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I cross my arms and look my father square in the eyes.

“She’s a bully, runs her mothership like a vessel of servants.

Catianna on Evalar is sheltered and hidden from her people, trained that her thoughts do not matter.

She wouldn’t even speak to me. Yerie of Keohiit is obsessive when she gets a hold of something.

She cannot let go of anything. That’s unhealthy, especially if her people need what she has.

None of them are stimulating to talk to.

They are all fake, ego-centric, or na?ve. ”

“You need…”

His pestering grows intolerable. “I do not want them, Father! I will not bond with a female I cannot look in the eyes and be truthful with about what I think and feel! Sometimes, I refuse them because they cannot set aside themselves for their people!

“We will die off if we do not listen to our Storms! They are our advantage up here! Birth rate is down! Neb attacks are up! We are dying off because we’re ignoring the biological needs of our vessels!” I pound a fist into my chest.

He sways and then angrily points at me. “You’re not respecting the needs of your position and this mothership. Until you are willing to serve these people the way you need to…”

“According to you,” I snap. “You have forgotten the old ways, the ways that made us this strong, produced healthy, powerful children! Our instincts tell us who is compatible: our Storms, their scents, and their eyes, Father!”

“Enough!” His Storm lights up under his collar.

So he does still have one. “I have almost forgotten what yours looks like.”

He bares his teeth at me and controls the arcs until they hide again with a skill I envy. “You are temporarily relieved of your Rogue Guard duties.”

His assistant, Wytsor, hesitantly walks up to me.

“You do not have the authority. You are not above the law,” I counter, fearing he’s found a loophole. Soldiers, civilians, and port security all around the market turn as if they’ve overheard.

“On this ship, I am the law, son.” In his deep green eyes is an arrogance that makes my insides squirm.

Three guards I’m not familiar with grab me from behind. One pries the badge from my belt.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Wytsor quietly remarks.

I jerk myself free of the Amphiran guards who oddly do not radiate any Storm energy.

I feel it as much as I notice it in their appearance.

Their eyes and skin look like ours, but something is dark about them.

“I will protect my people with the same heart even without it. As a leader should.” I glare fiercely at my father, furious with him for abusing loyalty. That is how loyalty goes extinct.

Turning to Wystor, I add, “You are an honorable Amphiran for doing your job. I do not blame you. I made the mistake. ”

Wystor gives me a soft smile and a nod. I know my father hurts him by the bruises on his arms, but he accepts it for the honor of calling himself the king’s assistant. I think it’s pathetic, and yet I cannot be more impressed with Wytsor’s determination. My father doesn’t deserve your servitude.

“I never thought you’d grow up to be this disrespectful,” my father sneers. “Aurelius the Unruly. I know the soldiers gave you that nickname in battle when you worked for the Sol Federation. But it suddenly has new meaning.”

“You have forgotten your mortality,” I bitterly remark. “And your vulnerability, humility, and the natural order of Amphir. You have become Senescent .”

Wytsor gasps. “Aura, no! Never say such a thing!”

My father holds up a hand, quieting his assistant.

“You have,” I protest. “You lead with your pride, not your heart, Father .”

“You know nothing of my heart,” he growls.

“Exactly!” I throw my hands in the air. “Mother never looks happy. No matter how hard I tried to make her smile as a child, she rarely did. Now, I know it’s because she was arranged to bond with you.”

“Avarylis is content,” he says.

I know she isn’t.

“ You are disobedient, disrespectful, and destructive to our society. I did not want to have to do this because you are my son, but you do not deserve the royal title you carry.”

I do not care for it.

“Since you refuse to follow orders, I hereby remove your right to reside on Tiatith .”

I thought he’d take my royal access, my title, and classify me a commoner, not ban me from Tiatith . A sick feeling grips my stomach. I swallow it down and keep my angry expression steady.

“Our current kings were never meant to rule us. They were once commanders that led us to safety from the Nebs. You protect only your investments now,” I growl loudly enough it makes the watching crowd stir and jab a finger into his decorative gold chest plate hard enough it knocks the ring of metal from his head.

“You take, and you order, and you control as if you know best about everything.”

“It is my duty!” he shouts.

I spread my feet, feeling dizzy with the realization this was my last day on Tiatith . “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s why the people need an elected council , not just advisors that royals choose on a whim!”

“You’re right. I did make a mistake.” He takes a step away from me, looking at me as if I am suddenly his enemy.

I feel as if I’m turning inside out with rejection.

It’s not that I need his approval, but that even when I am on my last thread, pending self-destruction, fighting for the people, he cannot see past his beliefs and the established behavioral expectations to the critical pieces that are out of place in our modern society.

“Your seed may have ignited my Storm, and I may have called you my father, but I have never respected you. You know only greed and power and violence. That is not who Amphirans are. Those are traits of Ginarigons, Talhuskins, Novarks, Denarso, and the Nebulous Empire. And I want nothing to do with your corruption any longer.”

“Aura, don’t do this.” Vybron urges me to calm down as he hustles up to us. I think Wytsor summoned him by the blinking light on his transparent tablet.

I have endured this long enough.

“He has my badge. I refuse to bond with a female who does not ignite my Storm as she should!” I defend. “And I will not force her to be with a mate she does not want.”

“Any female would be a fool not to savor her place as your mate,” my father says.

Vybron sighs and runs a hand over his mouth. He understands. He basically raised me while my father dined with diplomats and leaders of the galaxies. He respects Storms in the field and often teams soldiers up based on power classes, even though my father doesn’t know it.

“She is not ungrateful if she does not want me, King Azrim.”

“Aura, stop this.” Vybron is desperate. I know his job is to protect the Order of Amphir, but he is living a lie to preserve a dying breed.

“I have no place among you since those are the kings’ rules,” I add.

“We should expect more of ourselves as we are the models of power in this universe. You think being the first will always make you the best. But we were only first because we worked for it and strived to improve. We have since stopped.”

“I will blacklist you from all other motherships,” my father hisses.

“Fine. Do it!” I bellow.

“You’ll fail out there without us. You’ll die alone!” my father roars.

“One, I have real friends, something you don’t understand,” I retort. “Two, I have no qualms with dying alone as a free Amphiran! It is better than dying alone as a caged one.” I turn and stalk toward my ship.

“Aura,” Vybron calls after me.

“I am sorry.” I pause and glance back at Vybron, hoping he reads the sincerity in my eyes. No jokes today, not this time. “I never wanted to let you down.”

My father scoffs. But he should not expect me to love or respect him just because of what he is. I guess I am like Thorians in that I feel actions speak loudest.

I choose freedom, tradition, my Storm, and my people’s right to their Storms over servitude. No one can convince me that my father or any of the other kings have in mind the best interests of their people.

It’s all a ruse to keep the ones in power in power. It’s time someone stood up for our people. And as infuriating as it is, choosing isolation over mutiny is the best I can come up with.

A civil war will only lead to unnecessary death. I want the people to have freedom. I am a symbol of power that’s trying to model choosing another path, a path of peace.

“You will destroy Amphir with this,” my father angrily calls after me.

I turn around and hold my arms out. “Then kill me, father. But this is not Amphir. We had elected councils of peers, not self-appointed royals.”

“I will have you hunted so you live in fear for the rest of your life.”

“Or maybe I’ll just climb up your mountainous ego and jump to your heart, which hides in the deepest valley of Helfor. That fall will surely kill me.”

Wytsor gasps.

“Kings do not have the luxury of hearts,” my father says.

“Then change that!” I bellow. “But you won’t because you like power more than the bonds between Storms, between people!”

I fume as I turn away and mutter, “You love yourself so much, then go fuck yourself.”