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“You are correct,” I say, my tone a little more icy than I had intended.

“The previous protection tax ranged from ten to fifteen percent. Many planets decided to declare Independence. Ninety-four percent of them have come back under the fold of the Aurelian Empire, giving up their sovereignty once more. Only now, the taxes are over forty percent. Entire planets have had their economies reshaped, turned into nothing but factories to produce your Reavers, your missiles, your guns.”

Doman smirks. “Declaring Independence seemed to have been a poor choice. Over a century of peace, and those planets did not grow their own armies and defenses. But the people voted for it, did they not? They voted to throw off our rule, and then they voted to come crawling back. Is that not democracy? Allowing everyone to decide their fate?”

That stab is too much. I step forward, fuming.

“Let me get the timeline straight. Over two centuries ago, your mother becomes Queen of the Aurelian Empire. Her first great changes are to the harem system. Huge financial payouts guaranteed after three years of service, not just to the woman, but to the communities they came from. Who would leave, before those three years are over? How many women were pressured by their own people to give up everything to become nothing more than a toy of your triads?”

“Most choose to remain after the three years,” growls Titus. He’s no longer lounging back. He’s leaning forward, his biceps flexed and huge under his robes, fire in his gray eyes. He doesn’t like to be lectured by a human.

“Oh yes. This is true. And the Priests on your planets were quite mad about the whole thing, weren’t they? Next, the Independence decrees. If the majority decides, they can throw off your yoke, no longer paying heavy taxes, no longer protected. Is this so?”

“It is so,” says Gallien, looking at me with an intellectual curiosity. He’s not as tall or broad as his battle-brothers, but he’s still seven feet of lean, chiseled muscle, watching me intently.

I’ve mentioned only his mother, as if Doman’s three fathers had no say in the matter. I don’t know how true that is—but I’m trying to find chinks in his armor, put him off guard.

“Your Queen Mother enacted the exact policies that would inflame the Priests and their fanatical followers. The same ones who now follow the Old Ways, who wage war against you. The civil war begins, and suddenly, all those planets that threw off your protection need it. They bow down. They pay double, triple the taxes, they have their entire economies turned to your war effort, and they accept deals spanning centuries, sometimes thousands of years, in their desperation. More planets, as well. Border planets that never once thought of joining the Aurelian Empire come flocking to you, joining your fold. It seems that your honored Queen Mother’s Independence decrees ended up expanding your power, not diminishing it. ”

“What do you insinuate?” Doman’s voice has a hard edge to it that tells me to be careful, but the anger is flowing up through me. I force it down, picking my words carefully.

“I insinuate that your species works in eons, not decades. You plan ahead. But perhaps there was a miscalculation.”

The three men wait, staring me down, not uttering another infuriating quip.

I keep my silence. I let it hang.

Finally, Doman breaks. “And what was that?”

“Obsidian. The son of General Asmod, whom your father’s triad slew to take the throne.

You believed their dark prophecies to be nothing but words.

You did not believe the living War-God existed.

And now he is at the gates, hungered for revenge, and you keep his pregnant Mate captive.

You did not expect the prophecies to come true, for a third of your species to turn against you.

You planned for a small rebellion, just enough threat to make human planets come crawling to you, but now you have death at your gates. ”

“We are pushing him back,” growls Titus, his hands gripping the marble arms of his throne.

“Not by Aurelians alone. Mark-10s. Refined by a human, Evelyn Surkao, now the wedded Princess of Bruton. You’ve created life from a lab. You have born souls into the world for the only purpose of war.”

Doman smiles. The cocky, arrogant smile returns as he becomes comfortable once more.

“As me and my triad were born into this world. As every one of my species is born into this world. So. Is your long-winded speech and rather… blunt accusations of conspiracy your way of saying your planets wish to revoke their Independence?”

“Do you plan to obliterate them if we refuse?” I keep my chin up, meeting his intense, bright blue eyes, not quaking under his baleful glare as he is struck by my words.

Never did I think these creatures would damn entire planets of people into nothingness. Never did I imagine they would wield the Planet-Killers against innocents. When I had the vision of them, I felt their beings, beings of pure war and power, but there was a shred of honor to them.

