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“Today should be the Day of Reconciliation. But from where I stand, it feels more like the Day of Shame,” Gavin said in a voice as hard as the glimmer in his eyes. “Keran Xeldar is fifty years old. From the day of his birth, he’s been raised to become the next Magnar. In all those years, no one, not a single one of you, ever challenged him for the throne. You know why? Because you knew you couldn’t defeat him. None of you can defeat him in a fair duel. I don’t think evenIcan.”
My initial surprise at hearing him call this a day of shame turned into complete shock upon hearing that last statement. I gaped at him as he continued with almost barely repressed anger.
“But today, you’re coming out in numbers to attack him as a group because he’s supposedly weak,” Gavin spat out with contempt. “Youare the weak ones thatthisshould be the time you would challenge him.” He pointed an angry finger in my direction. “Keran going to investigate the hybrid murders helped save us all from becoming puppets at the hands of traitors. Over a period of two weeks, he got eaten from the inside by nearly fifty larvae, with no painkillers. With four of them still eating their way through his heart, he defeated the traitors’ leader in a fair duel. AND YOU CALL HIM WEAK?!”
My throat tightened as I stared at Gavin, my heart overflowing with love and respect for the boy. Just as moved, Dawn blindly reached for my hand and gave it a tight squeeze. Like me and everyone else, we were riveted by his impassioned speech.
“Now he returns, having saved the lives of countless hybrids, uncovered a plot that could have destroyed both Braxia and Sarenia, and your instinctive reaction is to descend on him like a bunch of vultures?” Gavin asked. “Yes, he is in a weakened state after such an ordeal. Who wouldn’t be? Half of you cowards who challenged him wouldn’t have survived ten Kranax Beetle larvae, let alone fifty. Shame on you, and shame on your houses. You want to prove your strength and your worth as Braxia’s next leader? Fight him in two weeks when he’s fully recovered. But then, we all know you won’t.”
The clans who had challenged me tried to make noise at being thus called out but were quickly silenced by the crowd yelling at them.
“To Keran Xeldar, the next great Magnar of Braxia!” Gavin said, slapping his chest with his fist.
As one, the attendees rose to their feet and slapped their chests with their fists while repeating his words.
And just like that, Gavin Aldriss had ensured I would sit on my father’s throne.
Epilogue
Dawn
The couple of weeks that followed Marghor felt surreal. I still couldn’t believe how Gavin had turned the entire situation around. It confirmed what I had told Keran about his ability to rally people and earn their loyalty. But the reaction of the crowd really sealed it for me. Despite the few dissident voices, the Braxian population overwhelmingly loved Keran and supported his reign. Their dismay as the first challenges started popping up spoke volumes. In light of the prophesized hardships that loomed over the galaxy, the unity of our people would be vital if we wanted to come out on the winning side.
My life turned into a complete whirlwind of activity. Between helping with the preparations for Keran’s crowning, being introduced to the various clans as their future Dagna, and juggling with the hybrids, by the time each day ended, I had no energy left.
As much as I had hated Deimos, the forced training he subjected me to really paid off. I already knew everything about the main clans, from the names of their Clan Leaders and Councils, to their main trades and the hurdles they struggled with. That I would so easily ‘remember’ their names and have such an ‘instinctive’ understanding of their woes made me extremely popular with the clans. Naturally, I didn’t tell them I had an unfair advantage instead of some kind of eidetic memory.
To my pleasant surprise, and utter relief, no one seemed to have an issue with me being a hybrid. I’d expected them to take umbrage at the fact that Keran didn’t choose a pureblood, but it quickly became apparent that they hoped my off-world experience and knowledge would benefit Braxia the way Mercy’s had. Although I wouldn’t start any of my projects helping women grow in the short term, all the people I had mentioned it to in passing to assess their potential interest had been intrigued. Even their males offered little to no pushback.
That confused me at first until I remembered that it was the women’s underground market that had largely contributed to turning Braxia’s economic fate around. While this world would never become a matriarchy, in the ten years since Mercy’s arrival, the men had finally understood that only once women were allowed to properly thrive would their society achieve its full potential.
My father’s own clan welcomed me with open arms. Granted, awkward moments abounded, especially with my three older brothers, but we were taking it in stride. Even though my father turned out to be a bit of a braggart—a common trait with Braxian men—his obvious pride in claiming me touched me more than words could ever express. I didn’t doubt that my pending status as Braxia’s new Dagna played a role in it, but he also showed a genuine desire for us to form a father-daughter bond. More importantly—at least so far—he didn’t seem to want to use my relationship with Keran to try and bend the rules to his clan’s advantage or earn himself any special favors. I hoped things would remain that way as I truly wanted a family to belong to, beyond the one Keran and I would build together.
