Chapter 10
The emperor was waiting for her at the entrance to the reception hall.
He looked... huge. Magnificent. He wore the formal robes of state, heavy dark fabrics embroidered with the crest of the K'Saan line. But even in velvet and silk, power radiated off him. He saw her approach, and the polite mask he wore softened into warmth.
"Emily," he said, stepping forward.
He offered his arm and she took it, the polite and expected thing to do… but god, it felt so wrong.
His muscles were warm and solid beneath the fabric. But it wasn't the right heat. It wasn't the electric, terrifying charge she felt whenever Raaevik was near. It was just... pleasant. Pleasant and safe.
"You look lovely," Daaynal murmured, covering her fingers where they rested on his forearm. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she managed, pleased that her voice didn't shake.
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through his side. "Just stay close to me. Smile when I introduce you. Most of them are more afraid of you than you are of them."
"Afraid of me?" She nearly laughed. "I'm five foot nothing.”
"You are the choice of the Emperor," he said simply. "That makes you formidable."
He led her into the hall.
It was packed. Alien faces everywhere—colorful robes, military uniforms, all of them turning to stare. Conversation died, and the silence that followed made her want to bolt.
She fixed the smile on her face. Just a doll, she told herself. All she had to do was play the part.
They walked through the crowd. Daaynal moved with an easy grace, acknowledging people with a nod here, a word there, guiding her through the throng without ever letting go of her. He introduced her smoothly—"My intended, Emily Evans"—and watched with a hawk's eye as dignitaries bowed and scraped.
She nodded. She smiled. She said, "It's a pleasure to meet you," over and over until the words lost all meaning.
Raaevik was behind them… she didn't have to look to know. He was a shadow at her back, watching her with another man while she accepted the bows and compliments like they meant something.
"Charming," a voice purred.
They had stopped in front of a tall, reedy Latharian whose robes were so stiff with gold embroidery they probably could have stood up on their own. He looked down at her with eyes that were a shade of orange that made her think of toxic waste warnings.
"Lord Darryc," Daaynal said, his tone cooling by a few degrees.
"Your Majesty." Darryc bowed low, then turned his gaze back to her. He inspected her like she was a prize poodle at a conformation show. "Such a... delicate creature. Small."
“Not small,” she argued before she could stop herself. “I like to think of myself as more… concentrated,"
The corner of Daaynal's mouth quirked as Darryc blinked, then gave a thin smile. "Indeed. The Emperor is fortunate. To find a compatible mate among the... Primiti— ah, humans. A rare prize indeed.”
Her smile didn't waver, but inside, she was screaming. Primitives? Asshole. She wanted to kick him in his gold-covered shins.
“Emily is not a prize, Lord Darryc," Daaynal said, his voice soft but edged with steel. "She will be my Empress.”
He moved his hand from her arm to the small of her back. It should have felt protective, but all it did was make her want to crawl out of her skin.
She couldn't help it. She risked a glance back.
Raaevik stood at attention behind them, looking straight ahead. His face was blank, and his eyes were empty. But as Daaynal's hand shifted slightly on her back, guiding her forward, his jaw went tight.
"Come," the emperor said, steering her away from Lord Darryc. Not a moment too soon, either. "Let's get this over with. The observation deck is next."
The crowd parted for them, and she let Daaynal guide her through with his hand on her back. Playing the part.
The observation deck was stunning. A massive, curved wall of whatever super-science glass they used on the station, looking out over Earth below. It was meant to be grand… a backdrop for the official images that would be beamed across the empire.
He turned her toward the viewport. "Look at the stars, Emily."
Camera drones buzzed silently in the air, capturing the moment. The Emperor and his intended, gazing out at their dominion.
He leaned in close. To the cameras, it would look intimate. Lover-like.
"You're doing well," he whispered, his voice low and for her ears only. "I know this is difficult. You handled Darryc better than I usually do."
His breath washed over the side of her neck, and memory slammed into her. Raaevik's breath against her skin. Against her lips. His lips on hers, tasting of desperation and the forbidden. The way he had hesitated when he pulled away, as if ripping himself apart.
The blood drained from her face, her knees went weak, and for a second she thought she might actually faint like some kind of Victorian lady. Where were the smelling salts when you needed them?
