Page 145 of Crown Prince's Mate

When I leave it, I’ll be bound to the triad—by law, not in the way they want it. My heart skips a beat as the triad of Elites, their Orb-Armor glowing, form an honor guard around me and lead me to a huge stone door. They open it and stand aside.

From here on, it’ll just be me.

My heels click against the polished stone, echoing in the hallways of the coliseum. The air is cool here, ancient, and I follow the path of thousands of duelists, preparing themselves to kill or die in the pure white sand. My dress flows, the strands alive as I move like I am in a dream towards my triad, the mutedsound of the crowds growing larger. When I first felt them in my mind, their dominance terrified me. They owned me, their auras flowing over my being, marking me as theirs. There was no escape, no matter how I writhed and wriggled.

I would never have wed them. They would have had to put me in chains, captors carrying me to my destiny.

The tunnel opens into the Arena of the Gods. The sands glow blindingly in the bright sunlight, pure and pristine, as if they have not drunk the blood of thousands of warriors.

Now, I walk alone, by my own choice, towards the triad who would die for me, who would do anything to keep me safe. I hold my head high as I walk under the portcullis gate and onto the carpet, which solidifies under my steps, giving me a stable surface on the hungry sands. The crowd is packed in tight, and the thousands of eyes on me are nothing compared to the trillions witnessing this moment on holo-vid.

Is Obsidian himself watching this moment, staring with black eyes that brim with hate? If he did, he would never guess that the people he loathes are working behind the scenes to do what he cannot. He would bite back his hate and kiss the sands at my feet if he knew.

Now is the moment of truth.

Either we get Fay out, or we’re discovered, and she’s locked up tighter, and she and her son will never see the light again.

With me along with her.

Not even Doman could shield me from his parents’ wrath. No diplomatic immunity can save me from the rest of my life in the a cell.

I walk over the carpet strewn with red and golden flowers matching the ones in my hair towards the raised pedestal where my men stand. They are clad in formal robes, pure white with golden accents, togas cut to show off the left sides oftheir muscled chests. Titus’ glittering chain gleams and sparkles under the light.

The three men flicker into the shadows whenever Reavers cut overhead, blocking the sun for an instant. Doman’s blue eyes never leave me as I approach him, and the slightest smile appears on his lips. His golden mane matches his crown. Gallien, his features sharp like a patrician, the gold crown against his short platinum hair, is the only one without a hint of a grin. He just watches me as if this moment was inevitable, and I know he imagined it a thousand times before, that ever since he felt the Bondthrumand knew we were linked that every action he took was designed to lead us together.

Beside them stand the human officiant and the ancient Aurelian who is master of ceremonial duties. The Aurelian has a face lined with wrinkles. He last visited Pentaris over two hundred years ago when Queen Jasmine ascended to the throne, a visit where he gifted each planet lavishly. Next to him, looking small as the only human dwarfed by the alien species, is Master Barker, the rather vain Human Federation minister of international affairs who makes yearly trips to Pentaris. He sports a white goatee, and his clever brown eyes shift from person to person.

They fade into the background along with the hushed crowd, the only sound the faint hum of Reavers overhead and the drones which transmit the occasion by holo-vid to the universe. The only thing that feels real is my triad, and they stand still, like statues of Gods come alive.

Master Barker has a small purple pillow upon which four rings gleam.

It won’t be the moment that I put those rings on their fingers that links us together, but the moment when I finally rip the blue-black rings off and surrender completely, when they Bond me to them. As I stare up at them, my legs moving as if theyhave a mind of their own, my heart starts to pound quicker, not in anticipation of the marriage, but at the thread of inevitability that is growing deep inside me. They’ve waited for me. They’ve fought for me.

They’ve gone against their own Empire and risked everything for my conscience and theirs.

I step up the stairs, and then they are towering over me, the three men who threw my life into chaos, the three men who are the only solid ground in a shifting universe.

The moment I walk up the stairs, Master Barker steps forward, puffing up like a bird with the knowledge of trillions of eyes on him. There should have been an officiant from Pentaris presiding, but I gave the position to him instead, knowing that his pride would be stoked and it could lead to future favors in the constant negotiations between my people and his. Even in moments like this, there is always a play to be made, a favor to be given, an angle to find that helps the interests of the Pentaris alliance in the great game of interstellar power.

“A momentous occasion,” he starts. “It seems like just yesterday I was wedding the prince Bruton to his Mate. In the great legends and myths of the Aurelian Empire, none are more poignant than the stories of triads who wed a woman not bound to them by Fate, but of their own choice.”

I give him a look he knows only too well, one that I’ve withered him with on the diplomatic missions when I can sense a lengthy speech coming. He clears his throat in response. “Yes, well, this moment marks a great union between two trusted allies of the Human Federation, Adriana Hart of Pentaris, the Prime Minister herself, and the royal Crown Prince Doman and his triad.”

I saw footage of the wedding of Bruton’s triad to Evelyn, where Master Barker barely let the Aurelian master of ceremonial affairs get a word in. This time, the ancient Aurelianbrought a scepter, which he bangs on the ground sternly, quieting the human. The wrinkled Aurelian starts speaking in the lilting tongue of High Aurelian before Master Barker can further pontificate.

“Prime Minister Adriana Hart, of Pentaris,” he begins. “While no Bond flows between you and this triad, they have chosen you as their Fated Mate. They have chosen to forsake all others for your honor. This is a great action. One that all watching should understand the gravity of.” He waits a moment, letting his words sink in, and looks past my triad to the crowd. The expressions on the faces of the soldiers watching are hard and grim. Each of them is wearing the blue-black rings that cut them off from their own Fated Mates.

To them, this ceremony is a sacrifice. Their crown prince is not greater than them. Even the highest among them accepted a political marriage to strengthen their Empire against the War-God over their own Fated Mate. For the Imperial triad and their Queen, in the seats of honor, all our wedding vows will be nothing more than lies.

For us, we’ll know the truth.

The Aurelian officiant opens his mouth to continue, but Master Barker, unable to stand another second out of the spotlight, steps forward and raises his arms. “And it is a great call for celebration!” He waits for applause, but the crowd of battle-hardened soldiers are mute. “These four have chosen each other rather than letting fate decide. They’ve taken their lives into their own hands, and that is something to be cherished and admired. Ahem! Crown Prince Doman, first of the Imperial line, heir to the great throne of an ancient Empire, and your loyal and steadfast triad, Prince Titus and Prince Gallien. Do you take Adriana Hart to be your princess, your wife, to honor her and forsake all others?” As he speaks, the Aurelian officiant states near the same words in the high tongue.

“Yes,” say my men all at once, three sets of eyes not leaving me for a moment.

“And do you, Adriana Hart of Virelia, Prime Minister of the Pentaris Alliance, take these three noble men as your wedded husbands, by all the laws of the Gods, the Aurelian Empire, and those who bear witness?”

“I do,” I say simply, and take the first ring from the purple cushion. There are three simple gold rings surrounding an elaborate affair of diamonds that gleam brighter than Titus’ chain.

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