Chapter 9

Talia

Voices seemed to bounce off of every available surface in the dining hall. The cacophony of it was overwhelming but Talia didn't know where else to go. After Jules presumed to preemptively alter Talia's marriage contract to favor Xiridian IV and Chancellor Abernath's needs, she couldn't tolerate her presence anymore.

She first escaped to the women's parlor to get away from Jules, but when she got there, the dreary atmosphere had transformed into chitter-chatter and giggles. The women were gushing over who was who and which men they wished to pursue most. Both the crying girl and Princess Aloeyse were gone, and the ones who remained were acting like fawning teenagers, except that tonight's decisions were life-altering and Talia couldn't partake in the girlish revelry. It was, well, like Ambassador Montclair said, it was just all so extreme.

As much as Talia hated to admit it, Jules raised legitimate concerns over Montlcair's planet. While she would love to take a chance with Montlcair, Dawn's needs outweighed her own desires. No one knew anything about the ambassador. He had no known verifiable reputation and could be deceiving them all. Just because he felt comfortable and familiar to her didn't mean he was sincere. Jumping in blindly would be reckless.

She needed to distance herself from him, Talia thought as she ran her hand over the path his had carved around her waist during their dance together. When she closed her eyes, she imagined that she could still feel the comforting weight of his touch. It had to be delirium from exhaustion and the pressure she was under.

When he'd found her in the middle of the ballroom, her heart had skipped a beat, as if seeing a loved one for the first time in ages. It felt instinctual to move into his arms. Then, standing there at his full height, combined with his stature and the absent-minded way he tilted his head before speaking, for a split second, she could've sworn that she was looking at her Ryker. When they danced and he pulled her close, she could smell Ryker on him.

She thought he'd finally come to save her.

Ryker, that is. Not Thorne, and she couldn't put that sort of expectation on Ambassador Montclair. He was not her long-lost soul mate, and he was not her daughter's father finally come home. He was a means to an end and by all accounts, as so graciously outlined by Jules, he wasn't the right choice. Even if her gut was screaming otherwise.

She had hoped that their talk in the corridor earlier would help shine some illumination onto his mysterious planet, X-Terra Lyra, but they never made it to that topic. That didn't sit well with Talia. It suggested that maybe there wasn't much to talk about, which was another unfortunate win for Jules.

Oh, but he was so charming and easy to talk to.

Talia's eyes fell to the table. A fresh salad and a bowl of golden orange bisque stared back at her. The warm, creamy soup smelled of rich seafood and lavish, expensive spices. But she couldn't take a single sip.

Charm and conversation aren't enough to stake Dawn's future on.

Talia wished that it was. There was an undeniable chemistry between Talia and Ambassador Montclair, but New Horizon's council didn't send her here to heal her aching heart. This was about the colony's future.

"My little star bird." The familiar voice made her cringe. Chancellor Abernath settled into the seat across from her. His timing was disgustingly on point. "You've barely touched your food. Is it bad?"

"I'm sure it's fine." She spoke low, too overwhelmed to fight the noise of the crowd.

"Don't worry yourself sick, Talia. You have a home with me, even if I'm not as handsome or as young as that ambassador. I can take care of you better."

"Stop, Ysander. I am tired." She'd never addressed him solely by his first name before, but it was well past the time to cut the pleasantries. "My husband is dead, my daughter sits in stasis waiting on a planet that may never come, and all I'm doing here is running in circles not knowing what to do. Please, don't ask me to marry you tonight."

Even if he might be the best fit because, no, she'd vomit if she had to marry the man who'd preyed upon both her and her mother when they were at their lowest.

If he asked Talia tonight, though, she'd be cornered.

He reached across the table and brushed his fingers over hers. "You don't have to decide tonight."

She snatched her hand into her lap. "Please set your sights on another woman. The only thing you like about me is that I look like my mother."

With that, she stood to leave, but he grabbed her wrist from across the table to stop her.

"Is that what you believe?"

She yanked free and fled to the safety of the corridors. She'd keep moving, avoiding the ladies' parlor, Jules, and Montclair.

