5
The antechamber to the Emperor's private study was quiet.Not the peaceful kind.The kind that pressed against his eardrums and made him want to check his weapons.
Raaevik stood with his back to the wall, staring at a spot on the opposite bulkhead.He didn't pace.Pacing was for rookies and males who hadn't learned that movement drew the eye.He was neither.
His hands were clasped behind his back, hidden from view.Good thing, too.His knuckles were a mess… raw, split, and blooming with bruises.
Stupid.The self-disgust was like acid in his throat.Losing control in front of junior warriors.Letting Thyaar drag him off like a brawling recruit.
Squeezing his hands into fists, he let the sharp spike of pain ground him.He deserved the pain, deserved whatever the emperor was about to dish out.A demotion?Reassignment to the outer systems patrol?Execution for conduct unbecoming a sub-commander of the Imperial Guard?
Right now, execution felt like the mercy option.At least if he were dead, he wouldn’t have to smell her on his skin.
He'd scrubbed himself raw in the shower, turned the settings up until his skin burned, but the scent of Emily Evans, sun-warm earth, and something sweet, like those little yellow flowers that grew on the cliffs of home, taunted his memory.
The door to the study hissed open.
"Enter."
Daaynal's voice.Calm.Authoritative.It didn’t sound like he was about to order a summary execution, but Emperors were tricky like that.They smiled while they signed your death warrant.
Raaevik pushed off the wall and walked in.
The room wasn't grand.It wasn't the Throne Room with all its drama.This was where the real work happened.Screens floated in the air, scrolling with data streams.The emperor sat behind a huge desk, not looking at the screens but at a small, battered dataflex in his hand.One of hisdrakeenwas hunkered down in the corner, seemingly powered off.But the glint of metal at Daaynal’s neck proved he wore the link-band, which meant thatdrakeencould be up and combat-ready at the speed of thought.
Raaevik looked at his emperor.
Daaynal looked tired.The crown was gone, replaced by the simple leather tie holding back his dark hair.He looked less like a god-destined emperor and more like a man who hadn't slept in three days.
Stopping in front of the desk, Raaevik snapped a salute, fist to chest.
"My Emperor."
Daaynal looked up.Green eyes swept over him.They lingered for a fraction of a second on Raaevik's hand, then moved up to his face.
"At ease, Raaevik."
Dropping his hand, he kept his spine rigid."I am ready to receive your judgment, Your Majesty.”
Daaynal blinked, setting the dataflex down."Judgment?What on Lathar for?”
"For the incident in the training hall last night.My conduct was...undisciplined."
"Ah."Daaynal leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking."I heard you took apart three lower-level warriors and nearly took Thyaar's head off."
"Thyaar is fast.His head was in no danger.”
A ghost of a smile touched the Emperor's lips."He is fast.And you are stressed.I assume the adrenaline from the extraction yesterday hadn't fully dissipated?"
Raaevik hesitated.He recognised an out when it was handed to him.A perfect, clean excuse handed to him on a platter.Yes, Your Majesty.Just combat stress.Just the lingering fight-or-flight from pulling your mate-to-be out of a sabotaged shuttle.
It was a lie.It was the scent of her fear and the feel of her small, soft body pressed against his that had driven him to violence.It was the wordMINEscreaming through his mind until he thought his skull would crack.
"Something like that," Raaevik said.
"Understandable."Daaynal waved a hand, dismissing the incident entirely."We are warriors, not bots.Sometimes the energy needs an outlet.Though perhaps try not to break my junior warriors?They are expensive to train."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