"Emily?" The emperor's hand tightened on her waist and his voice sharpened with concern. "Are you alright?"
Blinking, she forced the stars back into focus. She couldn't fall apart here... not in front of the cameras. Not in front of the court. And definitely not in front of Raaevik.
"I'm fine," she lied, forcing another smile. "Just... overwhelmed. It's beautiful."
Daaynal's gaze lingered on her face, a slight frown between his brows.
"It is," he agreed softly. "But I think that's enough for today."
He signaled to the guards, and the cameras backed off. The crowd was held back. "Escort my mate back to her quarters," Daaynal ordered, looking over her head to Raaevik.
Great. Now everyone got to watch the future empress being escorted out like a kid who couldn't handle the grown-up party.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Raaevik's voice was a deep rumble. There was no hesitation or emotion.
Daaynal squeezed her hand one last time. "Rest, Emily. I'll check on you later."
"Thank you," she whispered.
Turning, she walked away. She could feel them watching… of course they were, the show wasn't over yet. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. She just had to make it to the corridor before she lost it completely.
Raaevik fell into step behind her, his boots heavy on the deck plates, and she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.
Because if she turned around and saw that blank expression—if there was nothing on his face after watching Daaynal touch her all night—she was going to lose it right there in the corridor.
What felt like hours later, but was probably only about two minutes, they reached her door. It slid open, and she stepped through before turning.
Raaevik stood in the corridor, like a statue.
"Rest well, my lady," he said. Nothing in his voice. Nothing in his face.
Then the door slid shut, cutting him off.
She stood in the silence of her quarters. The luxury pressed in—all silk dresses and jewels. Lucy was wrong. It wasn’t armor. It was a gilded cage.
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
Two hours. Two hours playing the happy bride, letting Daaynal touch her and comfort her. Letting him believe she was overwhelmed by the occasion when she was drowning in her own guilt.
And Raaevik...
She'd seen his jaw go tight, and that was supposed to mean something? One flicker of reaction while she spent two hours letting another man touch her?
She lowered her hands and looked at her reflection in the darkness of the window.
So that was that, then. Message received, loud and clear.
* * *
The commercial ring was loud as hell, and Emily had never been so grateful for noise in her life.
She'd slipped out through the door while Raaevik was talking to another guard, something about patrol handovers or schedules or something. Waiting, she'd caught the moment his attention shifted and made a break for it.
Down the corridor. Into the lift. Gone.
He'd find her, she knew he would, but she'd bought herself a few minutes first.
Pushing into the crowd, she let herself get jostled.
Back in plain joggers and a sweatshirt provided by the LMP, she was invisible…
or the nearest thing to it anyway. Station workers shoved past without a second glance.
Traders haggled in languages that sounded like clicking stones.
Nobody bowed. Nobody called her "Your Grace.
" She was just another body taking up space.
Thank. Fuck.
Ducking into a café near the edge of the promenade, she breathed a sigh of relief. The place was all chrome and molded plastic, with harsh lighting that buzzed. The coffee smelled like burned rubber. She ordered a cup anyway.
The server, a multi-armed robot, shoved a cup across the counter. Perfect.
Taking the cup, she found a table in the back corner out of the way. No less than two minutes later, a shadow fell over her table. She jerked her head up, then closed her eyes in relief at the sight of Lucy.
"You look like you're contemplating murder," the other woman said, sliding into the seat opposite. "Or suicide. The coffee here is bad enough to inspire either."
Emily's shoulders sagged. "Shit, you about gave me a heart attack! I thought you were Raaevik."
Grinning, Lucy leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Rough day at the office?"
Emily barked a short laugh. "Something like that. Are you stalking me?"
"I'd recognize that hunted look anywhere," Lucy said. "Besides, I saw the broadcast. The diplomatic thing. You looked... poise personified. Very regal. The camera loves you, Em."
"I looked like a fucking prop," she grumbled as she wrapped her hands around the cup, seeking the heat. "I felt like a liar."
The other woman's expression softened. She glanced around the café, checking the nearby tables with a casual look before turning back to Emily.
