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I step back, shaking my head. “I refuse.”

“Your pride clouds you. This is the best for your people.”

My eyes flash in anger. “Three years. The same as a harem wench gets before her payout.”

“You have a great prejudice towards the women who choose to join the harems. Not all want to lead, Adriana. Some crave submission and protection. If that is the nature of a woman, what right do you have to judge her?”

“Service? Is that what you call it? Naked women leashed and paraded around the streets?”

“It is their choice.”

“Choice? They come because they have no prospects. How many harem women are from shithole space stations in rogue space, barely earning enough to eat?”

“Then why, Adriana, do they stay once their term is over?”

“Because you break down their minds.” I spit out the words, letting my hate and anger spill out. “You strip them of everything that is them.”

“Or perhaps we reveal it. Is that what you’re scared of, Adriana? That deep down, you know you are linked to us?” His blue eyes burn through me. His voice has a hard, deep edge of dominance to it. His right arm tenses, and I know he’s fighting the urge to reach out, to touch me, to run those huge fingers over my body.

I control myself. I’ve been in high stakes situations before. I’ve brokered agreements between planets, quelled rage between competing interests, forced together compromise where none was seen to be found.

“I refuse. I will now leave your ship and return to Pentaris. Unless you plan to keep me as a political prisoner, which will only harden our resolve against you. Your ships will never enter our territories, or it will be a declaration of war, and we will stop you. Your Reavers don’t scare us. Your warship will be destroyed by our orbital stations. Your warriors will be turned to dust.” I meet his hard, intense gaze, my chin up, challenging him.

He weighs my words. Gallien brings his smart-watch to his mouth, whispering in it in High Aurelian. I can’t make out the words, but I steel myself, prepared for Aurelian soldiers to rush out and grab me, bringing me to the cells.

It will be my victory. I brought the two Administrators most sympathetic to Aurelian concerns with me. Taken prisoner, they will lose their votes.

Three new Administrators will be elected in a snap election to replace us, and the only ones that will win the votes of the populace will be hardliners who would never bow to Aurelian rule. I have sacrificed myself, and my system will be protected from their incursions. It is a victory, and I will think on it every day I am trapped in their cells.

I wait for the soldiers to grab me, to pull me out of the throne room, but no one comes.

The doors remain closed behind me, the throne room silent and cold, white marble stretching all around me, the three hateful Aurelian princes watching me like wolves.

“Well. Isn’t this the wonderful thing about democracy? I’ve sent the proposal to your twelve Administrators and the voting blocks of your planets. I’ve increased my offer. It is very, very generous. How does your system work? Ah yes. Democracy. The majority will decide your fate. And then you will face a vote of confidence, and you will have the choice—resign, or continue as my wife.”

My heart pounds.

“I’ll resign,” I say, instantly.

“Will you? You care deeply for Pentaris, Adriana. That is one of the many things I admire about you. And what did you say earlier? Oh yes. You did not want to become Prime Minister. Youtook it because no one else would rise up to the task.”

My words are thrown back at me, and I realize too late the crucial piece of information I let slip. He realized I expected this meeting to end in captivity—and he understood the sacrifices I was willing to make for my people.

I make my face a blank slate. I turn and walk towards the huge doors.

“Open!” commands Prince Doman, and the doors are thrown open to me. My mind is reeling, but I force myself to be sharp.

I’m going to have to go against the planetary blocks and the Administrators, and I am going to have to convince them to vote against the proposal.

Or else I’m going to spend the next three years as the wife of the crown prince and his royal triad.

No—not just his wife.

His princess.

I stop, frozen on the other side of the huge doors, my heart pounding. I’d watched the wedding ceremony of Prince Bruton, Doman’s younger brother, and his Fated Mate.

I turned the broadcast off, biting my lip at the surge of emotions—disgust, hatred, and fear, before the second part of the ceremony began…