Chapter One

Prince Jago

Two months earlier

“Don’t worry, Jago,” Prince Rakkur said, glancing over at me as I nervously paced back and forth across the room, my sapphire blue robes swirling around my ankles. “I’m sure Tariq will be here soon. He may even be docking the ship now and will be coming through those doors any minute.”

“Should I go down and be ready to get onboard the other ship as soon as they arrive?”

He smiled and shook his head, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t worry so much. They won’t leave without you, that’s for sure.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You’ll be there when you get there.”

I frowned. "I’ve never understood that saying—it sounds like something my omak would say. I mean, obviously , I’ll be there when I’m there. What does that even mean?”

“It means they’ll wait for you,” Rakkur said, smiling at me.

My omak was his older brother, Anarr, so the two of them had been raised by the same man, who just so happened to be a human named Blake and the author of those kinds of sayings. Or at least he was a serial repeater of them. He was the king’s consort and just full of old human sayings. This dubious pronouncement had no doubt come from him too.

“You outrank the captain and his crew,” he continued, “and not the other way around. You’re a royal, after all—the son of a prince and the grandson of a king. They’ll wait.”

“That sounds a little pompous to me.”

“Oh gods, I can just imagine Blake’s face if he heard you say that.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Blake is the best, but I wasn’t raised the same as you, uncle. My father hates the idea of pulling rank on people.”

“ Who does? Anarr? My brother, Anarr ? That sounds absolutely nothing like him.”

“No, not him. The General.”

“Oh really? General Renard Ballenescu? Is that why he asks everyone to call him just ‘the General’ since he took that position as a co-commandant of Earth, along with Anarr. He uses that title instead of his given name now, right? Because he so hates using his position and throwing his rank and title around.” Rakkur laughed out loud again, and the sound must have been contagious, because I smiled too.

“He didn’t do that, really, though Blake likes to tell that story.”

“No, I get it,” Rakkur said. “You were mostly raised onboard a Voyager ship by your parents, and not in the king’s palace like I was. I learned about royal privilege early on at Blake’s knee, and so did Anarr, for that matter. I guess Renard is just now discovering it.” He shifted uneasily in his chair, rubbing a hand across his swollen stomach. “Wow. The baby’s restless this morning. It feels like he’s trying to kick his way out of there.”

“That can’t happen though, right?”

“Gods, I hope not,” he replied, snorting a little. Since Tariq and Rakkur got married, Rakkur seemed to be happy, and he laughed often. Even in a family like ours, renowned for its many “love matches,” his and Tariq’s had been a unique story. Colonel Tariq, an elite Imperial Guard, had accidentally imprinted on Rakkur while my uncle was still way too young for a romance with a grown man—he was just fifteen or so, and much too young to marry.

Tariq had left the planet and served far away for a long time and did everything he could to avoid his fate. Not that he hadn’t been totally in love with Rakkur the whole time, but Tariq had considered himself entirely unsuitable for the prince and had nobly done his best to distance himself from him, hoping the feelings would somehow go away.

Indeed, they’d only become stronger, and years later, they were thrown together again and wound up married. Rakkur was expecting Tariq’s child. His health had been a bit precarious for the first months of pregnancy—high blood pressure the doctors couldn’t seem to get low enough to suit them, and he hadn’t been allowed to travel back to Tygeria. Now, with a little over a month to go, he was recovering nicely and traveling home to have the baby there on Tygeria with the best physicians available.

As for me, I had been asked to keep him company on this ship until we got out of the “danger zone,” an area of space about two days out from Loros where there had been frequent attacks on Axis ships by the so-called Roth pirates, who the officials now thought were actually the Pton in disguise.

There had been some disturbing rumors about the Pton that had been filtering in after an attack on a settlement on one of the moons of a planet called Scullar, in the far northwest quadrant. According to witnesses there, some of the Pton soldiers who had attacked the settlement looked different than the regular soldiers we’d already seen. These men—who seemed to be the officers in charge—were taller and built on heavier frames. But that wasn’t the really frightening part.

People called them unnaturally handsome, and they said that parts of their skin were covered in scales of various colors—like red, blue and green. Witnesses said it wasn’t a lot of scales, but enough to make them appear very otherworldly, and strange, which of course, they undoubtedly were. The word “demonic” was thrown around a lot too. Because of their horns—elaborate, frightening horns, growing right out of their foreheads and curving back over their heads. The king had called it hysteria and dismissed it out of hand as just people’s vivid imaginations.

The demonic part, anyway. There were many different species in the known, habitable planets, with all kinds of characteristics. Tygerians, for example, had tiger stripes under the skin, so as Blake would say, people who lived in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

“What do you think of all the rumors, Rakkur? Do you believe what they say about the new Pton soldiers?”

