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Roy cupped Cal’s cheeks, his thumb grazing the deep scar that cut from Cal’s cheekbone to his chin, splitting his lips. It had healed significantly since the war ended, but it remained a constant reminder of the void trying to snatch Cal’s soul. He pressed their foreheads together and chuckled. “I love you, my prince.”

“Love you too, my fair sailor,” Cal grinned and pressed his lips to Roy’s mouth.

When they separated, the gust of wind around them intensified, wheezing enough to muffle all other sounds. The white petals flew around them like snowflakes on their sector’s colder planets. A gush fluttered into Roy’s face, momentarily blinding him and overwhelming him in the whirl. He remained anchored to reality, though, thanks to Cal’s arms around his waist.

The flow of guests that congratulated the newly soul-bound couple seemed endless. Roy suppressed the yawn gathering in his jaw and forced a smile as Zzrn walked over, offering one of his chitinous hands.

“Thank you for the invitation. May your union last,” he buzzed in the common language.

Roy cleared his throat and pressed his tongue against his palate, trying his best to click it properly. “Thank you, Zzrn. Happy to have you here.”

Zrrn’s compound eyes blinked at him, his long snout twitching. Peripherally, Roy noticed how Cal was suppressing a cackle.

At last, the laughter spilt from Cal’s mouth. “I’m sorry, love. But you just called him a rotten potato.”

“But you’re getting better,” Zrrn added, his three right hands patting Roy’s biceps. “Come visit more often. Practizzze the buzz.”

“Gladly. Maybe we’ll stop by on our way back.”

Cal exchanged the last pleasantries. Then he took his hand and led him out of the temple. They stopped at the gate and turned around, waving to their friends and family they wouldn’t see for a few weeks. At the crowd’s request, Roy pulled his soulmate closer and kissed his thin lips. Cal returned the affection with a tiny nip.

Roy navigated toward the restaurant floating in the distance. His gaze strayed to the side. Cal snored loudly, folded in the navigator seat in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable.

Reaching out to him, Roy laced their fingers and squeezed gently. “Come on, sleepy prince. We’re almost there.”

“Ugh.” Cal stretched his legs and rubbed his eyes. “I had such a good nap.”

They changed into simple suits, as the invitation’s dress code required. Cal secured Roy’s cufflinks, straightened his collar and fixed his crooked jacket buttons. A warm smile spread across his face. Roy imagined there was at least a speck of pride.

Once in the restaurant’s airlock, four mech-armoured soldiers stepped toward them, their metal boots stomping on the floor. One of them adjusted the turquoise cloth flopping on his shoulder. Their visor glowed blue as they spoke. “Welcome, Roy and Caelestian. I’m afraid we’ll need to search you before entering. Security rules.”

Roy nodded and lifted his arms, letting the soldier pat him down and scan him. The red beam swept over his body without a beep. The soldier hummed—or perhaps it was just the noise of his power joints. “Go on. They’re already waiting for you.”

With a palm pressed on the small of his husband’s back, Roy strolled through the restaurant’s empty halls. Customers must have been denied that day; only power-armoured soldiers patrolled the corridors.

The vast dining hall yawned empty, except for two silhouettes sitting at the very end. Cal’s eyes narrowed; a shiver travelled through his body.

“Your Majesties!” Cal’s voice bounced off the walls as he curtsied.

Roy followed, and when he dared to lift his eyes, the Imperial couple was moving toward them. The Emperor hovered over his husband, watching every step, while the Emperor Consort limped, his alabaster cane tapping on the floor.

“Cal! Oh, how delightful to see you,” the Emperor Consort exclaimed. “And this must be Roy?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Roy replied, bowing his head. What a contrast cryostasis had created. The Emperor’s hair turned bright white; his husband’s stayed completely black, preserved by the frost and chemicals in his veins. What the stasis saved from his appearance, it apparently took from his muscles. His body shook, his feet dragged on the floor, and he leaned most of his weight on the cane.

“Please, no formalities,” the Emperor Consort waved his hand. A smile illuminated his tired face. “Here, I’m just Davie.” He gripped Cal in a one-armed hug, chuckling softly. His left hand slid on Cal’s biceps. The yawning abyss of his severed ring finger sent a shiver down Roy’s spine, and a pinch of phantom pain in his own hand.

“Thank you for having us,” Cal mumbled.

“Sorry we couldn’t come to the ceremony,” Davie said after one last pat to Cal’s back. He moved over to Roy and pulled him into a similar hug. Scents enveloped Roy’s senses—expensive infused oils he’d never encountered before, sweetness and floral tones he couldn’t even classify. “But I didn’t want you to worry about the tabloids.”

“Yes, we wanted to keep it small.” Cal sat at the table, unrolling a napkin on his thighs. “How are you, Davie?”

With a very unroyal jerk of his shoulder, Davie grinned. “Been better. There’s still a lot of physio ahead, but hopefully I’ll be less dependent soon.”

“Don’t say that.” The Emperor frowned, scooting his chair closer to his husband. “You’re not dependent. You just need a bit of help.”

“Yeah, but I wish I required less of it.” Davie sighed, flipping through the menu. “My memory’s also still foggy in places. Hopefully, I’ll remember more before Elsie starts her studies. Our oldest,” he added, perhaps catching Roy’s confused frown. “She’s signed up for the Academia. Spacecraft engineering, just like her Papa.”