"This ground," he said, and his voice carried without effort, "belongs to me now. Not the alliance. Not the legions. Not the empress, who is my woman and knows it." A ripple went through the imperial command tent behind the lines, and he let them feel it. "Me. Every drone kneeling in this mud is mine. Every wall of this fortress is mine. The hive sent an outpost. I am returning it as a message."
The imperial delegates stood in their command tent in stricken quiet.
"We've hired a worse conqueror than the one we're fighting," the elder delegate whispered, watching through the tent's open front. Seraphina's war leader said nothing, because there was nothing to say that the woman in question had not already accepted in a bedchamber months ago.
Below the gate, two of the surrendered drones had been brought forward by Vra'Ssai, who walked among her former sisters now like a tamed wolf among wolves, chitin plating gleaming, amber eyes proudly dull.
