Jorusk looks like a devil, the way his chest glows like hot coals. My Storm calms when I turn to him. “ABR?”
He nods. “Next month.”
I want to tell him I’m signed up too, but I can’t, not out here in public. But there’s something about him that eases my stress.Someone else who might have my level of power is signed up.
Harklos spins his staff into a ready position. “We do not lie like you do, Luslym. It’s your trade deal with the Denarso that got us into this! They took our females to control our contracts!”
I’m starting to run out of options that will keep them all free of jail and this from becoming an intergalactic relations incident.Allele, would you accept Jorusk?
His Storm is not a familiar kind, but I sense it is honorable. He is permitted.
Before I can tell Jorusk, Mindorans charge Thorians. There aren’t enough guards. I’m knocked around until I manage to grab a Mindor and tear them off a Thorian, then block the staff of a Thorian from hitting a Mindor. When I can’t keep up, and desperation rises, my Storm takes over.
“Get back!” I roar. No one listens except Amphirans and Jorusk.ButI cannot tamp down the building rage.
Why are we fighting when there are so many struggling just to survive in this war-torn universe?
Tension binds my bones and riddles my muscles with hot energy until I can’t contain it. A wave of dancing electric threads balloons out from me. The pulse in my core slows and strengthens during the electric release, then returns to normal, leaving me steaming.
Bodies fall as if I am a bomb, leveling those around me like they are Nebs, and I am the fallen ship.
Jorusk stumbles backward but doesn’t collapse like the others. He pats himself with his hands like he expects holes from my arcs. But he seems almost unharmed.
I am out of breath, my shoulders heaving with the release, but my Storm feels almost unhindered. It’s no surprise why the kings banned Storm displays based on my destruction. Guards can use them to protect. Still, my level of power, the force I’ve exuded, was barely contained.
As both sides writhe and pick themselves up, I notice civilians watching me in shock. A young child eagerly waves at me from a storefront. I force a smile and wave back, wondering how anyone could see me as anything but a monster.
The child’s mother corrals him but doesn’t turn him away like I expect. Instead, she looks happy about the mess I’ve caused: the overturned carts, the charred marks on the floor, and the puffs of smoke.
I turn to Jorusk. “If you accept, I will transport you where you need to go.” Scanning the cargo crews still dusting themselves off, I add, “If that is sufficient for the rest of you to continue like normal without incident.”
Clan Leader Harklos picks himself up, gives Jorusk an apologetic look, and then wipes the blood from his nose like it’s just another day at work.
Pack Leader Luslym snarls, runs a hand over his blue, furry neck, then turns away. “Fine. Just get him out of my sight.”
Eluni eases through the crowd as Blaize appears at my side.
“You’re still sparking, Aura,” Blaize mutters.
“I can’t stop it.” The tingling momentum won’t ease.
“Not even after that blast?” Eluni gasps, looking me over.
I shake my head.
“You need to discharge. Go to the boom room. I’ll prep Jorusk for takeoff,” Blaize remarks. He’s clearly overheard our conversation.
Jorusk glances back at me as Blaize encourages him toward our ship.
“Prince Aurelius!”
I close my eyes and swear at the sound of my father’s voice.Why is he using my real title in public? And how did he get here so fast?
Royal portal, Allele offers.
Of course, the lazy, entitled shit can’t walk himself here.
When I look up, Luslym’s eyes are wide with panic as he tracks my father’s quick, bold steps in our direction. “Prince? Oh, shit.”
