Alien Soulmate (Paranormal Romance Aliens) (10 page)

"This is a disaster," Ithril said, slamming his hand down on the table. "This is a disaster, do you understand me? Why isn't this working? Why don't people want the revenge against these beasts that we deserve?"

The Council was mostly silent at the barrage of questions, sitting there with their heads bowed and their eyes on the shiny surface of the table instead of on their irate leader. Besides, what could they even say that would calm him down.

Ithril was right when he said that this was a disaster.

More Sitheri had died since he had started this campaign than in the last fifty years combined, and the people were not pleased. They made no efforts to contain their disdain for what had happened, and just moments before, the guards had dragged away a hysterical woman who had been yelling about the death of her husband for senseless means.

Ithril felt like his head was about to explode. It wasn't meant to be this hard. He had expected… Well, apparently it didn't matter what he had expected because none of that was going to happen.

"Perhaps if we came up with a better plan," one of them ventured. "I understand your need for vengeance, Leader, but this only seems to make more of our people die, which is the opposite of revenge."

Anger sparked in him. "Do you think that I don't know that?" Ithril snapped. "If you have nothing useful to say, then you should keep your mouth shut."

No one else seemed like they wanted to venture an opinion, and Ithril snarled under his breath, turning away from them while he got himself under control. He was the leader here, but without the Council, there was no way he'd be able to reach all the Sitheri, so he couldn't have them turning their backs on him.

"Where is my sister?" he asked suddenly, turning back around.

It had been a full day since he'd seen her, and there was something in the pit of his stomach that told him he wasn't going to like the reason why. But then, the longer this went on, the more it seemed like people were conspiring against him.

Even two members of the Council exchanging glances could turn out to be them plotting against him, and he was not best pleased by it. They would learn. They would all learn that now there was no chance for Carver to come back and ruin things for him, he was in charge. One way or another, he was going to get what he wanted.

"I do not know, Leader," Cain said, not making eye contact. "She has been cleaning out your father's chambers for the last few days, but I have yet to see her today."

Something wasn't right about that.

Ithril regretted the way he had spoken to her before, and it had been in his head to apologize and tell her that he had been wrong to lash out at her. But he kept remembering her telling him that perhaps he needed Carver, and all the whispers among the people weren't helping. Everyone was turning on him, and he was afraid that his sister might be turning as well.

He wouldn't let her; she was the only family he had left, and he didn't intend to let her slip away and turn traitor. The people adored E'lira, and if he could just get her on his side, then… then they would believe in him again and be willing to make this work.

It had to work. Otherwise everything he had been working for would be for nothing. Tearing his remaining family apart by sending his brother away would have been for nothing, and he was pretty sure that he couldn't live with that. He wanted to have the proof that he had done the right thing, and for that to happen, he would need to win.

"Leader!" a voice called from outside the door, and Ithril turned.

"Enter."

One of the men that he vaguely recognized as working in the transporter bay came in, looking worried. "I don't mean to bother you, Leader, but I thought you should know…"

"What is it?"

"One of the transporter ships was reported missing last night."

Ithril rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know that. It's the one my brother took when he fled like a coward. Why are you bothering me with this?"

The man twisted his hands in front of him and shook his head. "No, I mean. There's another one missing. It was launched sometime yesterday, we think."

"You think." Honestly, what was he going to have to do to get people to actually be useful? "Can't you track it? I know for a fact that you can see when ships were launched out and where they were going."

"Well, yes. But there's no need for that."

"And why not?"

"Because the ship is on its way back, I would imagine."

Ithril's eyes widened at the voice of his sister. She strode into the Meeting Hall, eyes blazing. "As for who launched the ship, that would be me. Well. I had someone do it for me. It's over, Ithril. Carver's come back to stop you from ruining us, so just let him. You know as well as we do that this isn't going to work."

Betrayal. He'd been betrayed by his own sister and by the people who were complicit in her deception. It hurt a lot more than he'd been expecting it to, and he stared at E'lira in disbelief for a moment. "How could you do this?"

"Do what?" she demanded. "Try to save our clan from the ruin you're pushing us towards? What do you think Father would say if he could see this? What do you think Mother would say?"

It was too much. Ithril took two steps forward and backhanded E'lira across the face, the sound of his hand striking her cheek ringing out in the room. "Mother would thank me," he hissed at her, anger clouding his vision and making him seethe. "She would thank me for being the only one who cares enough to do anything about the fact that she was murdered! The rest of you just give in to those monsters, and I am the only one who cares to stop them! So don't you ever say that Mother would be disappointed in me."

E'lira pressed her hand to her cheek where a red mark was already blooming across her skin. "I'm sure she'd be so proud," she said.

"Enough. Guards!" Ithril called. "Take her away. Lock her in her rooms. Tie her down if you have to. I don't want her able to run around spreading her filth."

The guards hesitated, but they stepped forward, gently leading E'lira away.

"We're sorry," one of them murmured solemnly. "But the leader's word is law."

She nodded and gave a little smile. "I know that, and I don't blame you. But soon, there will be a new leader."

Ithril was shaking with rage. This had all happened right under his nose, and he couldn't believe it. His sister had gone behind his back and had somehow found out what had really happened to Carver and now Carver was...

No. No, no, no,
no.

