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ADRIANA

I couldn’t eat this morning. I couldn’t leave my ship, not wanting to see the green jewel of my home planet approaching in the viewports.

I’m still not sure if the Aurelians will come. They certainly aren’t use to being sent for like errand boys. I sent out a message through channels asking them to meet me in my ship, because I need to see them before we land on my home planet…

But I don’t trust myself around them anywhere near the pleasure room. It kept me up last night, my body on fire, tossing and turning.

It’s safer here, in the dull, gray corporate boardroom of my ship.

I always found it ironic that the Administration paid a designer to give every inch of our ship the look of not wasting a single cent.

It’s part of the image of frugality, because the planets don’t particularly like funding the federal government.

“The royal triad has arrived,” says one of my worker bees, leaning his head into the boardroom.

“Send them in.”

They have to turn sideways to come through the door.

“Thanks for coming,” I say. They’re wearing their battle-robes, the white, tighter togas that leave the right half of their bodies uncovered.

“This is bloody depressing,” says Titus, looking around the drab surrounding of the boardroom. His head nearly touches the ceiling, and Doman is hunched over to fit.

Doman pulls out one of the chairs, looking down at it skeptically. It’s definitely not rated for over five hundred pounds of alien.

I don’t want to ask my assistant to fill out a budget request for a new chair—who knows what rumors that would start. “Do you mind standing?”

“Not at all,” says Doman, as Gallien closes the door behind him, the three of them towering over the table on the other end of the room.

They’re wearing the combat robes of the species, leaving the right side of their chests bare, but I do my best to ignore those slabs of muscle. This is business, not pleasure.

“We need to talk optics.” I flick my hand, opening the star map.

It appears on the table between us, less crisp than the map in the throne room, slower to load, as I focus the holo-graphic map towards Virelia.

The largest planet in our system, covered in greens and blues of freshwater lakes and trees so high the tips seem to touch the sky.

“You won’t find many allies here. Out in the reaches, people are fiercely loyal to Pentaris. ”

Doman leans over the chair, putting his hands on the table. His forearms thicken as they take on his weight, his muscles flexing oh so distractingly.

Why, oh why, did these three have to be made so damned perfect?

One would be bad enough. But the three of them together make it impossible to focus on anything.

Titus and Doman, like warring gods of different sects, Gallien, with his patrician precision, this mix of savagery and royalty that only my hate could keep at bay.

“You’re the politician, Adriana. Tell us what we need to know.”

“It’s a sticky situation. Virelia and Frosthold are the planets most opposed to Aurelian overreach.”

Titus reaches up, pushing those unruly, thick black locks out of his eyes. “You were elected to oppose us. Now you are to be wed to us. Are you in danger in Virelia? Our Intelligence rates the assassination risk as low.”

I stay sitting. There’s no point in standing—they’d tower over me anyways.

“Most of them think I tricked you. While any new technology will take careful review by the wardens before being applied, the people benefit instantly from the end of licensing fees. Not to mention the med-bays. There’s already feel-good stories in the planetary media of people facing terminal diseases coming out of the bays healthy again when they had no hope. ”

Gallien gets a strange smile on his face. “You’re their martyr. The woman who fought against us, sacrificing herself to be wed to the men she hates for the good of Pentaris. Then what do we need to worry about?”

I nod. “Trade deals and medical miracles are one thing. But when Virelians see Aurelian triads setting foot on our sacred planet… it’s going to be tough for some people to accept.”

“We can face whatever is put against us,” shrugs Doman.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Virelians have pride.

You three stepping on their planet is humiliation enough…

and not all see me as a martyr. Some used to see me as a symbol of defiance.

Now I’m..” I swallow. It’s hard to say, but I can’t hide from it.

“Now they will see me as your possession, a Virelian traded to you in return for material benefit. It’s standard in our culture.

Trade deals signed with a marriage pact.

It keeps Pentaris unified. But it’s a slap in their face. ”

“This was a lot easier when you hated us, wasn’t it?” Gallien’s eyes sparkle, teasing me.

I shake my head in annoyance. “This is serious.”

Titus grins. “We’ve gone into Scorp nests with no backup, went up against Fanatics screaming for our blood. Virelia is a vacation.”

