Page 43

ADRIANA

I steel myself as I stand in front of the bay doors of the warship.

Doman himself took the captain’s chair as we approached the atmosphere.

As my home planet grew in the viewing glass, I couldn’t help but turn and watch him.

Seeing him at the controls, navigating the massive warship with pure concentration, was entrancing.

As we touched down in the landing field, which was made for smaller ships, he piloted us down gently, with great care, as if he didn’t want to crush a single blade of grass that was not necessary.

When he touched down, the entire bridge seemed to let out a collective breath, the Aurelian triads, focused on their screens, glancing over at Doman with a respect that is earned.

I had thought of princes as those born into unearned wealth and prestige, but these men would follow him into death not because of his birthright, but by his natural leadership, his willingness to put himself on the line, no matter what the odds.

As we settle down, I look back to Virelia, the huge forests rising above me.

We touched down near one of the major cities, but you wouldn’t be able to tell it from a glance, unless you knew that the homes were built around the trees themselves, some of the inhabitants never touching solid ground for years.

No matter my trepidation, I yearn to see my childhood home again.

Doman and his triad stand from their seats in the center of the bridge, and we walk together, followed by triads of guards, to the bay. Above us, the emblem of the Aurelian Empire watches down, the rising sun spreading its light against the darkness of the universe.

That light is not welcome here.

“Doman, I know you need security, but the fewer Aurelian boots on the ground, the better.”

He raises his hand. At his silent signal, every one of the troops steps back.

One of the guards casts a hard look at me before accepting the command.

They don’t like to see their Prince unprotected.

He’s led them into battle thousands of times over his long life, and they view Virelia as a hostile planet.

They should.

The triads walk down the hallways, leaving us alone, and I brace myself as the doors open.

At this point, I will be like an alien to the people who raised me, to my brother and sister who I used to be so close to.

My last visit was over three years ago. Since being elected to Prime Minister, I have barely had time to take calls from them—and to my shame, I’ve been avoiding their requests for messages since the news about my union to the Aurelian Princes was announced.

I’m ashamed of it, but I couldn’t handle it. I sent a quick text communication that I was okay, hoping it would soothe their fears, but I should have been stronger.

I don’t fit in on this planet anymore. My drab, gray uniform makes me a stranger, for all who join the Administration swear an oath to Pentaris that supersedes their loyalties. My last remnant of home, the heels I kept as my lucky charm, are tucked away in my closet.

The last time I truly felt like myself was when I was in the pleasure room with the triad.

As the doors open completely, and the fresh, highly oxygenated air rushes in, all my worries melt away.

I’m home. The sound of birds, the smell of the trees, that cleanness that you can’t get anywhere else.

There are two rows of men and women waiting for us.

Wardens, in the brown and green camouflage.

In the trees, you could be a few feet away from them and you’d never see them.

They would have doused themselves in forest scent as well, knowing that Aurelians have a keen sense of smell.

To my discomfort, they all have the standard issue EMP gauntlets on their left hands, which can disable machinery, and on their backs are slung the zero-point sniper rifles that pierce a thin, tight beam with low collateral damage in the forest when used to hunt down poachers.

When the wardens are on patrol, far from the forest cities, they are judge, jury and executioner.

The way they look at the Aurelian triad, right now, they’re feeling like the latter.

But in those hard, unfriendly faces, I don’t see the ones I was expecting. My older brother is a high-ranking ranger, and my father is the leader of this forest. Their absence chills me.

The only face I recognize stands at the end of the line in the center. While Tabitha, the planetary representative, is poignantly absent, the top politician of this continent, a friendly face in the sea of anger, is awaiting us.

Calder Wynham, the former head warden, still with lean muscles from working the forests daily.

His brown beard has a few more flecks of gray in it than I remember, and he’s a little bit paler than before, but it’s still him.

He’s got a long golden necklace with a bright green pendant at the end, and I can already imagine Titus grumbling to me later about how he wasn’t allowed his chain.

Behind him are two women and a man in the flowing green, blues and browns of our people, each holding a small brown bag.

We walk through the gauntlet of men and women, the Aurelians seeming not to sense the danger, fully relaxed, Doman at my side, Gallien and Titus trailing a step behind.

They slow their long-legged pace so I can walk with dignity.

There are no drones darting around, no media with holo-vid cameras.

Virelia wants this to be as small as possible in the national consciousness.

“Adriana Hart, Prime Minister of Pentaris.” His eyes crinkle as he tries not to smile.

“Calder Wynham, protector of the northern forests.”

“I did more protecting as a warden. That’s on your father now.” And the smile breaks out, warm and gentle. He opens his arms, and I hug him. The Aurelians tense up, but Calder was like an uncle to me, good friends with my dad and often coming to our family dinners.

The Aurelians tense up a little, not expecting this, but they make no threatening movements.

He turns to the three Aurelians, even as I am brimming with questions about where my family are.

“Crown Prince Doman. Prince Gallien, Prince Titus. I pledge to you safety during your stay.”

“Thank you, protector Wynham.”

I can’t wait a second longer. “My family, where are they?”

Calder tenses up. “They are in your home. You were not informed?”

I think of the hundreds of unread messages and communications waiting for me and try to keep my face neutral.

Calder clears his throat. “We know that time is pressing for you. We have prepared everything we need for the ritual. When planted, the seeds will be guarded day and night, and no harm will come to them. Your union will blossom.” The men and the woman behind him proffer the bags, filled with seeds, from which we will each pick one to plant.

The concord pine. They do not compete with each other for sun, but grow together, winding their trunks and branches outwards, nourishing trees of their own species.

Since the triad is three, the four trees will grow together, and with time will become the tallest of all the concord pines on the planet. It will be another poisonous bile for the nationalist to swallow, and Calder is right to post guards. It would be uprooted this very night if not.

“I would like to spend a night on my home planet and see my family. Would we postpone the ceremony for tomorrow?”

I know it’s just a formality. That I was voted into this marriage.

But I had always imagined that when it came time for me to plant the seeds with the love of my life, I would be surrounded by my family.

It was meant to be one of the happiest moments, and now, everything feels wrong.

Not even my little sister wanted to come.

The wardens watching tense up palpably. They had been expecting us to be in and out in minutes.

Calder nods. “Of course. Your family has planned to see you after the ritual, once the planting was done and the royal triad had returned to the… comfort of their ship,” he says, giving the Aurelians a long look.

On diplomatic affairs, I’ve got a team of advisors, sharp minds that will give me counsel on any issue.

Dealing with family? It’s messy. There’s no playbook on dealing with the muddiness, because my father Owen is head warden, my older brother Oakly is a captain in the forest guard, and their absence is a message.

The forest of my home, the wall of trees that climb to the skies, brings back a thousand memories. I scan the foliage, looking for any sign of movement, but any warden worth his salt would be hidden against the greenery.

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.”