He stormed out of the Meeting Hall and down to the transporter bay, glaring at anyone who dared to look at him as he passed. Most people averted their eyes anyway, hurrying along and refusing to make eye contact with him. It didn't strike him until just then that it had been that way for days. Instead of bowing their heads respectfully or murmuring greetings as they would have done for his father, they went out of their way to avoid looking at him.

Fine. Once Carver was dealt with, there were going to be some changes made.

Ithril burst into the bay and looked around. It was easy to tell that there was a transporter preparing to dock, and he had to stop it.

"You there," he called to the woman who was standing in front of one of the screens that monitored incoming air traffic. "Do not allow that transporter to land here. I forbid it."

She turned and gave him a hard look. "I'm afraid I can't follow that command, Leader," she said, standing firm. "You see, Leader Carver has already instructed me to open the bay doors for him, and the leader's word is law."

"
I
am the leader here!" Ithril snapped. "You follow my orders!"

"As far as I know, you are both the leaders," she replied. "And I follow Leader Carver's orders now. Too many people have met their end by following
your
orders, with all due respect, Leader Ithril." Her tone was polite, but there was no respect in her eyes or demeanor.

This was E'lira's doing. It had to be. While he was struggling to get people to listen to him and trust him, she had been sewing the seeds of dissent in them. Telling them all manner of lies, no doubt. She would have to be punished. Anyone who stood against him would have to be punished.

"I will have you thrown in prison!" Ithril yelled, spit flying out of his mouth. "I will make it so that you will beg me to follow my orders. You think Carver will be able to help you? He'll be dead in five minutes if he steps in here."

Of course, he had no idea how he was going to back that statement up. He was working on pure anger now, and the last thing he wanted or needed was his saintly older brother trying to put things back the way they were. Ithril was trying to make
progress
and sometimes progress required sacrifice. Sometimes progress was messy, bloody even, but that didn't mean it had to stop. He just needed a better plan, and he needed more time.

He was about to call for the guards again, when one came pelting into the bay, eyes wide with fright. "Leader! Leader, you have to... You must..." His breathing was labored, and he couldn't get his words out.

Ithril didn't have time to wait for him to get his act together. "Spit it out," he snapped, irritation clear in every syllable.

"The Des'kos, Leader. The Des'kos are here."

Ithril's blood ran cold. "What?"

"They're here, Leader. Their leader and two of her men. They're demanding an audience with you."

This was what he had been trying to avoid. No one had ever seen the leader of the Des'kos until their clan was essentially destroyed. Just because she (and he was shocked that she was a female, as they had always assumed the the leader was a king) had only arrived with two men didn't mean that there weren't hundreds more lurking in wait. This could spell the end of his people, and it would be all his fault.

"Leader?" the guard asked. "What do we do?"

There was no way to fight this if they were coming to wipe them off the face of the planet. No matter how many Sitheri there were compared to the number of Des'kos, they weren't prepared, and they didn't have enough weapons or armor to defend themselves.

Ithril felt like a child all over again. He wanted to run to his father and ask what they should do, but he already knew what his father would have suggested and he knew that if his father were still in control then they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

But, no. His father was dead, and Carver was as bad as him. Ithril drew himself up and swallowed hard. "Take me to her."

The leader of the Des'kos was not ostensibly female. In fact, there was little to distinguish her from the two males that flanked her. They were all three of a similar height, not as tall as the average Sitheri, but much wider and more muscled. Their skin was pale and tinted green, and long, curved tusks protruded from either side of their mouths. The leader's were the biggest, and as close as Ithril was to her, he could see that the edges were serrated enough that she could gore him easily if she so chose. All three had matted brown hair that hung down their backs and was threaded with beads and shells. They were built like warriors and like animals, backs hunched over and hands clawed at the fingers.

If not for the intelligence in their eyes, it would be easy to pass them off as mere beasts, as Ithril had been doing for years.

But now that he was staring down the leader of them, it was much harder to do so. Even with a retinue of ten guards and warriors at his back, he still felt small and vulnerable standing in front of them.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, willing his voice not to shake and his tone to stay cool and controlled. Show no fear, he told himself, even though it was extremely hard.

"I want to speak to Angen," the leader said, her voice rough and gravelly as she ground out each word. "I want to know what he thinks is worth breaking our treaty."

Anger flared in Ithril at that, warring with the fear. 'Treaty' was a pretty word for how his father had given so much up, but now was not the time to challenge that.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Ithril hedged.

Their leader barked a laugh, and every Sitheri in the room flinched. "Do not think to lie, little boy. Little Sitheri mice have been gnawing at our defenses for long days now. You think we don't see, but we do. We watch and we wait. And now I want to speak to Angen before someone here has to die."

There wasn't even any malice in her tone. She spoke as if she was just reciting the weather for the week and not making a threat against the late and current leaders of the Sitheri clan. But with a threat like that in the air, there wasn't much Ithril could do. He couldn't produce his father, and it was obvious that she knew what he had been doing.

"Angen is dead," he said, voice cold. "I'm sure it will please you to no end to know that."

The leader's face contorted into a garish mask of confusion and she turned, consulting with each of her companions in turn. When she looked back, her mouth was stretched in a wide grin, showing off rows of sharp teeth. "Sitheri mice have no leader, then?"

"We have a leader.
I
am the leader, and you can address your complaints to me."