kiss.

Our lips meet softly, lovingly, before it’s Fadai’s turn. He’s hungrier, and they’re both due for one hell of a lovemaking session later tonight. It’s been a while since we've been together, as we’ve all had severe injuries to recover from.

“You two are remarkably handsome, as well,” I reply as I gently pull back.

“And Commander Garza isn’t too bad either,” Fadai laughs.

Garza gives him a sour look, prompting an eye roll from Fadai and a chuckle from me as I pat the stern Sunnaite on his back. “Oh, give it a rest, Garza. Let’s put the animosity behind us. It was never personal.”

“Fair enough,” Garza politely concedes. “Thank you for the compliment,” he tells Fadai, then turns to face Sarin, Neya, and Leela. “Might I add, Your Graces, that you make our suns pale in comparison?”

“You are too kind, Commander,” Sarin replies, blushing slightly.

Leela offers a smile. “Shall we expect you to stay for dinner after the peace talks conclude later tonight?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he says.

I’ve got a feeling Garza may have found more than peace in Opal City, but time will tell us more. Until then, I’m determined to see that treaty signed before sunset so we can move forward and rebuild our lives along with what’s left of Sunna.

Hope blooms in our chests for the first time in what feels like eons, and it’s a feeling we must take advantage of.

We follow the queens into the palace. There are traces of violence left here and there and along the walls where laser shots were fired, but it’s nothing a simple renovation cannot fix.

“How many clan leaders are we expecting?” I ask.

“From our side? All of them,” Yossul says.

“What about Garza’s?” Fadai replies.

Garza shrugs as the grand hall doors open before us with a sullen creak. “I’ve called every single lieutenant and captain among us, every name I could think of,” he says. “Some have answered and assured me of their presence, but there are still plenty of loyalists who cling to the hope that Shaytan’s vision might eventually come to fruition.”

“They’ll have to fall in line,” I say. “There is no other way. Egos aside, we have a world to rebuild, and if we cannot learn from the past, then this entire nightmare will simply repeat itself until the Sunnaites do learn or they go extinct.”

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