Just a shred. I never would have thought they would capture a pregnant woman, keep her locked up, using the Bond between her and Obsidian against their foe.

That is their most egregious sin. That is how I know that they are not human, that Queen Jasmine has become as they are, cold, calculating brutes whose only purpose is conquest.

That is how I know the Bond can corrupt a mind, can mold you into something you were not.

The three Aurelian princes are cold, sitting perfectly still, not even a flutter of movement, staring straight at me without blinking.

They are quiet, but I know there is a fierce, unheard conversation happening between them, weighing my words, deciding their response, communicating telepathically.

Prince Doman leans in. “No. You have my word, we will not use the Planet-Killers against any planet of the Pentaris cluster.” The game is up, and there’s no more dancing around his deadly cargo.

I keep myself rigid, but inside, there is a huge weight lifted off me. Prince Doman may be a monster...

But he is a monster with rules, a monster with honor, unlike the Fanatics of his species who threw off everything, following their War-God.

I know him. I know him better than anyone except his own battle-brothers.

I felt that when I felt his being, flooding through me, this hard edge of honor like iron.

“We ask of the Pentaris cluster only safe passage. An agreement, strong enough to hold any… rogue human nationalists in check. You know our cargo. You know how delicate it is. And you know that your territories give us the best route to our destination.”

Beside me, still silent, Aeris stiffens. Her face is pale, and she swallows, fear painted on her.

I shake my head. “You’re talking about taking the Planet-Killers into space controlled by the Fanatics. I cannot allow it. Using those weapons on their planets will kill every human subjugated by them. Billions of lives.”

“You have my word of honor, we do not plan to use the Planet-Killers against Obsidian’s planets. They do not have the weapons themselves. This is purely deterrence.”

My mind races. I piece it together. The only other species with the deadly weapons are the Toad Kingdom, who waged war against the Aurelians over a thousand years ago, a deadly battle that saw entire systems turned into empty space.

“The Toad Kingdom is bound by law not to use them.”

“Laws that have been broken. They have been testing their fleet. That cowardly species senses weakness, and they strike. You must know they are slowly probing your borders, flying through the contested space between your kingdom and theirs. We are bound by honor, but they are not. With the threat of the Planet-Killers, they could force you to surrender to them.”

I let his comment that our democratic system is a kingdom flow over me—he did not mean it as an insult, a small mistake in his speech that tells me he hadn’t been planning to reveal all this to me.

“We are escorting two Planet-Killers to the border, to use on the uninhabited planet of X4-Z. We will take it out of existence, and the Toad Kingdom will know that our fleet is still functional. That was the reason for their tests. Not to use them—but to see if we could respond in turn. If we do not show them we still have the capabilities, and the will to use them, they will see it as weakness. My species will not fight a war on two fronts. Not if it can be avoided.”

I’m surprised by his openness. I can’t tell if it’s a new ploy. I doubt even his top generals have the full extent of this information.

Unless there is more he is hiding, key details that I will ignore, thinking I have the full story.

“May I speak, your highness?” asks Aeris, breaking her silence.

“Aeris of Etherion. Please do,” says Doman, with respect he doesn’t grant me.

“I beg of thee, do not perform your demonstrations.”

Doman slides his long finger against the marble of his armrest, considering her words.

“We have a great respect for the seers of your planet. Do you have a vision, to share with us?” Gallien’s voice has an urgency he can’t conceal.

“Yes and no,” replies Aeris. “Our visions stretch out into the future, a thousand different threads. They are never clear. The threads of the future ripple and spread out into eternity.”

Doman looks over at me, then her. “Well, if you have nothing concrete to add…”

“That is just it, Prince Doman. The threads are alive. They tense and they reverberate. At least, they always have.”

The three Aurelian princes stiffen, ever so slightly. They focus on Aeris with an intensity in their gazes as if they are preparing to go into war, awaiting her every word.

“Each vision, more threads go dead.”

“Dead? What do you mean, dead?” Doman’s voice is cold and hard.