To my complete delight, more than two-thirds of the hybrids decided to stay on Braxia. The mama bear in me loved that I would get to keep them with me—even though many of them would in fact move to other cities far from the Xeldar compound. Quite a few had elected to give their birth clan another try. Others had decided to settle with a different clan where their skills could be leveraged or where they intended to learn a specific trade skill that clan had to offer. The Elders who had visited the hybrids in the barracks had played a major role in enabling those pairings.
Finding out Vintor would also remain on Braxia knocked the wind out of me. More surprising still, he had requested to join Krygor’s clan and train with his men. With his ego, I would have expected him to ask Keran to let him join his royal guard—not that Vintor really stood much of a chance on that front. The royal guards were all insane beasts that could likely break him with a flick of a finger. Then I wondered if it wasn’t simply to brag about hanging out with Gavin and his family. But then I realized he was planning long-term. In three years, Gavin would leave Braxia for the Western Quadrant, to join the Sentinel, the elite peacekeeping force run by the father of the leader of the Titans. Vintor intended to tag along.
My heart soared when Krygor accepted. If anyone could provide Vintor with the discipline he sorely lacked, it certainly was that man.
The remaining hybrids decided to accept Jardan’s contracts. The Guldan agent was ecstatic. Even with just the couple of hundred who signed up, Jardan would more than make up his investment training them. He was all the happier that Nirkon had made it out unscathed from this ordeal and freed from the Sarenians’ compulsion. Sadly for Jardan, Keran didn’t approve allowing him to pursue recruitment efforts directly on Braxia. However, should anyone express the desire to leave to pursue opportunities off-world, he would direct them his way.
In the meantime, Mercy and Hope embraced me like we’d been sisters our entire lives—a good thing too considering the close bond between our respective husbands. I still felt like the ugly duckling in their presence, they were so stunning. But never once did they make me feel like they found me lacking. Without their endless support, advice, and guidance, I’d probably have made a mess of many things.
Our completely different personalities should have made that friendship impossible, and yet it worked. Mercy was a firebrand with a tongue sharp enough to send even the most fearsome Braxian male running home to his mom in tears. She had zero fucks to give about anyone’s nonsense, and she had the combat skills to give a memorable spanking to anyone who gave her lip. Hope was the nurturer, the mediator, and the voice of reason. She hated conflicts and always strove to find a peaceful solution whenever she detected tension between people. Although clearly submissive, Hope was neither a people pleaser nor a pushover. Just like Mercy, if you messed with her or the people she loved, the Goddess have mercy on you, because Hope would show none.
And me? I didn’t quite know how my role in this trio should be described. I was just along for the ride and enjoying every minute of it. While Hope taught me how to be the perfect hostess when receiving dignitaries, Mercy taught me how to kick ass the minute she learned I had taken combat and self-defense lessons. She had been training the Braxian women as well as the Guldan females who had fled Guldar to join the rebellion that Tevek—Hope’s firstborn son—was co-leading to take down the dictator on their homeworld.
It turned out that Siona—Hope’s daughter—had also been training with Mercy. On top of being as breathtaking as her mother, Siona was turning out to be as lethal as any Veredian Warrior. Mercy had given her a full set of celesium armor, including the armored braid that the young woman was using with insane accuracy. Considering she would marry Prince Zerien in only a few months, such skills would come in handy against those who sought to depose him before his reign even began.
And right now, it was a coronation ceremony Hope and Mercy were preparing me for.
Turning this way and that, I admired myself in the mirror. Aside from complementing my eyes of the same color, my forest green dress hugged my body in a sinfully sexy way. Draped around the chest in a plunging neckline, it cinched at the waist and clung to my hips down the middle of my behind, before loosening in an asymmetric line down the middle of my thighs. Mercy dismissed my concerns about it being a little too provocative for such a formal event with a disdainful wave of her hand.
“Braxians are always horny and love flaunting their trophy wives. Let them drool over their Dagna, and flaunt it while you still have it. Anyway, it would be a crime to hide legs such as yours,” Mercy said in a tone that brooked no argument before waving in turn at Hope then at herself. “In case you haven’t noticed, our outfits are just as revealing.”
I glanced at each woman in turn and had to admit their dresses were as drool-worthy, if not more than mine.
“The real question is whetheryoufeel uncomfortable wearing it or just worry about what others may think of your dress,” Mercy said in a serious tone.
