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“This is Adriana, Prime Minister of Pentaris. Adriana, my brother, Prince Bruton.”

Bruton extends his hand, and as I put mine in his, he shocks me by bringing it to his lips and planting a delicate kiss on the back of it. “Welcome to Colossus. Gallien, Titus, well met,” he says, addressing Doman’s battle-brothers.

“Pleased to meet you, Prince Doman. I’ve heard all about you.”

He snorts. “Not what you expected? I’ve been domesticated somewhat.” There’s a lightness to Bruton that is missing from Doman, a lightness that takes me by surprise.

In my research on the Royal Family, I had seen many holo-vids of Bruton, and I never once saw him smile. His Mate changed him.

Doman scans the courtyard. “And where are our parents? And your triad?”

Bruton shrugs. “New rules. Tight security. Leading up to your wedding, no more than two of the family can be together. As for Tarik and Griffon, they send their regards. The next generation of Mark-11 cyborgs are being modeled off their combat reactions. They’re at the main factory.”

“You going to make it to the wedding?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Neither will our parents. The rest? Hell, I don’t even think Cal will come. Not that he was ever big on weddings. As for the rest of our brothers, well, they’re spread out all over the Empire. I don’t even know where half of them are. My own blood, like strangers to me.”

“Not for much longer.”

“Gods willing. This war has gone on too long already. Too long.” The smile is wiped from his face, and I see the hard determination I was expecting from Bruton, the steelunderneath his joviality. He clears his throat, obviously not wanting to dwell on the war. “I’m headed back to my estate. Just wanted to be here to greet you. Come by for dinner.”

“We will.”

Bruton cocks his head towards the palace. “They’re waiting for you inside.”

“Throne room?”

“No. Meeting room C. It was a pleasure to meet you, Adriana. You’re a formidable leader for Pentaris.”

“Thank you. It’s good to meet the famed commander.”

He smiles easily. “It should be my wife who is famous, not me. She’s the reason we’re winning this fucking war. You mind if I address your staff? I want to give them a good welcome.”

“Go right ahead.”

Bruton claps his hands, turning to the forty-odd faces behind me, lined up in front of the Imperator. My men and women stand intermixed with Doman’s Aurelian soldiers, and despite the size difference, they have every bit as much pride, standing tall on alien soil.

“You all came a long way from your home system. You faced danger. And from what I heard, all of you could have stayed home. Any man or woman wearing the Administration uniform is on my dime for your stay on Colossus. If anyone tries to charge you a single credit for anything, they’ll be answering to me.” Then he grins. “To Doman’s men? I suggest you whine to him if you want access to his expense account, I’m sure he’ll match my offer. Enjoy the city, everyone. Reavers are waiting to take you in, or it’s an easy stroll down,” he says, waving magnanimously.

Doman smiles. The crown gleams in the afternoon light. He was born to this place, born to lead. “Apparently my brother welcomes me by trying to bankrupt me. You’re not getting a carte blanche, I know you all too well for that. But each of youis getting a bonus of three months’ salary. Spend it wisely, on women and wine.”

My non-essential staff dissipates, some turning to walk the length of the courtyard filled with Aurelian ships, wanting to stroll through the towering gates down the main road to the city, while others follow Aurelians into Reavers, arranging trips into the capital by ship.

I steel myself. “Guess it’s time to meet the in-laws.”

“It’ll go fine.” Doman gives my hand a squeeze to reassure me.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Bruton. I have a couple of things to run by you, before you head off,” says Gallien to Bruton. Titus stands, not following me and Doman as we walk towards the palace.

“You two aren’t coming?”

Titus grips his heavy necklace. “The Queen’s not much for my style.” He’s calmed since the moment we entered Aurelian territory, protected by Orb-Shift disruptors. He no longer scans every person near him like a potential assassin, no longer jumps at shadows or the slightest movement. Titus, Gallien and Bruton enter into a hushed discussion near a Reaver.

“Alright. Then let’s do this,” I say, and me and the alien prince walk forward, between the marble pillars thicker than an old growth tree on my home planet, into the palace that rises like a mountain of wealth and prestige before us.

For him, it’s nothing. A happy reunion with his mother and three fathers. For me?