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Summary
“And you’re sure this is meshala,” Venndred sounds contemplative.
“No,” he replied and scrubs his face, “but there’s nothing else I can think of to describe how I feel. I have felt deep… unconditional love… This is not that. This is… all consuming. I would-” he cuts himself off, swallows, mildly horrified at what he’s about to say, “I would disrupt these talks if it means taking her out of here and bringing her home. If the choice was between this alliance and her…" His lip curls a little, bearing his teeth, "I would meet the Vaitel with Lenia alone and smite them to the furthest depths of space,” he shudders.
“That’s a frankly horrifying thought,” Venndred’s voice is its typical mildly cheerful tone as he seems to sit with it.
“It’s terrifying…” he looks at the screen, “I have the entirety of Lenia under my care and... I could wipe us out because I found my heartsong…"
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Daimion Athannus never wanted to be King of Lenia, never wanted the power or the weight of the crown.
And now he has a war to win, an alliance to settle... and the single wrench that could foil the entire thing.