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King Yaskan’s wide-set gray eyes swept over Rhaego, assessing him. Though he kept his smile polite and close-lipped, Rhaego could feel the judgment creeping out of the king as he took in his hair.

“You’ve changed your hair since I last saw you.”

Rhaego kept his expression gracious. The words themselves were innocent, yet despite the genteel tone, he recognized the critique.

Regardless of, or perhaps because of, the Tuvastans’ rougher, animalistic side, day-to-day life was guided by strict, meaningless rules. Those included guidelines for how one should dress and present themselves. The type and color of fabric one wore depended on the season, the occasion, and the characteristics of the person wearing them. To tie a waist-wrap with a cliofi knot was unseemly, but tying breeches with any knot other than a cliofi was a mockable offense.

Rhaego knew the rules inside and out, his manners as impeccable as any royalty, but though his buttons were gleaming and the heels of his shoes respectfully soft considering the polished floor, there was nothing he could do about his hair.

The king’s lustrous mane flowed around his jewel-capped horns and down his back, radiating health and vitality. Rhaego’s used to look like that. But without proper care, his mane tangled easily and grew rough. The upkeep meant to impress fellow Tuvastans who rarely left Tuva wasn’t his top priority while on mercenary jobs. For ease, he’d cut it. Not short enough for anyone back home to find him particularly barbaric, but short enough to be crude all the same.

“It was rather unfortunate,” Rhaego said, in agreement with the unspoken criticism. “But one of my jobs required it, sire.”

The king made a noncommittal sound and studied the intricate embroidery on Rhaego’s drop-sash. It was the finest he owned. The nearly imperceptible lift of the king’s brow told Rhaego he approved.

Rhaego nodded to an attendant holding a small silver box. “I’ve brought you a gift, sire.”

“What a marvelous surprise.” The king smiled again and waved the attendant over.

It wasn’t at all a surprise. Etiquette dictated that if the king deigned to meet with a citizen, they were expected to bring a gift. If Rhaego had shown up empty-handed, the attendants would have made up some lie as to why the king had suddenly become unavailable, and he’d have been quietly escorted out.

As it was impolite to open gifts in front of company, the silver box was placed on a narrow, lacquered table next to an assortment of expensive packages. There was an uncomfortable beat of silence as Rhaego worked through how to direct the conversation. He needed to ask the king for permission to join the bouts taking place tomorrow, but it would be rude to ask directly.

“While traveling, I was proud to relay that my homecity would be welcoming humans within its fortified walls. The prestige you’ve brought Tuva should be applauded.” He closed his eyes and lifted his chin to show respect.

A shadow passed over the king’s expression before his plastic smile was back in place. “Indeed. Soon our city will be kissed by the Goddess and matehood will be restored.”

The words sounded rehearsed. Something was wrong. “And how are the humans faring?” When the king’s smile dimmed, Rhaego quickly added, “I’ve socialized with them while abroad. A wonderful people and so…” He held the king’s attention as he feigned searching for the right word. “Strong-willed.”

A twinkle lit behind the king’s eyes. There was little a snobbish Tuvastan enjoyed more than the subtle exchange of gossip. “I have found much the same. Their determination not to adopt Tuvastan etiquette is admirable. I’ve never met a species so dogged in their…intransigence.”

Rhaego grinned inwardly after deciphering the subtext. The humans were not cooperating. He might even guess they were rebelling. “I oft thought the same while guiding my Clecanian language lessons, sire.”

His comment had the desired effect. “You acted as a tutor for the humans?” King Yaskan asked curiously.

“Yes. As you can imagine, guiding a group of ten humans was an illuminating challenge. I have a newfound respect for our teachers.”

Rhaego could practically hear the king’s thoughts as the male’s eyes narrowed. The king was a known bigot to all non-Tuvastans, as were many from Tuva. Rhaego could only imagine how much the male raged against allowing a group of Class Four aliens into his precious city. Still, despite his faults, he was loved by Tuva, praised for his firm hand and ability to compromise when needed. Allowing humans citizenship was in Tuva’s best interest, but it didn’t keep the king from disliking them and seeking a way to bring their fiery spirits to heel. Calculation played behind his gray eyes.

Just ask how I tamed the humans and let us be direct, Rhaego silently begged.

The king seemed to decide the same, his tone a fraction more casual as he asked, “And do you have any strategies to share with their aides that may pacify their resolve?”

Rhaego pretended to think hard on this. “Perhaps if I knew details, I could give guidance. Are any of the three amenable?”

Some of the king’s pretense leaked away, and frustration spurred him to reveal more than he normally would. A lock of his hair caught in the beading draped across his horns as he shifted his head from side to side. “Only two of the three are awake, but they are equally unwilling to communicate.”

