Chapter 18
Cullen
I caught my reflection in the polished metal wall of the antechamber and still didn't quite recognize the man staring back at me.
The Garoot healer had done more than save my life.
It had turned back the clock—approximately twenty-six years, according to the medical team.
The gray at my temples was gone. The lines around my eyes had smoothed.
My skin looked tighter, healthier. Even my posture felt different—straighter, stronger, like my body had shed decades of wear and tear along with the injuries.
I was fifty-three years old. I looked thirty-three.
It was disorienting as hell.
"You know," Chloe said from across the antechamber, her tone dry, "it's really not fair that you look younger than I do. I'm your daughter. This violates some fundamental law of nature."
Despite the tension coiling in my gut, I managed a smile. "If it helps, I still feel old."
"It doesn't help." But she was smiling too, even if the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. She was nervous. We all were.
The antechamber was elegant in that understated way that screamed power—high ceilings, walls of pale stone veined with gold, furniture that looked ancient and priceless.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling city of Calpa below, all gleaming spires and flowing architecture that seemed to grow organically from the landscape.
But none of us were looking at the view.
Ako stood near the door that led to the Council chamber, his posture rigid, his expression troubled. He'd been quiet since we'd arrived, his usual calm replaced by something that looked uncomfortably like worry.
Nansar sat beside Chloe, one hand resting on her knee in a gesture of comfort. He was Ako's son—tall, muscular, with that same warrior bearing—with pale skin and long platinum hair. He'd saved my daughter's live. He adored her. I could do much worse for a son-in-law.
Charick stood by the windows, his mate Willa at his side, staring out at the city. Serna's son looked like his mother—same strong features, same intensity—but there was something heavy in his posture. Something resigned.
"How long do you think they'll deliberate?" Chloe asked, breaking the silence.
"They won't," Ako said quietly. "Serna will address them directly. They'll respond immediately."
"And if they don't approve?" I heard myself ask.
Ako turned to look at me, and I saw the weight of centuries in his eyes. "Then we'll have a constitutional crisis unlike anything the Alliance has seen in generations."
"That's comforting," I muttered.
"Riuondo had support," Ako continued, his voice low.
"More than we realized. The lesser royals, particularly among the Romvesians—they saw him as a champion of traditional values.
A warrior who understood strength." He paused.
"We've already arrested Lord Savelth and Lady Vesprex.
Duke Moren managed to flee before our forces could secure him, but we have evidence of his collaboration—financial transactions, military intelligence he provided.
King Jurtis is claiming he knew nothing of Riuondo's survival.
We don't have proof that he knew, so we can't act directly, but the Council is aware of his suspicious closeness to Riuondo's followers. "
He turned his gaze to me, and it was heavy.
"The Council won't be pleased that Serna killed Riunodo. And they certainly won't be pleased that she's chosen a human as her mate."
"They'll get over it," Chloe said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Will they?" Ako's gaze was steady. "Riuondo spent a century building alliances, cultivating support. Those people don't simply disappear because their leader is dead. They'll be looking for someone else to rally behind. Someone who shares their vision of the Alliance."
"A vision that includes human slavery," I said flatly.
"Yes."
The word hung in the air like a threat.
Down the bond, I felt Serna's presence—steady, focused, preparing herself for what came next. She was in an adjacent chamber, going over her speech one final time. I wanted to go to her, to offer support, but this was something she needed to do alone.
"She'll handle it," Charick said suddenly, still staring out the window. "My mother has never lost a political battle. She won't start now."
"This isn't just politics," Ako said gently. "This is personal. The Council has never had to approve a Prime's choice of mate before—it's always been arranged through family alliances. This is unprecedented."
"So was a human becoming part of the Alliance leadership," Nansar pointed out. "Yet here we are."
"Here we are," Ako echoed, but he didn't sound reassured.
I looked down at my hands—these younger hands that still felt foreign.
The Garoot healer had erased the scars from Riuondo's torture, had knitted broken bones and burned flesh back together with impossible precision.
But it couldn't erase the memory of that pain.
Couldn't erase the sound of Serna screaming as she watched me suffer.