“Would you wear your formal robes?”

“Telling us to cover up?” Gallien smiles. He raises his hands when I glare.

“You’re in your war-robes.”

“These are our daily clothes,” says Doman. “But we can change.”

“Thank you. It’s not a good look. I won’t ask you to leave your Orb-Blades behind. But maybe skip the crowns for this stop.”

“Any other outfit advice?” Titus looks frustrated to even be having this conversation. I wonder what I pulled him from.

“Don’t blame me for this. You’re saving time going through Pentaris. You’d be away from your war for months if it wasn’t for this deal. And yes, Titus…”

He sees where I’m looking, and reaches up, touching his chain. He wears it everywhere, but he was smart enough to take it off in the holo-vid meeting in the initial negotiations.

“It’s got the symbol of the Aurelian Empire. It’s bad enough we’ve got a warship landing on our planet.”

“Alright. I’ll take off the chain…” he says, then smiles, in a sneaky way I don’t like. “But you make everything a negotiation. So what do I get out of it?”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll make it easy. One kiss. So that every time you’re in a meeting that makes you want to blow your brains out with boredom, you think of me.”

I raise my finger. “Just one kiss. That’s it. Then you three leave and get changed.”

“Word of honor,” says Titus, walking around the boardroom table until he’s towering over me.

Sitting, my head is not even at his waist. He leans in and kisses me, softly at first, then harder.

I reach up to push him back, when his tongue slides into my mouth, and I sink into it, enjoying the distraction from my constant stress.

But only for a moment. I kick my wheeled chair back. “I don’t want you traipsing around my ship saluting my staff with that thing,” I say, looking down at his stiffening cock.

“Your wish is my command,” says Titus, turning, and the triad makes their way to leave.

“Wait. Are you three going to be on the bridge during the descent?”

“We can be.”

“I’d like to see my home. It’s been too long.”

“Then come along,” says Doman, opening the door. I follow him out, and Titus and Gallien fall into their ranks behind me, the formation Aurelians are trained to use when guarding a human.

This time, there are no stares, not even side-eye glances. Everyone in my ship keeps their heads down, not wanting to attract the attention of the Aurelian princes.

“Escort the Prime Minister to the bridge,” Doman orders the two triads waiting for us in the ship-bay. “We’ll come up when we’ve changed,” he says, in a lower voice only for me, and strides off with his triad.

One triad in front of me, one behind, I’m walked through the ship until I get to the bridge. The two triads stop as the doors open, not wanting to disturb the Aurelians working with more boots on the deck, but Doman told me it would be fine.

Aurelians, in triads, are spaced out through the sides of the room, flicking their fingers at holo-displays that show data in their language, which I speak well but sometimes have trouble deciphering in written form.

They are all intent on their work, absorbed as their fingers perform an intricate ballet, manipulating data.

I wasn’t expecting to be acknowledged, and it’s nice to feel invisible for once as I walk towards the huge, reinforced, thick glass windows at the front of the ship.

Beyond the thick glass, Virelia floats. The sphere of verdant greens and brilliant blues of the freshwater lakes which are surrounded by trees that tower so high you feel they touch the sky when you stand at the base of their trunks.

The golden hues of the sprawling wheat fields, shipments crawling up the space elevators where ships in outer orbit pick them up, pulling the barges behind them as they bring the nourishment of the sector to the other planets.

It’s perfection, except for the black circles of rot that mar the perfect golden wheat fields, the blights that stand out like black eyes.

“Beautiful,” comes Doman’s voice from behind me, breaking my trance. He stands at my side, changed into his formal robes, looking out at my home planet. “When all this is done… I’d like to visit here, once more.”

“You won’t find much welcome. Many things can hide in forests so thick no sunlight comes through.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” comes Titus’ low, gravelly voice as he puts his arms around me from behind, pulling me close to him as Gallien stands to my left. My home is in front of me, the huge bulks of the triad surrounding me and pinning me in as we approach the atmosphere.

Returning to my home planet, after all this time.

I never could have imagined it would be with the crown prince at my side, and I wish I could turn myself invisible.