Rhaego slowly asked, “They are refusing to speak?”

Shaking his head, the king peered up at the ceiling. “Refusing to speak, refusing to listen, refusing to do anything at all that’s asked of them in a decent manner.”

“Have they behaved so rudely since their arrival?” He pretended to be disgusted at the humans’ uncouth conduct.

The king bared his fangs. The movement must have been an unconscious one, since it was exceedingly offensive. Rhaego smiled to himself again. The humans must really be scraping his horns for the king to be unaware of an action like that.

“The first to be awoken was horrid from the start. We woke the second, thinking she could calm the other. But after we explained they’d be participating in our marriage ceremony, she became nearly as feral as the first.” The king threw his hands up, then let them fall back onto his throne with a thump. “We’ve delayed waking the third until we have a handle on the other two, but we’ll need to wake her soon to prepare her for the chase. I’ve decided that when she wakes, she’ll remain separate from the others so as not to have her mind poisoned with their uncontrolled emotion.”

It hadn’t been until he’d left Tuva to become a traveling mercenary that Rhaego had realized just how awful his people could be. For all their concern with propriety, they were a callous bunch. Dislike burned through his veins as he listened to his king.

The three humans who’d been transported here had still been in cryosleep tubes. They’d been abducted from Earth, put into an induced sleep, and kept that way by the Queen for ease of transport. The humans they’d woken already had likely been terrified, but at least they had one another for comfort. Now this king wanted to wake the third yet keep her isolated? It was cruel.

“I think keeping them separated may be a mistake.” The king’s eyes flashed as Rhaego spoke, and his chest puffed indignantly. “They are a social species. The wailing may be worse if they know you’ve kept them apart.”

The king waved dismissively. “I’ll let their poor husbands deal with any wailing. A few more days and they’ll be out of my hands.”

Though disgust boiled within him, sparking his fever, Rhaego kept his mouth shut and his fever controlled. If he hadn’t smoked deralja before coming here, he might not have been calm enough to quell it. He might have offended the king by letting his fever redden his eyes. If that happened, he could forget any chance of entering the bouts—a subject he still needed to broach.

King Yaskan’s gaze slid to him, but the casualness of the movement felt forced. Here we go. This was what Rhaego had been waiting for. He watched as the king brushed imaginary dust off his sleeve. In an apathetic drawl, he asked, “How is your mother as of late?”

Rhaego barely contained his smirk. For as long as he could remember, King Yaskan had had a consuming fascination with his mother. He could recall the male appearing in the city wherever they went, stumbling over his questions and showering her with compliments. Only later in life had Rhaego learned that before he’d been throned, King Yaskan and his mother had been married for a brief spell.

“I only arrived home yesterday, and I haven’t been to see her yet.” The king’s shoulders fell. “I wanted to see you first.” King Yaskan raised his manicured brows at that. “I hoped you might grant me late admittance into the bouts.”

Before he could hold it back, the king released a short snort. He stiffened, then cleared his throat, his horns a shade darker at having made the embarrassing sound. “The application cutoff was ten days ago. I can’t start granting exceptions to all those too careless to apply on time.”

“I understand, of course.” Rhaego lifted his chin in respect. “You may not know this, but matehood has always been a fascination of hers. I was hoping to announce to my mother that you’d made an exception for me, and that I’d be competing in the first ever chase with humans.”

The haughtiness pulling the king’s mouth tight faded away. “It would make her happy?” Features soft and expression earnest, Rhaego felt as if he was truly seeing Yaskan. Not the king, but the young male pining over his wife.

“It will.” He didn’t know if his mother would care one way or another. It would depend on the wind that day. “And to apologize for the inconvenience, I plan to double my yearly donation to the city and make time for any missions you need me to prioritize.”

Rhaego waited for the king to take that in.

His yearly donations and mercenary work had started as a way for Rhaego to ensure he qualified to participate in the biannual marriage chase, regardless of how little time he actually spent in his city. Now, it had been agreed to privately that a portion of his donation was used to allow his mother to live comfortably in the Eyrie—the female keep high in the mountains. The rest went to whatever the king decided, whether that be improvements to Tuva or cushioning for his own pocket. As long as his mother was seen to in his absence, Rhaego didn’t care.

King Yaskan nodded solemnly. Then, as if a bucket of Tuvastan refinement had been dumped over his head, his lips clamped together to hide his fangs, and he waved vaguely toward an attendant. “Tell Doftun that he’ll have one last-minute entry.”

“May the Goddess kiss you, sire.” Rhaego tipped his head back, nearly staring at the ceiling.

“Send your mother my regards.” King Yaskan’s lip curled up. “May your feet be swift and your hunt fruitful.”