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Owen’s eyes widen in surprise. He wasn’t expecting me to give him access to confidential Aurelian intelligence reports.

Titus’ face hardens. “We should be on the battle lines, not traipsing through a forest.”

“That’s something I admire about you. You lead from the front. You walked into this forest without armor, even though there could be a hundred wardens around you.”

“I’d walk into this forest if I knew there were a hundred wardens surrounding us. We are your guests and thus pledged your protection.”

“Aye. And that warship you have helps. They’d turn our forest to ash if anything happened to you.” His green eyes lock onto mine. The forest-green hues are the same as the ones that fleck Adriana’s. “I might be a warden who should stick to the trees, but I’m no fool. This deal is for three years of Aurelian access to our space. The marriage only needs to last that long. I want your word that you’ll end it, clean, and cut off all contact with her when the three years are over.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Why? You want her to waste her life with you? Growing old while you stay young, until you abandon her to chase your Fated Mate? When the war’s done, son, you’ll either charge into another battle, or you’ll want to secure your legacy. Maybe both. This union between Aurelian and human can lead to nothing good.”

“My species are not all slaves to fate. There’s no other woman in the universe I would call my wife.”

Owen reaches into his cloak, retrieving a small black bag. The aroma of strong tobacco fills the air as he offers each of us a leaf.I chew it, feeling the tingling sensation spread through my gums and a clarifying buzz wash over me.

“My daughter is her own woman. Always has been. She’s free to choose as she wishes. But this ends in nothing but heartbreak. You’d do better to spare her that.”

“Our hearts are hers, to do as she wishes.”

“You three aren’t what I expected.”

“Oh? And what did you expect?”

“Three stuck-up royal brats.”

I snort. He motions with his hand for us to continue, deeper into the woods. “And the war, Doman? How do you plan to end it?”

“It ends with Obsidian. It ends when the temples are turned to rubble.”

“And what of the aftermath? Anarchy will reign. The Fanatics will scatter, militias will rise, warlords will seize control. You can’t kill them all. I’ve thought long on this. A power vacuum ends in chaos.”

“You protect your forests. I protect my Empire.”

He spits out a glob of brown saliva onto a bush. “At least you’re not a bullshitter.”

“Obsidian won’t stop until he is on the throne of Colossus. I will not stop until he is gone. What happens next will be dealt with.”

“You won’t stop when he’s gone. I know men like you. The war is in your blood. Be careful wishing for peace, Doman. You may find yourself a stranger to it.”

Gallien’s aura is taut. “Do you think he will stop at Colossus, Owen? His men believe in prophecies of conquest. The black flag will fly over Virelia if we don’t halt him. Old Earth, the origin of your species, will be conquered.”

“You failed to predict Obsidian. His Priests did. What if the rest of it is true? That unless Obsidian sits on the throne, the universe itself will be damned?”

“Whoever ends the War-God will have the strength to face whatever comes next.” My voice lowers. There’s a gnawing unease, that I should be waiting for him, my blade in my hand. I should be analyzing his movements, predicting where he will strike next, so I can challenge him and end this all for good.

Instead, I’m here, on a foreign planet, negotiating.

My mouth fills with the strong tobacco juice mixing with my spittle, and I’m about to spit, when Owen shakes his head. “Nicotine is a natural pesticide. Here,” he says, pointing at a bush with brown, chewed leaves, and I see the tiny bugs crawling over it. One by one, we spit where he pointed.

“You truly care for your forest. But aren’t those bugs part of it?”

“There’s a balance, Doman. I care for my forest, and my family.” He pauses for a moment. “I got a message we’re supposed to meet up at my home for dinner. Was thinking of not telling you, but I’m not facing my wife’s wrath. If you accept, I’d caution you. My eldest boy. He’s a firebrand. Don’t take it personally.”

“Understood. It would be our honor.”

Owen points upwards. There is a tree so wide across it would take twenty Aurelians linking hands around it to span it. “You want my blessing, you better beat me to the top,” he says, and I shake my head at the wily man, my triad leaping into action to accept the duel.