Chapter One

JOLAK WATCHED as King Bellmore sat at the head of the long, intricately carved wooden table, his royal counselors filling the seats on either side of him.

King Bellmore’s brow furrowed as he addressed the room. “Today brings news from King Duran of Tah’Nar. A request has been sent for a meeting to discuss the ongoing situation with the Tah’Narians and their search for compatible mates.”

Jolak’s breath caught. This was what had been on his father’s mind the past few days? The heavy atmosphere in the room was palpable, and Jolak understood their concern. This was no trifling request.

“They are interested in seeing if we are willing to provide males for them,”

King Bellmore said. “They have already approached another planet in our system.”

Everybody was aware of the war between the Onfre and the Tah’Narians, as well as the resulting outcome.

“And what do they offer in exchange?”

Reeves, one of the counselors, inquired, leaning forward in his ornate throne-like chair.

The room was heavy with anticipation and curiosity, each member eager to hear the details of this potential partnership.

“Technology,”

King Bellmore said. “As you are well aware, our society is not on par with that of the Tah’Narians.”

Jolak nodded. That was very bluntly put by his father, but achingly true.

“That could be worthwhile,”

Counselor Artus said.

“I agree. King Duran also told me that he had approached the Emperor of the Western Hemisphere and was denied,”

King Bellmore said.

That didn’t surprise Jolak at all. Emperor Adama was a narrow-minded, self-absorbed, greed-driven tyrant who had a tendency to make heartless decisions concerning the poorest of his people. It was the main reason why their people had basically divided themselves into two groups and moved to different hemispheres of their planet.

“Interesting. And shortsighted,”

Counselor Reeves mentioned.

“While I may be in favor of doing this, I do not believe we should force any of our young men,”

another counselor said.

“Of course not,”

King Bellmore said. “I will not force any of my citizens into such an arrangement. It will be volunteer only, and I do believe we will have volunteers. It’s a great opportunity if one thinks about it—travel, luxury, technology, education, and so on.”

“Those are things we have here,”

another counselor pointed out.

“We do, yes, but not to the extent the Tah’Narians do. And our space program is just now getting off the ground. There’s no arguing they are far more advanced than us in that,”

King Bellmore said.

“All our males have to do is let their DNA be altered so they can bear a Tah’Narian a young,”

Counselor Volus snapped.

Jolak fought not to cringe. That was a very bald way of putting it, but the counselor was not incorrect. Males on their planet were not capable of giving birth like the Tah’Narians once had been.

So yes, any volunteer would have his body… changed. But this was something the Tah’Narians had been doing for a while now and had invested much time and resources to make it as safe as possible. Personally, it fascinated Jolak.

“That’s true. It’s why this will be volunteer only,”

King Bellmore said.

“So what you’re basically saying is that in return for selling our young men off to the Tah’Narians, we get technology,”

Counselor Volus argued.

Another counselor frowned at Volus.

Jolak wished somebody would sell off Counselor Volus.

“We are offering the Tah’Narians something, and in return they are giving us something,”

King Bellmore said. “No one is being sold or forced into this.”

“I am against this,”

Counselor Volus said.

And absolutely nobody was shocked by that. He had made that totally clear to everybody at the table.

“That is your right. It’s why we will take a vote. I would also like to add that the Tah’Narians are more than capable of just taking what they want. They have done so in the past. I suggest you keep that in mind,”

King Bellmore said. “Now. Let’s vote.”

One by one, each member cast their vote, King Bellmore and Jolak included. The room was silent except for the soft clinking of metal as signet rings struck the wooden surface of the table, signaling agreement or dissent according to how many times they were struck. As the last counselor placed a resounding thud against the wood—a sign of disapproval—the tallying began.

After a few moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, the head scribe stood, parchment in hand, his voice steady but low. “The votes have been cast—only one opposed.”

King Bellmore nodded solemnly. “The decision is made. We will proceed with negotiations with King Duran and the Tah’Narians. However, let it be known that we will approach this with caution. We will ensure that those who volunteer do so with full knowledge of what it entails.”

He paused to let his words sink in before continuing. “I will have overseers involved to ensure no coercion occurs. These volunteers will be treated with honor and respect.”

Jolak thought that was an excellent idea because once committed, this was not something a person could back out of.

As murmurs filled the room, King Bellmore raised his hand for silence. “We will negotiate for a trade agreement and an alliance also. I feel like we could profit greatly with both.”

