38. Takhiss
TAKHISS
The embassy smells like rot wrapped in perfume. Like something polished and gold-leafed on the outside but sour underneath. The air’s too still, too sweet.
Autrua waits for me in the atrium, sitting behind a desk carved from some kind of crystalline bone. She doesn’t stand when I enter. Doesn’t even blink.
“Commander Takhiss,” she says. Her voice is silk over steel. “Or should I say… Defendant.”
I don’t flinch, but my throat tightens. I can hear my claws grinding together behind my back.
She doesn’t look smug. Just calm. Like she’s already won.
I don’t sit. I don’t offer her the satisfaction.
“You wanted to talk,” I say. “Here I am.”
She nods once, slow. “Yes. It’s time we stop pretending, don’t you think?”
She rises from her chair, robes whispering against the polished floor. Her eyes catch the low amber light, glinting like a blade’s edge. “The child must be acknowledged.”
“Vex is acknowledged,” I say. “By me.”
“And yet, he is hidden in a garage.” She shakes her head. “Vex is a rare case. This combination has never survived past infancy, and yet here he is. Strong. Healthy. And dangerous. The Coalition sees opportunity in that.”
I finally move, one step forward, close enough for her to smell the iron on my breath. “Say what you really mean.”
Her lips curve, faint. “Legacy.”
And there it is. The truth under all her honeyed rot. It’s about her name carved into some historical record as the priestess who ‘brought unity’ between species through my child’s blood.
I feel my jaw clench. “You’re using him.”
“I’m saving him,” she replies evenly. “Do you think hiding will keep him safe forever? You know better.”
The temperature in the room drops. My voice comes out low, rough. “You don’t speak his name.”
She smirks faintly. “The motion has been filed, Takhiss. A tribunal will convene within forty-eight hours to determine placement. You, of course, are welcome to testify.”
I stare at her, the edges of my vision going white. “You’re trying to take him.”
“I prefer the term ‘repatriate.’”
I laugh then. A sound too sharp, too bitter to be human. “You talk about symbols, priestess, but all I see is a hungry little politician clawing for relevance. You think binding my son to your schemes makes you a savior? It makes you a parasite.”
She doesn’t even flinch. “Careful. You’re treading close to treason.”
I lean in close, my voice low enough to make the guards at the door shift uncomfortably. “You’re not evolved, Autrua. You’re extinct and too proud to notice. If you touch my son—if you even think about putting your name in his file—I will end you.”
Her smile returns, soft and serpent-sweet. “And then what? You’ll be a murderer again. You’ll lose everything—including him.”
Her perfume fills my nose. It burns. I can’t breathe around it.
I turn away before I do something that’ll damn us all. My claws leave deep gouges in the crystalline floor. The guards track me with their rifles as I stride toward the exit.
Behind me, her voice follows, sing-song and poisonous. “You can’t fight the law, Takhiss. You’ve already lost.”
I don’t answer.
Outside, the air hits me like a slap. The Novarian sky’s gone storm-dark.
I walk fast, fists clenched, trying to bleed off the heat boiling in my chest. My compad buzzes.
Ella: Are you coming home?
I stare at the screen.
Takhiss: Yes.
But as I walk into the rain, I know one thing.
The home I’m going back to isn’t safe anymore.