My mind shifted into tactical mode—the same way it had during mission briefings in the Navy. Assess the situation. Identify the obstacles. Formulate a strategy.
"Ako," I said, turning to face him directly. "You said Riuondo had supporters. How many are we talking about?"
Ako's expression sharpened with interest. "Among the lesser royals? Perhaps two hundred families who openly backed his vision. Another fifty or so who were sympathetic but kept their distance."
"So we're looking at maybe three hundred Council members who see me as everything they oppose." I ran the numbers in my head. "Out of ten thousand-plus representatives, that's manageable. But they'll be vocal. They'll try to sway the moderates."
"They will," Ako confirmed. "And they'll use you as a symbol—proof that Serna has been compromised by human influence."
"Then we need to control the narrative before they can." I stood, pacing the way I used to before operations. "Serna's speech will be powerful. But she's speaking as the Prime—as someone defending her choice. That puts her on the defensive."
"What are you suggesting?" Charick asked, watching me with sharp attention.
"I'm suggesting we go on the offensive." I turned to Ako.
"You need to speak as well. You're respected, you've served the Alliance for decades.
You establish Serna's character, her record, her sacrifices.
You remind them what she's accomplished.
And you remind the Alliance that you have a human mate and a half-human son. "
Ako nodded slowly. "That was already the plan."
"Good." I took a deep breath, the decision made. "Then I will speak."
Chloe's eyes widened. "Dad—"
"Just a brief statement," I explained quickly.
"Two, maybe three minutes. I address the Council as a military officer, not as her mate.
I talk about what I've learned working with Alliance forces.
I acknowledge the concerns about human integration—don't dismiss them, acknowledge them. Show I understand the complexity."
"And then?" Ako asked, his tone thoughtful.
"Then I make it clear that I'm not here to change the Alliance.
I'm here to serve it. That my role as Prime Consort isn't about Earth gaining influence—it's about supporting Serna's leadership.
I speak to my military experience, the fact that I've spent my career following orders and understanding chain of command.
I make myself credible to the skeptics."
"You make yourself non-threatening," Nansar said, understanding dawning in his expression.
"Exactly. I'm not a political operator. I'm not angling for power. I'm a soldier who fell in love with his commander." I looked at Ako. "Hopefully, they'll see me as someone who understands duty and sacrifice—values the Alliance respects."
Ako was quiet for a long moment, his gaze assessing. "It's a sound strategy. But it requires you to be vulnerable in front of thousands of beings who may not wish you well."
"I've been tortured," I said flatly. "I think I can handle some political hostility."
"There's a risk," Charick said carefully. "If you speak and it goes poorly, it could undermine my mother's position."
"It won't go poorly." I met his eyes. "I've briefed world leaders and generals. I know how to read a room, how to adjust on the fly. And I know when to shut up and let someone else take the lead."
Chloe was staring at me with something like pride. "You've been thinking about this."
"I've been thinking about nothing else since we got back." I looked at Ako. "Will it work?"
"It might." Ako's expression was thoughtful. "It's unconventional. But then, so is everything about this situation."
The door to the Council chamber opened, and a tall Kaelaks in formal robes stepped through. "The Council is assembled. The Prime will address them now."
We filed through the doorway, and I stopped dead, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of what lay before us.
The Council chamber was massive—easily the size of a football stadium, but designed with the grandeur of ancient Rome.
Tiers of seats rose in concentric circles around a central floor, each level packed with beings from across the Alliance.
I saw Vaktaire and Romvesians, Ardesians and Ulkommenians, Aljani and Garoot, Kerzak, Kaelaks and dozens of species I didn't recognize.
Over ten thousand representatives, all gathered in this single space.
The architecture was breathtaking—soaring columns carved with intricate designs, a domed ceiling that seemed to capture and amplify light, making the entire chamber glow with soft radiance. Banners hung from the upper tiers, each bearing the symbol of a different Alliance world.
It felt ancient. Powerful. Like standing in a place where history was made.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Ako said quietly beside me. "This chamber has stood for thousands of years. Every major decision in Alliance history has been made here."
And now my fate—our fate—would be decided here too.