Jolak’s mind was reeling as he absorbed the unexpected news. Was this then what had been preying on his father’s mind? An alliance with the Tah’Narian king? Jolak couldn’t deny the benefits of such an alliance, though.

The meeting adjourned with a mix of relief and residual tension. King Bellmore glanced briefly in Jolak’s direction before leaving without saying a word. Counselors gathered in small clusters, discussing the potential future and what it might hold.

Outside the council chamber, Jolak stood looking out at the kingdom through a windowpane. He stared out the window, rain pounding against the glass. His stomach churned with excitement and unease, creating a bitter concoction that threatened to rise up and choke him.

He knew what that look from his father meant. Who was a suitable mate for a king? A crown prince. And Jolak was a crown prince. He was the only one his father had to offer for an alliance. As a crown prince, he had always known that his future marriage would likely be arranged, but he never imagined it would be to a Tah’Narian.

His father’s ulterior motives were clear, and Jolak could feel the weight of his plotting pressing down on him like a heavy chain. Why hadn’t he been warned by his father about this too?

The Emperor of the Western Hemisphere was a constant pain in his father’s side—the small skirmishes, the theft of land, random killings, and so on. An alliance would certainly put a stop to that, especially if the Tah’Narian king was mated to Jolak.

Would King Duran even entertain the idea of taking a mate?

But once Jolak’s father had the idea in his head, there was no stopping it. All Jolak could do was prepare. Prepare for change, prepare for an outcome, and more importantly, prepare those chosen to embark on this uncertain journey—himself too possibly.

THE FOLLOWING days were a flurry of activities. As negotiations with the Tah’Narians began, advisors and diplomats beamed back and forth between the palaces, carrying proposals and treaties.

The castle buzzed with an undercurrent of anticipation mixed with apprehension. King Bellmore, who had always been a decisive man, now seemed to carry an even heavier burden. At least, that was the feeling Jolak got.

Jolak found himself involved in briefings that lasted hours, where strategies were discussed on how best to integrate the technology from the Tah’Narians with their own.

The promise of advanced healing devices, energy sources, and agricultural systems could revolutionize their way of life, but at the heart of it all lay the delicate matter of the volunteers—how to ensure their welfare and uphold the kingdom’s honor.

Amidst these pivotal discussions, King Bellmore finally broached the topic Jolak had been waiting for.

“Jolak,”

his father began, his voice low and fraught. “It is time to discuss the possibility of alliance with the Tah’Narians that I hinted about earlier. You know why this alliance is crucial. We are not just negotiating for technology—we are securing our future against potential threats. Your role in this could be pivotal.”

Jolak met his father’s gaze, his own heart hammering with a mix of duty and dread. He knew it had been coming, but it was still a shock. “Are you suggesting—”

“Yes,”

King Bellmore interjected softly. “An alliance through a mating. It would solidify our relations more deeply than any treaty.”

The room fell silent as Jolak absorbed his father’s words. Mated—to a Tah’Narian? It was one thing to support an alliance. It was another to bind himself in such an intimate way to an alien culture. Yet, he knew too well that princes were pawns in the games of kings and councils.

“I understand my duty,”

Jolak finally said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “I will consider all options for the good of our kingdom.” Like the outcome could be anything but what his father wanted.

King Bellmore nodded, relief momentarily softening his weathered face. “I knew I could count on you.”

AFTER THE meeting, Jolak wandered, his thoughts whirling. The corridors of the palace were eerily silent, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. He found himself back in the council chamber.

As he entered, he noticed it was mostly empty, save for a few servants who were clearing away the remnants of the meeting. He approached one of the ancient tapestries hanging on the wall, its threads depicting legends of old alliances and betrayals. Tradition weighed heavily on him.

He knew what was required of him, but still. He’d like to talk to someone he trusted. In that moment, he decided to seek the counsel of Elder Marinth, a retired counselor known for her wisdom and her unconventional approach to politics.

She had been a trusted advisor to his grandfather. She was a very prominent part of Jolak’s childhood and seemed to have a soft spot for him. If anyone could offer guidance without judgment, it was she.

Leaving the chamber, he ordered his horse to be prepared and quietly left the palace grounds without notifying his father. The ride through the wooded path was brisk, helping clear his mind and steel his resolve for whatever advice Marinth might offer.

Arriving at her modest dwelling, Jolak dismounted with a sense of urgency. The door creaked open almost immediately, as if Marinth had been expecting him.