“I think it must be people’s imaginations running away with them, like my father says. How could they be demons or devils, anyway? It’s not like we have a common religion.”

That was true enough, yet most all the old religions had some kind of devil-like figures in them. All the ones I knew of anyway. Devils in all the religions were evil creatures, liars and promoters of sin. They were a metaphor for everything bad.

But just like I didn’t believe in the gods, I didn’t really believe in demons or devils either. I wasn’t scared of them at least. In fact, I’d love to see one. Blake said that was part of my problem—I was fatally attracted to bad boys. Actually, I was a bad boy myself, according to him, and I was being sent home now because of it.

Six months earlier, my parents had informed me that they had made a match for me with a young Lycan who came from a wealthy family on the primary planet, Lycanus 1, though he was now serving as my father’s aide on Earth. His name was Alexsandr Cobescu, and he was a nice enough person, but I found him boring in the extreme. I had lived my whole life mostly onboard a Voyager ship, traveling through the cosmos, while he had stayed on Lycanus and gone to school and taken up employment in the boring old government as soon as he was old enough.

That wasn’t his fault, I guess, but we had very little in common. He was well-educated, ambitious and serious-minded. Everything I wasn’t. And as a result, we had little to say to each other.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He was handsome and like I said, nice enough, if a trifle overbearing. He had a tendency to explain things to me like I was a child. That was the way of all Lycans, but there was something much worse. He made me feel…well, nothing at all, romantically speaking. There was no attraction, no appeal, no spark. And though my omak was inclined to sympathize, my father, the General, thought I was being foolishly sentimental, and I would “come to have regard” for him in time.

But I didn’t just want to only “have regard.” I wanted a wild and crazy love, like the one my parents had been lucky enough to have. Something overpowering and overwhelming that would sweep me off my feet. I wanted a love match—the kind where you felt like you couldn’t breathe without them, like you’d die if you couldn’t have them, and you would do anything, say anything, sacrifice anything, just to be in their presence. I wanted that kind of love. I wanted adventure and romance.

And then there was me and Alexsandr.

“He’ll give you a good, safe life,” my father told me. “If you’ll only stop acting like you’re the hero of some silly romance novel. That kind of reading has given you false expectations,” he said, with the supreme confidence and abundant ignorance of a man who’d never read a romance novel before in his life.

“You need to grow up,” he went on… and on , “and stop acting like a spoiled child.”

He blamed Blake for most of it and said he regretted letting me spend so much time with him when I was small, while he and my omak were off traveling. He said he was the one who let me read the poetry books and romance novels that he claimed had “rotted” my brain.

Blake and Renard had gotten off on the wrong foot when they first met, and they never truly got over it. Both were far too stubborn.

Anyway, it was shortly after that tirade that I ran away for the first time. I made it to Blake’s and King Davos’s palace by hitching a ride with a Nilanium trader, hoping I could find refuge there, but my parents followed me and made me come back home. The king, though sympathetic, refused to get between Renard and me and told me I needed to do as my father said, because I was far too young to make my own decisions about my life.

The next time I tried running away, which had been just a little over a month ago, I went right back to Tygeria, but this time I stowed away on a transport taking armament to Loros, where my cousin Mikol was living with his new mate. The captain found me after a few days, but I used my royal status to bully him into taking me all the way to Loros. It was glorious, as long as it lasted, and it was the adventure I longed for. I had decided when I was a small child that I wanted to live a life full of unexpected undertakings and risky exploits, and I would settle for nothing less.

I wanted to live among the stars and see things I’d never seen before. I wanted to do amazing things with my life. Was that really so much to ask?

The General was livid with anger when he finally found out where I had been this last time and had Mikol put me on the next available ship going back to Earth where he and my father Anarr were now living. Mikol had sent me to accompany Rakkur until we no longer needed the escort and then after Tariq came onboard, I’d transfer to the other ship, and we’d head toward Earth.

Now here I was, back in the hated sapphire robes, like all the royal children and consorts were made to wear, onboard this Tygerian ship and being sent to my parents in disgrace to “face the music.” That’s what Blake told me anyway, when we last spoke.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I’ve done all I can, and it’s out of my hands now. You know how Renard gets. He’s picked out what he considers to be the perfect man for you to marry, and he’s incensed that you ran away from him and rejected his idea of the right choice. He’s threatened to come and drag you home himself if you don’t accompany Rakkur.”

“What does my omak say about it?”

Blake sighed. “You know Anarr won’t say much against Renard. But I know he won’t force you into this marriage if he’s convinced that you truly object. He thinks you should give this man a chance, though. That comes mostly from Renard, of course. We were all worried sick when you ran away like you did, and no one could find you at first until we heard you were on the ship to Loros.”

“I didn’t run away . I’m a grown man—almost twenty-one now and I’m of age—and I decided to book passage to Loros to go see my cousin Mikol.”

