The Space Empress He Craved

Chapter 43

POV: Lyra

At training, I had just finished demonstrating a technique to dodge an opponent's strike from the side without losing balance. Toby and I were moving to the next pair of fighters when someone called out, "My Empress."

"Oh, wow," Toby said in surprise as two Lyrokans approached us. Both young—one with dark neural strands, one with light.

I turned to face them as they bowed, lifting their heads when I lifted mine after returning the bow. "Good morning, ministers. Toby, this is Sir Weaver, the Minister of Environment. And this is his match, Lord Yarrington, the Minister of Education. Ministers, this is one of my closest brothers on the battlefield, Specialist Tobias Tristan."

"Pleasure." The ministers took turns extending their hands to shake Toby's, who managed to stutter, "L-Likewise."

Ministers wanting combat training from a Kaelari. Times really are changing.

"What can I do for you both?" I asked.

They exchanged glances before the light-haired Lyrokan, Sir Weaver, spoke. "My Empress, we were wondering if you have time in your schedule to watch us fight? The Lyrokan instructors have been showing us the same moves every cycle, and we feel we've hit a plateau. And, to be fair, those instructors never fought in real battle before. So we were hoping to get pointers from you since you have fought, and won, on battlegrounds. Maybe you could teach us new techniques?"

Toby held back a smile and muttered, "Oh, wow."

I smiled. "We'll be happy to help but uh..." I looked around, mentally counting the pairs Toby and I needed to watch first. "Give us an hour?"

"That'll be great! Thank you, my Empress." They bowed and left.

"Oh, wow," Toby said for the third time.

I narrowed my eyes. "Really, Toby?"

His cheeky smile appeared as we strolled toward Wainwright and Lyssa. "I apologize for not living up to the Empress's expectations." I smacked him mercilessly on his arm and he chuckled.

Wainwright and Lyssa were both improving. Their sparring lasted longer but Lyssa won again.

"Lyra," Wainwright started, "it really isn't easy to show no mercy to a female fighter. I mean, I love my daughter and I see someone else's daughter when my opponent is female."

"Then the solution is simple, Commander Wainwright," I said. "Imagine the female you're fighting wants to harm your daughter."

His eyes darkened momentarily before he nodded. "That would work very well. Painful, but it works."

I offered an alternative. "A less painful method would be imagining protecting your daughter from your opponent. But in my experience, it still makes one hesitate."

"I agree," Wainwright said with a smile.

"Lyra! LOOK OUT!" Juan's voice came from nearby.

Zeke dashed from his mat and pulled Toby and me out of the way. Lyssa and Wainwright managed to step back from a Lyrokan who was punched from several mats away onto the mat where they'd been sparring.

"What the void!" Zeke spat toward the Lyrokan.

The Lyrokan on the mat was partially-shifted—his combat form activated with enhanced musculature and extended bone claws visible but not fully deployed. Light brown bio-luminescent patterns pulsed across his arms and face. There was a growl, and his opponent, also partially-shifted with dark brown patterns, ran through the crowd and pounced on him, extending sharp bone claws.

I know that scent. That psychic signature.

"SEBASTIAN CUMMINGS, STOP!" I yelled.

The attacking Lyrokan halted, claws suspended in the air. Juan, Zelena, and others quickly flanked me. Orion and Christian were running toward us at maximum speed. Their training adrenaline had spiked when they heard Juan scream my name.

I took a step toward the partially-shifted Lyrokans. "RETRACT YOUR CLAWS, NOW!"

Slowly, Sebastian retracted his bone claws.

"Get off your opponent, and take five steps back." My voice was slow, stern.

Sebastian obeyed.

Orion reached us as I approached the Lyrokan on the ground. He pulled me by my hand, panic in his pathways. "Baby, what happened? Are you hurt?" He started lifting my arms, checking for wounds.

