4
The silence woke her.
Back home, morning meant the rumble of the garbage truck in the alley three floors down, thethump-hissof the coffee maker on a timer she kept forgetting to clean, and Barnaby screaming for his breakfast like he hadn't eaten in a week.It was noisy and chaotic...nothing like this.
She stared up at the ceiling.Here, the silence was thick and wrong.The light in the room shifted subtly, mimicking a sunrise she couldn't see as it turned the white walls a soft, blushing apricot.
She sat up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist.Memories of the previous night crashed into her, sharp and disorienting.The Great Hall.The noise.The sheer, overwhelming scale of it…
And Daaynal.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands against them.The Emperor hadn't been what she expected.He should have been a monster.Instead, he’d been...charming.He’d held her hand like it was made of glass.He’d smiled at her and seemed to mean it, introducing her to commanders and dukes as if she were a prize he couldn't believe he’d won.
She ran her hands through her hair.It would besomuch easier to hate him if he were a villain.But he wasn't.He was just...nice.
But then there was Raaevik.
The image of the bodyguard’s face as she’d walked away burned behind her eyelids.The stone mask had slipped, just for a second.She’d seen the hunger there.And that made the butterflies in her stomach riot.
"Stop it," she whispered to the empty room."Just stop.You’re marrying the Emperor."
Which meant his bodyguard was off limits.So far off limits, he might as well be in a different galaxy.
She swung her legs out of bed.Her toes sank into a rug that probably cost more than her entire college education.A robe had been laid out for her, a flowing thing of shimmering blue fabric that looked like water caught in mid-ripple.
She put it on because she had to.But then she went to the closet—a walk-in space big enough to host a cocktail party—and dug past the rows of alien couture until she found the small, sad pile of things that had survived the trip from Earth.
Her jeans were gone.Her favorite sweater?Gone.But there, shoved in the back corner, were her boots.She ignored all the pretty alien footwear and pulled them out.They were scuffed brown leather, the heels were worn down on the outside edge, and there was a stain on the left toe from a dropped latte.They were ugly, practical, andhers.
She pulled them on.They clashed horribly with the silk, bunching the delicate hem around her ankles.She looked like a runaway bride who'd gotten lost at a construction site.
Good.
Walking to the door, she waved her hand over the sensor.She expected Raaevik, and her heart kicked up a beat as it slid open.But the warrior standing guard outside wasn't Raaevik.
He was just as big, but his hair was a deep, burnished copper instead of blond, and his face was broader, less severe.He wore the black leather uniform of the Imperial Guard and snapped to attention the moment he saw her.But there was tension in his jaw, and impatience in the set of his shoulders.This one ran hot.She'd worked with guys like him at the shelter—all coiled energy and short fuses, waiting for someone to give them a reason.
"Your Grace," he rumbled, executing a sharp bow.
She blinked, hiding her disappointment."Hi.Um.Where is..."
She trailed off.Asking for Raaevik probably wasn't a good idea."Who are you?"
"I am Thyaar, Your Grace.Sub-Commander Raaevik is attending to other duties this morning.I have been assigned to your personal detail."
His eyes flicked down to her boots.One eyebrow twitched upward, just a fraction, before his face smoothed back into professional blankness.
"Right.Thyaar."She offered a tight smile."I need coffee.Or whatever the closest equivalent is.And I need to not be in this room for a while."
"Of course.If you will follow me."
He didn't try to stop her.He fell into step beside her, close enough to intervene if someone attacked, far enough away to be respectful.It was professional.Cold.
Raaevik walked closer.She liked Raaevik walking closer, but she didn’t want Thyaar to.
They moved through the corridors, transitioning from the hushed royal sector to the public areas of Devan Station.The architecture opened up, vaulting ceilings giving way to a massive, multi-level Promenade that looked out into the star-strewn blackness of space.
It was crowded.Lathar warriors, tall beings with ash-colored skin and curving horns, and other species she couldn't name… some with feathers, some with blue scales.It was a bustling, noisy flow of life.