“Prince Jolak,”

she greeted him with a knowing smile. “It seems you carry the weight of the realm on your shoulders tonight.”

Jolak could only nod as he stepped inside, welcomed by the warmth of a crackling fire. Marinth motioned for him to sit while she poured two cups of steaming tea. How did she know he was coming? Did she have the sight? Sometimes he wondered.

“I know why you’re here,”

she began, handing him a cup. “The alliance with the Tah’Narians troubles you.”

He should not have been surprised, but nevertheless, he was. She seemed to know everything. “Yes,”

Jolak admitted. “I fear what it means for me personally, but not so much for our kingdom.”

Marinth sipped her tea thoughtfully before speaking. “Alliances are like swords—they can defend, or they can cut. But remember, even a sword is directed by the hand that wields it.”

Jolak pondered her words, finding truth in them. “But what if I am to be the blade itself? My father considers offering me as mate to King Duran.”

Marinth’s eyes sharpened with understanding. “Then you must decide whether you will be sharp and cutting or strong and protective.”

She paused, setting down her cup. “Consider this: Being King Duran’s mate could afford you unique opportunities—to influence not just one kingdom but two.”

“I don’t know how much influence I would have in this kingdom if I am King Duran’s mate. I was never meant to rule. That will be my older brother.”

“True, but don’t discount your influence here. The people love you. Your brother listens to you.”

“But am I prepared? Is this what I want?”

Jolak asked. “Do I even have a choice?”

“Royalty often does not, child. You may not have chosen this path, but you can choose how you walk it,”

Marinth said softly.

Empowered by Marinth’s wisdom, Jolak thanked her for her counsel and left much as he had arrived—under cover of nightfall. As he rode back towards the palace, under a tapestry of stars now breaking through the haze of evening clouds, Jolak’s thoughts raced.

His heart carried a new spark—a flame kindled by Marinth’s words. He was a prince, yes, chained by duty and birthright, but he was also his own person, capable of steering his destiny, even if he was unable to escape it.

The return journey felt shorter than it had going. As the palace came into view, its spires reaching towards the starry sky as if in silent prayer for guidance, resolve settled over him.

He would meet with his father tomorrow and express his concerns honestly. He would also insist on meeting King Duran personally before any agreement could be finalized. If he was to be a bridge between two kingdoms, he wanted to know the foundation upon which he would stand.

That was reasonable, wasn’t it?

Upon reaching the stables, Jolak dismounted and handed his horse off to the waiting groom. His mind was no longer swirling with confusion. Instead, it was sharpened like the blade Marinth had spoken of. He strode into the palace not as a pawn but as a prince with a voice.

AT DAWN, before the court gathered, Jolak requested a private audience with his father. Shelves lined with ancient texts and artifacts collected from across their lands graced King Bellmore’s study—a fitting backdrop for discussions that shaped nations.

Jolak stood tall and sure before his king’s massive desk. “I have given great thought to your plan with the Tah’Narians.”

King Bellmore looked up from his papers, eyeing Jolak with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “And what are your thoughts?”

“I believe an alliance could be our path to the end of harassment,”

Jolak conceded. “But I must meet King Duran myself. I need to understand who he is—what drives him as a leader and as a man. If I am to ally myself so closely with him, it should be as partners, not merely as pieces in a diplomatic game.”

The king studied Jolak for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Very well,”

he said at last. “I shall arrange a meeting. We shall see if King Duran is willing and if he is worthy of our trust—and of you.”

Relief mixed with anticipation coursed through Jolak’s veins as he bowed respectfully. This meeting could change everything. It might forge a mighty alliance or reveal insurmountable differences.

But Jolak was ready to face either outcome. He spent the following days gathering as much information as possible about King Duran and his kingdom. Histories were studied, emissaries questioned, and old treaties reviewed. Jolak knew that knowledge would be his shield in the upcoming encounter.

IN THE weeks that followed, Jolak threw himself into understanding Tah’Narian culture, just in case. He learned their customs and studied their political structure and power dynamics. If he was to be a bridge between two worlds, he would be a well-prepared one.

And even if he was not to be, the knowledge certainly couldn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, volunteers were carefully selected—a group composed entirely of individuals who understood the magnitude of their decision. Jolak spent time with them, sharing meals and listening to their hopes and fears.

These males were not just part of a diplomatic strategy. They were individuals with dreams and desires, stepping into history with courage that Jolak admired profoundly.

And word finally came from Tah’Nar too. King Duran was interested.