Page 65 of Crown Prince's Mate

“Not at all,” says Doman, as Gallien closes the door behind him, the three of them towering over the table on the other end of the room. They’re wearing the combat robes of the species, leaving the right side of their chests bare, but I do my best to ignore those slabs of muscle. This is business, not pleasure.

“We need to talk optics.” I flick my hand, opening the star map. It appears on the table between us, less crisp than the map in the throne room, slower to load, as I focus the holo-graphic map towards Virelia. The largest planet in our system, covered in greens and blues of freshwater lakes and trees so high the tips seem to touch the sky. “You won’t find many allies here. Out in the reaches, people are fiercely loyal to Pentaris.”

Doman leans over the chair, putting his hands on the table. His forearms thicken as they take on his weight, his muscles flexing oh so distractingly.

Why, oh why, did these three have to be made so damnedperfect?One would be bad enough. But the three of them together make it impossible to focus on anything. Titus and Doman, like warring gods of different sects, Gallien, with his patrician precision, this mix of savagery and royalty that only my hate could keep at bay.

“You’re the politician, Adriana. Tell us what we need to know.”

“It’s a sticky situation. Virelia and Frosthold are the planets most opposed to Aurelian overreach.”

Titus reaches up, pushing those unruly, thick black locks out of his eyes. “You were elected to oppose us. Now you are to be wed to us. Are you in danger in Virelia? Our Intelligence rates the assassination risk as low.”

I stay sitting. There’s no point in standing—they’d tower over me anyways. “Most of them think I tricked you. While any new technology will take careful review by the wardens before being applied, the people benefit instantly from the end of licensing fees. Not to mention the med-bays. There’s already feel-good stories in the planetary media of people facing terminal diseases coming out of the bays healthy again when they had no hope.”

Gallien gets a strange smile on his face. “You’re their martyr. The woman who fought against us, sacrificing herself to be wed to the men she hates for the good of Pentaris. Then what do we need to worry about?”

I nod. “Trade deals and medical miracles are one thing. But when Virelians see Aurelian triads setting foot on our sacred planet… it’s going to be tough for some people to accept.”

“We can face whatever is put against us,” shrugs Doman.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Virelians have pride. You three stepping on their planet is humiliation enough… and not all see me as a martyr. Some used to see me as a symbol of defiance. Now I’m..” I swallow. It’s hard to say, but I can’t hide from it. “Now they will see me as your possession, a Virelian traded to you in return for material benefit. It’s standard in our culture. Trade deals signed with a marriage pact. It keeps Pentaris unified. But it’s a slap in their face.”

“This was a lot easier when you hated us, wasn’t it?” Gallien’s eyes sparkle, teasing me.

I shake my head in annoyance. “This is serious.”

Titus grins. “We’ve gone into Scorp nests with no backup, went up against Fanatics screaming for our blood. Virelia is a vacation.”

“Would you wear your formal robes?”

“Telling us to cover up?” Gallien smiles. He raises his hands when I glare.

“You’re in your war-robes.”

“These are our daily clothes,” says Doman. “But we can change.”

“Thank you. It’s not a good look. I won’t ask you to leave your Orb-Blades behind. But maybe skip the crowns for this stop.”

“Any other outfit advice?” Titus looks frustrated to even be having this conversation. I wonder what I pulled him from.

“Don’t blame me for this. You’re saving time going through Pentaris. You’d be away from your war for months if it wasn’t for this deal. And yes, Titus…”

He sees where I’m looking, and reaches up, touching his chain. He wears it everywhere, but he was smart enough to take it off in the holo-vid meeting in the initial negotiations.

“It’s got the symbol of the Aurelian Empire. It’s bad enough we’ve got a warship landing on our planet.”

“Alright. I’ll take off the chain…” he says, then smiles, in a sneaky way I don’t like. “But you make everything a negotiation. So what do I get out of it?”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll make it easy. One kiss. So that every time you’re in a meeting that makes you want to blow your brains out with boredom, you think of me.”

I raise my finger. “Just one kiss. That’s it. Then you three leave and get changed.”

“Word of honor,” says Titus, walking around the boardroom table until he’s towering over me. Sitting, my head is not evenat his waist. He leans in and kisses me, softly at first, then harder. I reach up to push him back, when his tongue slides into my mouth, and I sink into it, enjoying the distraction from my constant stress.

But only for a moment. I kick my wheeled chair back. “I don’t want you traipsing around my ship saluting my staff with that thing,” I say, looking down at his stiffening cock.

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