Page 94 of Chained

“I had heard Gryn were feral.” Draco flashes his fangs. “But I would never get between a warrior and his mate.”

He turns to the other two Sarkarnii. “Let’s get this wrapped up,” he says before returning to Maxym and me. “And I need to hear all about what the Bogarok and Varangy wanted.”

Draco takesup a considerable amount of room in what I thought was a pretty spacious dwelling. He’s been supplied with plenty of food by Tibi, who fussed around him as if he was royalty (something he clearly felt he deserved), and plenty of mead-wine from Retah.

I’m sat on a slightly lumpy gladiator because he refused to let me go anywhere else, especially with the Sarkarnii in close proximity.

“Tatatunga was being used as a base for the Galactic Council to store their special information,” Retah begins. “Turns out, it was under the dome.” He nods at Maxym.

“Special information?”

“Their dirty secrets. How much they are involved in the trafficking of species like me, like my mate,” Maxym growls. “All the other things they did, while pretending to be upholding order in the galaxy.”

Maxym has removed his helmet and is taking full advantage of the though bond, where Retah and I have looked at the info on the data cubes.

I might not have wings but mine are itching like crazy. He wants to be anywhere but here, and his desire to nest is something which has my heart pounding.

Not least because of what he wants to do to me in it.

“And this information”—Draco leans back in the chair—“it’s for sale?”

“No!” I say.

“Yes!” Retah says.

Draco moves his gaze between the two of us, smoke curling from one nostril as he contemplates our response.

“We don’t want to sell it.” I glare at Retah. “It needs to be somewhere safe, somewhere the Galactic Council will never get their hands on it.”

“I’m not sure all of the Galactic Council have hands,” Retah says, seemingly impervious to my ire, “but Cleo is correct, which is a shame. Those on the Council who have benefitted from what is contained on these cubes will fall if they are no longer able to access them. It means freedom for those enslaved by their work, and it means justice for those killed.”

He looks at Maxym long and hard.

“I will not be driven by revenge,” Maxym says, “nor violence, nor the fight.” His arm curls around me, hand spanning mystomach. “I have my mate, my fate, my guiding star. What’s on those cubes is no interest to me, not anymore. I make no claim over them.”

Draco releases a cloud of smoke and downs the rest of a tankard of mead-ale.

“You’re far too honorable, gladiator,” he says. “Far more honorable than any on the Council.” He lifts his lip, showing the sharpest of white fangs. “It’s no secret the Sarkarnii don’t trust the Council. After all, we ended up in the Kirakos because some within wished to hide their involvement in the destruction of our world.”

Retah huffs out a breath, dipping his horns at Draco.

“Yours too, Prince Baronn,” Draco acknowledges, “although you seem to have carved a life for yourself, here.”

“My family made many grave errors with both their approach to the Liderc and what happened on Kaeh-Leks. It is something I will be paying for for the rest of my life,” Retah says, his voice filled with infinite sadness.

“We all lost much,” Draco intones, “but we’ve been able to take those who controlled the Liderc to task.” He turns his attention on Maxym and me. “There is room on our planet for you, should you wish it. I can always accommodate an honorable warrior and his resourceful mate. And I will happily protect the information you have liberated within our hoard.”

MAXYM

Dirk races across the debris filled square towards a female and a youngling. He picks them both up and spins them around as they shriek with joy.

“Not a bad day’s work,” Cleo says, slipping her hand in my feathers. “And it turns out he was telling the truth after all.”

Retah is inspecting some of the debris with Nate, who has removed his dome tunic and is now wearing one of Retah’s shirts, drowning in it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Pryax making his way through the ruins. He spots me, lifts a hand in greeting and slinks away.

“Did we do the right thing?” I wonder out loud, not that I even need to speak, given the strength of our thoughtbond. “Those were hard won.”

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