Heavy footsteps came up quickly behind her, then Abernath rounded her side, and they were face to face. His icy eyes bore into hers. Talia took a step back. He pressed forward, watching with the sharp angled look of a predator until he had her backed against the corridor wall.

"My family has been connected with yours for centuries, long before your mother or I were ever born. Our mothers were like sisters, did you know that?"

Talia shook her head, glancing around for an exit. He took her chin in his hand and in a firm yet gentle movement, redirected her gaze back to his.

"I only wanted to save your mother. Not because I was in love with her, but simply because I loved her. She was falling apart and I couldn't bear to watch." His eyes dropped and his grip loosened. "I didn't know what else to do."

He waited for some sort of response from her, but Talia didn't know what to say. She didn't want to say anything. So she looked at him instead, studying the sharp angle of his well-groomed stubble and the way it perfectly contoured around his strong jawline. He clenched his teeth and his neck bobbed with the movement.

"W-what about me?"

"You?" He lifted his head wrapped one of her loose curls around his finger. "Oh, Talia, you . . ."

Ten years ago she would've called him old, in the way a child thinks that their parents are old. As she aged, though, so did her perspective on what "old" was and now, a decade later, their twenty-year difference seemed like less of a stretch. If she could learn to stomach a life by the man's side, then she could give Dawn the best shot at life.

His eyes caught hers again. He tilted his head and moved in for a kiss.

"No," she whispered, then ducked under his arm and ran away.

As she turned a corner, searching for the gardens, she saw him. Montclair.

"Ambassador," she had to address him. It'd be rude not to.

"Chancellor. You've come to find me again?" he asked with a lighthearted tone and Ryker's handsome half-smile.

Talia's chest ached.

"No, I've come to find the gardens. I hope to see you again in the ballroom, though," she said as she continued on her way.

Footsteps followed behind her. Again.

Talia took a deep breath, anticipating what this man would say after he'd caught up with her.

"I really do need to speak with you privately," he called from behind her.

She walked faster. He matched her pace.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Away."

"Why?"

"Because I miss him."

"Who?"

"My husband."

"Is he dead?"

"Yes. It'll be six years soon." She stopped and turned to face him. "Haven't you read my profile on the dossier?" This whole time, Talia had been making excuses for Montclair to Jules, and he hadn't even glanced at her biography.

"I was late registering. Everything was kind of a blur and there wasn't much time for that." She would've been glad if he stopped there, but he continued his questioning. "Standard practice is to wait ten years before presuming death. Is there a reason New Horizon rushed the process?"

"We didn't have time. We needed to face reality, to make decisions and survive."

Talia paused for a moment to shut her eyes and rub the tension from the back of her neck. Then, she continued down the corridor. She needed to touch something green, something meant for sunlight to reminder her what she was fighting for.

"And you decided for Orion's Masquerade?" he persisted.

"No. They decided."

Finally, a relieving burst of cold air met her burning skin. She'd found the gardens and entered into a room full of greenery where misters hissed quietly in the background. She ran her hand through one, collecting the beads of chilled water on her palm then wiping them across the back of her neck. She ran a fingertip over the thorns of a thick, full vine hanging low from where it grew along the ceiling, wondering how much pressure it would take to draw blood. Beautiful purple flowers bloomed all over the vine, but she didn't think she'd be permitted to pluck one.

She remembered conversations with people who'd lived their entire lives planetside. The way they'd describe staring up at the stars and vastness of space.

Talia forgot about the man following her, consumed with exploring the luscious garden, touching and smelling as many plants as she could.

"Who?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder with absent eyes. "Hm?"

"You said they decided for Orion's Masquerade. Who?"

"New Horizon's council. My vice-chancellor presented the idea and they took a vote."

The man in the wolf mask stalked briskly toward her. There was a sharpness in his movement that set her nerves on high alert. A woman alone in a garden with a man she'd just met, one who hadn't even been on the dossier? Jules had warned her against him.

Suddenly, she felt foolish.

Finally, when he was an arm's length away, he stopped. She darted for the arched entrance which would release her back into the corridors. He got there first and blocked her exit. He opened his mouth with a huff, as if to say something, but no words came. His dark eyes scanned her face.

After another beat of tense silence, the orchestra began again, and he stepped aside to let her pass.