"It's a lot. I know it’s a lot,” she said gently. "For anyone. I mean… being plucked out of your life, dropped into this? It's really not fair, Em. And I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Keep it together, though. Don't let them see you crack. These assholes feed on weakness."
"I'm not cracking," she lied. "I'm just... tired."
"Tired of performing?" Lucy guessed, her expression sympathetic as she reached across the table to cover Emily’s hand with her own.
Emily flinched. It was too close to the truth. Way too close to the truth. "Tired of being someone I'm not. Tired of everyone deciding my life for me."
She took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. Yeah, burnt rubber.
"I feel like I'm disappearing. Like Emily Evans died the minute I got on that shuttle, and all that's left is the 'Emperor's matched mate'." She snorted. "I'm not a person, I'm just a womb to provide the heir."
"You're more than that," Lucy said fiercely. "I saw you with that cargo worker and his fruit cart, remember? When everyone else just stood there, you jumped in to help. That's who you are, Em. Fancy dress or not."
"Am I?" Emily looked down at her hands. They were trembling. "I don't feel like me. I feel like a fraud. Daaynal is... he's trying. He's so kind, it makes my teeth ache. And I just smile and let him think I'm adjusting."
"Kindness doesn't make a cage any less of a cage," Lucy pointed out. "My uncle used to keep birds. Beautiful, tropical things. Best seed, huge aviaries, talked to them every day. They were still prisoners."
Emily looked up. "I don't want to be a bird."
"Then don't be."
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," Lucy said. "Sometimes you just have to look for the door."
She shook her head, a tear slipping free to track hot down her cheek.
She dashed it away. "You don't understand, Lucy.
There is no door. Daaynal... the Emperor.
.. he interprets 'choice' as letting me pick which charity to run.
He can't let me go. The Council, the Empire.
.. I'm a matter of fucking intergalactic security now. "
Lucy was quiet for a long moment. She bit her lip, using her fingertip to trace around the top of her cup.
"What if…" Lucy's voice was barely a whisper. "I told you there was a way out?"
Emily froze. "What?"
Lucy leaned in closer. "A way out out. Gone. Back to Earth, or... somewhere else. Somewhere they can't find you. Somewhere the Emperor's reach doesn't extend."
Emily stared at her. "That's impossible. I'm the Emperor's ‘matched mate’. They have fleets and trackers and things… don't they?"
"They have blind spots," Lucy argued, her eyes intense. "Big ones. They're so arrogant, so sure of their power, they don't see what's right under their noses." She nodded toward the entrance. "Even him. Especially him. He looks at you and sees a duty, not a flight risk."
Emily followed her gaze. Raaevik stood like a statue, scanning the crowd both in the cafe and on the promenade outside. Shit, he'd found her already.
If she left...
Daaynal would be free too. The image of the woman in stasis filled her mind. Humiliated, maybe… hurt, but free. Free to be with the woman he actually wanted…
"How?" Emily breathed.
Lucy reached into her pocket and slid a small, flat device across the table. It looked like a standard data chip, but thicker, encased in black matte plastic that absorbed the harsh light of the café.
"There's a network," she said, her words tumbling over one another. "People who think forcing species together isn't diplomacy, it's slavery. They help people like us, Em. Safehouses, transports, jammers that can block the trackers."
Emily looked at the device. It was so small, just a piece of plastic.
"Take it," Lucy urged, pushing it closer. "Keep it hidden. If you decide, when you decide, you press the center. That's it. That sends the signal. They'll handle the rest."
"They?"
"I'm just a contact," Lucy shrugged. "But they're real. And they can get you out. Whenever you're ready."
She reached across the table. Her fingers brushed the cold plastic.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Lucy smiled, but there was fear there, she realized. Real fear.
"Us humans have to stick together," Lucy said, standing up and smoothing her clothes down. "Drink your coffee, Em. It'll all be okay, I promise."
With a wink, she walked away, threading her way through the crowded cafe. She disappeared into the mass on the promenade without looking back.
Emily sat alone at the table. She looked across the café at Raaevik. He was watching her, his face impassive, his gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the room. He took a step toward her, then stopped, holding his distance.
The device sat heavily in her pocket. He'd made his choice. Now she had to make hers.
She finished her coffee. It tasted like ash.