“Mm-hmm. You’re twenty-one in Lycan years, which is only twenty in human years. And you didn’t book passage at all, did you? You stowed away until someone on the crew of the ship found you. I think your fiancé saw the situation differently too. He told Renard he wasn’t going to put up with such foolishness, and he would ‘discipline’ you when you got back.”

“That fucking Lycan is not my fiancé. And if he lays one hand on me, I’ll-I’ll stab him with one of my daggers. I never agreed to his proposal, and I never will. He can kiss my…”

“This is an open channel, baby. Be careful what you say. You can’t just go around stabbing people and telling them to kiss your nether regions. That’s your Jayronian side coming through.”

True enough. My surrogate mother had been a Jayronian, and they were not known for either their good judgment or their patience. But then neither was Blake, and I was descended directly from him too.

I made a gagging noise and he just laughed. At least I knew he’d be on my side if the General decided to continue to be completely unreasonable about all of this. I said as much to Rakkur, who took my hand in his.

“I’m on your side too. I think Renard is forgetting how much he tried to get out of marrying my brother Anarr when they first met. It didn’t work, though, and he only pretended to be unhappy about it, so he’s being a big hypocrite right now. When Anarr was in that coma years ago before you were born, everyone thought Renard might die himself. You’re young and you’ll have many choices to marry. I always thought you were the most beautiful of all the grandchildren—though all of them are handsome, naturally. I think it’s because of your Jayronian surrogate, and the fact you received so much of her DNA. I think in your case, it might have been a little more than half, because of your hair, for example, which is just gorgeous.”

I shrugged. That’s what most people noticed about me first. My hair was navy-blue, down to my waist and as straight as a stick, like so many of the Jayronians. It looked almost like silk when I wore it down on my shoulders, which I hated, because it was also feminine looking, and I lived in the hyper masculine world of the Tygerians and the Lycans. I usually wore it wound tightly in a knot at the back of my head, because Jagger Balenescu, also a Jayronian and a grandfather on the General’s side, (I’d been named after him too) had begged me not to cut it off. Otherwise, it would have been long gone.

My eyes, at least, were amber, like the Tygerian side of my family, and I had a faint hint of striping across my cheeks. It made me look exotic and different, which was never a good thing, in my opinion. I’d learned at an early age it was better not to draw too much attention to myself if I could help it, because that kind of attention brought unwanted attention from the big, overgrown males of Lycanus and Tygeria. It didn’t help that I had to wear the Tygerian royal robes, but I’d been informed that the uniforms were intended only for members of the army.

I had a slight build, and none of Anarr’s height. My uncle Rakkur surely knew only too well how that felt, being so small around all those Tygerians, as he looked far more human than Tygerian. He was almost the same age as I was too. He was lucky though, because he had Tariq now and he could stop worrying about fending off unwanted suitors. He had Tariq to keep them away.

I’d wanted to join the army when I was small. It had always been my dream to travel among the stars, wearing the insignia of the king, and having adventures that I could look back on one day in the far distant future, when I was an old, old man, telling stories to my grandchildren.

But the General said I was too small and slight. I wasn’t “suited” for combat, and I could be hurt. Instead, I should find a good husband who would care for me and make sure I was always safe. I knew he loved me and was trying to protect me. But I felt like he was suffocating me.

“Come on,” Rakkur said, taking my hand. “I’m hungry. Let’s go down to the dining hall and get some lunch. You’ll feel better, and by the time we’ve eaten, we should be in safer territory. Tariq should definitely be arriving.”

Tariq and an extra contingent of Imperial Guards had been following us at a slight distance in a ship designated as a small Battle Cruiser escort ever since we left Loros. Traditionally, the larger Battle Rigs were much heavier ships so a variety of modules could be mounted to serve various battle purposes, such as bigger guns, larger transport bays and crew hubs.

The Cruiser was a new model. Smaller than a Battle Rig and larger and more mobile than a shuttle which was usually tied to its mother ship, the Cruiser was a medium sized craft that was considered to be a lethal force against our enemies, the Pton. It was both fast and deadly, and as soon as we left this so-called “danger zone,” which should be sometime later that morning, Tariq would be joining Rakkur onboard the Cruiser for the rest of the journey to Tygeria.

Rakkur levered himself off the chair with some difficulty, and we went down the corridor to find something to eat. He’d told me he’d been starving since around the midpoint of this pregnancy, and Tariq had made sure before we left Loros that the cooks onboard had stocked his favorite foods.

I had just finished a delicious bowl of vegetable soup, one of those favorites of Rakkur’s, when a sudden jolt and a loud scraping sound almost knocked me off my chair. I looked up in alarm at Rakkur, and then rushed around to his side to take hold of his arm.

“Come on. We have to get to a lower deck in case we have to evacuate.” I knew immediately what must be happening, though I didn’t want to alarm him.

