The silence inside the Grand Assembly was of a kind that Mega-City 01 had not witnessed in a century.
Gone were the screaming corporate lobbyists, the clattering Praetorian pulse-carbines, and the perfumed posturing of high-born oligarchs. Outside the newly glazed geodesic dome, afternoon light poured across the four hundred desks, lighting up the faces of diplomats, military commanders, commoner tamer delegates, and field scientists who had gathered for the extraordinary plenary session.
At the center of the rostrum stood Arthur Wright.
Behind him, sitting in a quiet, majestic crescent upon the raised marble platform, was his pack.
Titus had settled his massive forty-five-ton dark rock bulk along the northern wall of the chamber, his ancient shell serving as an unmoving backdrop of dark fiery stone. The Xuanwu’s golden-rimmed eyes were half-closed in peaceful quiet focus, his rhythmic breathing a comforting, low-hum that shook through the floorboards.
Grimm lay on Arthur’s right, his massive black glass head resting flat across the toe of Arthur’s combat boot, his lone ear swiveled toward the delegates. On Arthur’s left shoulder, Vesper draped her sleek, silver-white body like a royal scarf of living starlight, her tail curled around his forearm, her deep, ringing purr a steady therapeutic shaking in his collarbone.