"Orion, I'm fine. Zeke pulled me out of the way." I took my arms back and continued toward the mat. I gave Sebastian a hard look. "Shift back. Now."

He bowed and obeyed, deactivating his combat form.

I looked at the Lyrokan on the mat. "You too, Your Grace. Shift back."

Surprised and judgmental looks flew at Greg Claw and Sebastian Cummings from both Kaelari and Lyrokan communities.

Greg. Of course it's Greg.

Greg shifted back but remained flat on the mat, panting. His chest rose and fell dramatically. I squatted next to his head, examining his features. His pathways weren't pale—he had enough oxygen. His eyes looked normal—no neural damage. Any internal damage from a fist strike would've healed already with Lyrokan regeneration. Nothing was wrong. He could've gotten up before Sebastian even pounced.

He's faking. The manipulative void-spawn is faking.

I stood emotionlessly. "You can stop pretending now, Your Grace. Get up."

He smirked coyly. "How do you know I'm not really injured?"

My eyes burned down at him without humor. "Don't test me."

"O-kay." He stood with ease.

Orion started, "Greg, I warned you."

Greg retorted, "Your Eminence, that was in the dining hall about courtesy. This was a fight that went out of control."

Alfred Cummings and Pierre Whitlaw arrived. Alfred was stunned seeing his son's remorseful face steps away from the incident.

Orion said, "If you want to train, Greg, you're welcome to join. But stop causing trouble."

"If you haven't noticed, Your Eminence, I was the one flung from over there," Greg complained.

Orion studied Sebastian before looking back at Greg. "I doubt this was all Cummings's doing."

Greg challenged with a smirk, "And what proof do you have of that, cousin?"

Alfred asked his son, "Seb, what happened? Why did you hit him like that?"

Sebastian looked at his father, then at me longingly for a split second. "It's private... and personal."

He knows about Greg's interest in me. That's what this is about.

Orion turned back to his cousin, stern. "Well, Greg. That was all the proof we needed. I'm warning you, this is your last chance. Next time, don't think of attending any meetings or collaborations concerning the Empire's affairs. I don't care if you're a Duke."

Greg gritted his teeth, fighting his anger at Orion's control. As I walked away, Greg called out, "I apologize, my Empress. I will do everything to ensure it won't happen again."

I stopped, turned, my hardened look still on. "I'll believe it when I see it, Your Grace."

"And how can I show it to you, my Empress?" Greg asked with a sincere smile I'd never seen from him before.

He's learning that flirtation doesn't work on me. Makes me different from his usual targets.

I snapped matter-of-factly, "Watch your words. Just because you don't feel worthy doesn't give you the right to question the worth of others. If you don't know what to say, then train with your mouth SHUT!"

My words made him visibly uncomfortable—strange for someone usually so arrogant. He bowed with a guilty smile. "As you wish, my Empress."

I turned to Sebastian, whose eyes were on the floor. "Sebastian Cummings."

He looked up instantly. "If your partner offends you, request a partner-swap. Don't shift when you're not supposed to."

"Yes, my Empress." Guilt in every word.

"Excuse me, Specialist Lyra." Pierre Whitlaw approached. "Procedurally speaking, you should've sought mine or Minister Cummings's permission before deciding to resolve the sparring dispute..."

Orion's pathways went black. "How dare you speak to her like that?"

Whitlaw was from the previous Emperor's reign—one of the few less afraid of Orion. "Well, Your Eminence, I'm merely doing your job. You see..."

"I needed to seek your permission?" I snorted, feeling that familiar murderous glint in my eye.

This minister is about to learn exactly who he's dealing with.

Orion knew what was coming. Christian was already waiting in anticipation steps away. So were the other Kaelari who knew me.

Whitlaw, still unfamiliar with my ways, said, "Why, yes! What would a minister exist for if it weren't for that, then?"

Behind Whitlaw, Alfred Cummings was already hiding his face in his hands.

They're both about to get it. And they deserve every word.