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He’s out there.

I sense it. The head warden of the north forests would not recuse himself of the greatest threat to Virelia since the blights. As grating as it would be to watch his daughter perform a betrothal ritual with Aurelians, he would not abandon his duty. It’s petty—but he doesn’t want to honor the alien princes, and he’d snub his own daughter to send a message that they are unwelcome.

He’s probably watching me now, his binoculars trained in on me.

“Come. Here. Now.”I mouth the words. He expected the alien triad to be in and out in moments, and only then would he come out to talk to his daughter.

The Aurelians tense around me. Their hands subtly gravitate towards their blades, their feet widening into an instinctive battle stance. Their keen eyes saw the movement from the trees an instant before me.

From the towering trees, hundreds of shadows descend, wardens in camouflage garb rappelling down ropes, while others emerge from the tall grasses between the landing strip and the trees. They were so still they had become one with the land.

“A strange way to throw a welcome party,” Titus snarls, stepping forward to position his imposing frame between me and the approaching wardens.

“I didn’t plan this,” says Calder, his voice tinged with concern. “They were to emerge once you three were back on your ship.”

“That’s my father at the lead. I asked him to come out,” I explain, trying to defuse the tension, so the Aurelians know this isn’t an ambush.

My dad could have made this a lot easier if he didn’t bring a damn army behind him. All he had to do was come out of the trees alone.

Owen Hart. My father, but now he’s in the role of head warden, striding out in the lead of the collected men and women who serve the forest. His green-brown cloak moves like the wind through the trees, and each step is in sync with the nature around him, his movement like liquid, rolling through the grass. His steps are more like a fluid transition, seamlessly gliding forward through the tall grasses.

I can’t help but feel a surge of pride as I see my dad again, despite everything. Tall, for a human, his bright green eyes sharp against his deeply tanned skin. My own eyes are half his and half my mothers, hazel flecked with brown, and he told me once that the forest lives in my eyes. The shadow of stubble graces his jawline, and I know he’s been sitting shock still, not moving a finger for hours in wait for the Aurelians. The warden discipline is so complete that a hundred of them can sit in the forests, and the animals become so accustomed to their presence that not even the silence of bugs and frogs croaking can betray them. I’m glad to see that despite being a little older than when I last saw him, he’s still athletic and healthy.

But the subtle bounce of the rifle strapped to his back underpins the serenity he projects. He might be a protector of the forest, but he and the wardens do it through violence when necessary.

To his right is my older brother Oakly, and he hasn’t quite mastered the art of controlling his emotions. He’s got a scowl on his face as the wardens stop twenty feet from the triad, and only my father steps forward, raising his hand into a fist to halt thetide of forest protectors. They seem to melt into the land despite standing against the grass, shock still, then at the slightest breeze, moving ever so slightly to mimic the flow of grass bowing to the wind.

My dad’s eyes lock into mine, surrounded by Aurelians, and there’s a complex blend of emotions, then, as if I don’t exist, he focuses fully on prince Doman.

“What is the meaning of this?” No introductions. Just bluntness.

Calder raises his arms, trying to defuse the situation. “The ritual will be postponed until tomorrow.”

My dad’s eyes narrow. “This land is not your friend, royal prince.”

My heart pounds. I hope my warnings in the conference room hold weight. It’s not any threat to their lives I fear—it’s the humiliation of the Virelian people.

There is a behemoth of a gleaming warship behind us, with enough firepower to level the ancient forests into a smoldering pile of ash, and they are the ones who allowed it to land. They couldn’t stop it.

“I did not come here to make friends, warden. I came here to finish the ritual and leave.”

“It was me who asked it to be pushed to tomorrow,” I say, ducking out from between the bulk of the triad. My dad’s face darkens. He hates to see his daughter surrounded by his enemies.

I was expecting tense awkwardness. I didn’t expect this. From the ranks of wardens, my older brother is staring down the triad, and he might as well be a stranger. He still hasn’t looked at me, keeping his eyes fixed on the crown prince, itching to take a knee while drawing his rifle in a practiced movement, putting a bullet through Doman’s heart. I might have made a mistaketelling them to come in their formal robes—wearing Orb-Armor would have showed that the triad respects the threat.

There’s a long silence as my father processes my words. Then he turns to me. “I’d ask that you give me a moment with my daughter, alone,” he growls, hating that he has to ask the crown prince permission to see his own family.

“I am sworn to protect her,” answers Doman.

It’s the worst possible thing he could have said. I wince, and my dad’s eyes flash, turning back to the prince, jutting his chin upwards. He has to stare up at the towering Aurelian, but he’s staring at him like he’s looking down at a bug.

“You do not think I can keep her safe in my own forests? Your arrogance knows no bounds, Crown Prince Doman.” He spits out the title like a curse.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Titus. He is the most prideful of the three, the most likely to explode. I gently touch his arm, trying to soothe him.

Doman meets my father’s glare. “If I did not stand by her side here, could you trust me to keep her safe on other planets?”

My dad considers his words, and I see that first glimmer of respect. He appreciates that Doman came here, completely unprotected, facing down hundreds of armed men without betraying any fear.