I straighten to my full height and roll my shoulders to loosen them as I prepare for our confrontation. “Maybe next time, Luslym, treat everyone with the same respect. You never know who someone really is underneath their mask.”
Except my mask is pretending I’m a prince.
Port guards help break up the crowd.
Eluni looks equally petrified as Luslym.
Why did it have to be in front of everyone, Father?
Aura, it’s how he controls you. Public displays are difficult to deny.
Thank you, Allele. I know that. I just can’t believe he’s still doing this like I’m a child.
My father, in his usual purple chrome body armor and green velvet cloak, his cybernetic crown glimmering with Storm light, pulls me aside. “What were you thinking? You cannot risk yourlife to end a petty conflict. Leave that to the guards! And what have I told you about publicly displaying your Storm?”
But my Storm wanted me to intervene. Our people used to trust their Storms as much as any facts. I try to twist it in a way he likes so he’ll leave me alone. “I wanted control over the Drathious as soon as possible. His kind is not understood by our people.”
“A prince does not put his life in the hands of unfamiliar beings,” he scolds me. “Your desperation muddled your rationale. You must learn to control your emotions and stop trying to be a hero. Dreams and emotions are for the weak. And where is your cloak and Royal armor? Why do you still wear the dull armor of a soldier?”
“Because I am always in Rogue Orbit. You don’t want me onboardTiatith, so why does it matter what I wear?”
In desperate times, dreams and feelings are sometimes all that hold me together. I glower at him.Because I am a soldier for my people, not a prince. I have no desire to rule over others. You have ruled my life for decades. Nothing I have achieved is because of you.But I’m not going to waste my breath. He won’t listen.
“You arenotthinking clearly because you have pent-up energy that you need to release with a mate,” he reasserts.
It is a strain to not roll my eyes in front of him.
“I have negotiated for many good matches from other motherships. Sembia on Luridia is willing to pair with you.”
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 herpeople need what she has. None of them are stimulating to talk to. They are all fake, ego-centric, or naïve.”
“You need…”
His pestering grows intolerable. “I do notwantthem, 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 yourpositionandthismothership. 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,Iam 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 isdarkabout 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.