“What? Evacuate? But what do you think’s happening?”

“I believe we’re under attack.”

“But where’s Tariq and our escort? Who could be attacking? The pirates? The Pton? Tariq’s ship is supposed to be protecting us.”

“I know. I don’t know what’s happened, but we can’t wait around to find out or debate it now. Let’s get down to the shuttles in case we have to abandon ship.”

I was impressed at how calmly he seemed to be taking this after that initial exclamation of alarm. I clutched his arm as the ship began lurching drunkenly to one side and the horribly loud scraping, grinding sound started up again, sounding like the whole ship was coming apart. We slid off our feet and careened across the polished floor, crashing into the opposite wall. It sounded like a fierce attack was taking place above us now and a little like the end of the world.

I helped Rakkur struggle back to his feet as soon as the ship stopped see-sawing around. Holding onto his arm, I pulled him up the sharply slanted floor to the hatch, and we began to make our way toward the ladders that would lead to the lower decks, though both our instincts and everything inside us was urging us to head in the opposite direction to face the enemy and try and fight until the end. It was what we’d been taught all our lives, but we had Rakkur’s child to think of and smoke was already swirling down from the upper decks. I feared the worst.

A loud alarm began blaring and a Tygerian voice over the intercom began shouting instructions to “abandon ship, abandon ship.” It was terrifying.

We headed for the shuttle bay. Since the Imperial ship had to be right behind us, I told myself we’d be assured of being picked up right away. If we could just get on board a shuttle and make it off this one.

“Your Highnesses, you have to evacuate now!” a member of the crew yelled at us as he passed me and Rakkur in the passageway, along with others who were struggling toward the shuttle bay. “Move to a lower deck and find a shuttle quickly. The ship is going down!”

“What does he think we’re doing?” I muttered viciously, and Rakkur laughed.

“He’s scared, I imagine. And I know the feeling. Oh Jago, what if they capture us and take us hostage? My poor baby.”

“Stop worrying. I’ll find a way out of this for you. I promise.”

I squeezed his hand and though he tried to keep up with me, he was falling farther behind and holding us both up.

“Go ahead without me,” he shouted at me, but I grimly shook my head. Was he crazy? I’d never leave him behind.

The ship was listing at an even steeper angle now, and I feared the crew member had been right. This was the end for this ship, and it wouldn’t take much longer. I spared a quick glance at Rakkur and saw his lips moving silently. I knew he was praying to his gods, because he was frantic about Tariq’s and the baby’s safety.

“Come on, Rakkur,” I said, giving him a fierce grin. “We got this. When we get to the shuttle, I call dibs on pilot.”

I was using our family slang, which was our own special language in a lot of ways, as all of Blake’s descendants slipped into it easily. We’d heard it all our lives. I gripped his hand and helped him down the ladder as best I could.

I could hear the noises coming down from the upper decks, and it sounded like a fierce battle was going on right above us, with the whining sounds of disruptors firing and the acrid smell of smoke and the sharp cries of men in pain. Then suddenly, the battle raging on the upper decks spilled down to where we were. Tall, pale men with wild, black hair swarmed into the passageway, dressed in brightly colored clothing, with strips of cloth wrapped around their foreheads like headbands. I feared the worst. I thought they must be the dreaded Pton. They looked unlike any Nilaniums or Drex pirates I’d ever seen, and I could see why so many of the officers I’d spoken to had speculated that Roth could actually be Pton soldiers in disguise as a kind of front guard to scope out our vulnerabilities and strengths before the coming invasion.

I pulled Rakkur into my arms, with his big belly between us and whispered in his ear. “Hang onto me, whatever you do and stay close. We can’t be separated!”

Then our attackers swarmed over us, pulling us back up the ladder and pushing us roughly to the floor. I turned at the last second and took the brunt of the fall. All I could do was cling tightly to Rakkur and hope for the best.

The one who was shouting the loudest in some unknown language pointed at us as we were hauled to our feet.

“These are the ones we came for.” At least that’s what I thought he said. The tall alien wasn’t speaking any language I’d ever heard, but I was trying to read his body language and the fact that he’d come over to us the second he saw us. He turned to us directly then and spoke in really bad Tygerian.

“We take you to ship,” he told us in a heavily accented voice. “No resist and you no hurt.”

He bent over and put his shoulder in my stomach, yanking me off my feet. He was much bigger, and it seemed effortless. Beside me, Rakkur was getting the same treatment, though he was fighting them like one of the wild cats of Lycanus 2. I called out to him to tell him to stop, but I don’t think he heard me. I heard the sound of a slap and he cried out once and then went limp and silent. I was scared to death for him.

I prayed to all the gods I knew to keep us safe. Even if I didn’t believe in them, maybe they believed in me.