by Mara Gan
“Oh my god,” I cried. “I am not a dog. And you don’t need to watch my every move—”
Perseus halted so abruptly that I ran right into him. I would have tripped if he hadn’t been holding me so tightly. “What was I hired for?” he asked, his black eyes glaring at me.
“To protect me, but—”
“Did I know where you were the past hour?”
“No, but—”
“Can I protect you when I don’t know where you are?”
“No, but—”
“Then you’ll do as I tell you,” he said harshly, resuming his fast pace out of the Hypethral. “The last thing I need is you making this job any more difficult.”
“I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, Protector,” I said. “I didn’t realize my life was such a nuisance.”
He snorted. “I take great pride in achieving what I am hired to do, little girl,” he answered. “You making that more difficult is a great nuisance.”
I was silent, letting him drag me out of the Hypethral, as I sought to adjust to this new Perseus. I was deeply confused; I had met one version of him in the bar, one I liked immensely—too much, really—one who was funny, conversational, and reasonable. Almost easygoing. Flirtatious, even.
Then I’d met a different Perseus the next day, one who had more fury in him than perhaps everyone I’d ever met combined, but more passion. The things he’d said to me about how he felt… I shivered remembering how being in his arms felt.
And today I had an entirely new Perseus. This one was my least favorite; he was bossy, domineering, unreasonable, and frankly kind of a self-satisfied jerk.
Who would I meet tomorrow?
I wondered if he was doing this to punish me for not revealing my identity right away. Unfortunately, I still had no sense of his emotions or what he was really thinking. I sighed as I glanced around the still-quiet Esplanade as we passed through it, thinking it would be almost an hour before it began filling with people for the day.
His fingers still dug into my arm, making me painfully aware that our last embrace had been far more pleasant.
“Perseus,” I began hesitantly, watching him punch buttons on the lift to take us to my apartments, “should we… should we talk about….” I faltered, embarrassed, not knowing what to say.
He hauled me into the lift. “Talk about what, little girl?” he asked curtly, pressing the button to close the door.
“You know,” I mumbled. “When we… um, when we….” I swallowed, feeling that my face was beet red. I wasn’t used to talking about such things. “Kissed.”
He was silent a moment. “What about it would you like to discuss?”
I turned my face up to his, pained. “Well….” I ran my fingers through my hair, nervous. “I just wanted to… to tell you again that I’m, um, I’m sorry.”
His dark eyes probed mine. “Sorry for what?”
“Sorry for… for not telling you who I was, I guess,” I said, looking away as I fidgeted. “I didn’t mean for you to….”
“Princess.”
I looked up at him again.
“It’s past,” he said easily, raising an eyebrow. “There’s not a lot to talk about. You were a pretty girl in a bar. I’m a man who likes pretty girls in bars.” He shrugged. “But you’re the princess.”
I had no doubt that my expression was pained. “Pretty girl in a bar?” I repeated slowly. “That… that’s all?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Were you wanting more?”
I flushed and yanked my arm out of his grasp, slugging him in the shoulder as we exited the lift. It surprised him enough that he let go of my arm, and I stalked off down the hallway toward my apartments.
“If it makes you feel any better, Princess,” he called, “you were the prettiest girl in the bar that night!”
I waved my hand dismissively at him as I stormed into my quarters, his chuckling following me.
I slumped on my sofa, arms folded, cheeks burning. I felt humiliated. I had just been a “pretty girl in a bar”? I had thought….
I sighed and rested my head in my hands. I’d thought I was special. But apparently that was how Perseus treated girls: like they were special.
I frowned. I was so embarrassed. My Protector now thought I was an easy toy for any man to play with. He probably thought I kissed men all the time, maybe even invited them up to my apartments….
I shuddered, feeling shy. I’d never even kissed a man before Perseus. The idea of something so… so intimate was nothing short of terrifying.
Abruptly I was angry. How dare he treat me that way? He had made me feel special, and then quickly turned that around to make me feel used, castoff. My eyes stung. He was so arrogant, and bossy, and—
I sighed again. And I’d loved every minute of it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I stared up at the ceiling, trying to count the little spots in the plaster as a way to distract myself from the boring meeting. Diplomacy, petitions, that was interesting. I helped people. There was something to do, to focus on.
I reflected on this morning’s meeting with the NTA ambassador; all things considered, it had gone really well. After an hour of gentle haggling, I convinced him it would be worth his while to set a conference date to avoid future hostilities between the NTA and Galaxia; the NTA was powerful and far-reaching, but Galaxia was more so. And people liked us more than they liked the NTA, making us a valuable ally.
I had suspected from the start that the NTA agreed with this sentiment, and being an empath only confirmed that. My meetings with the ambassador had also confirmed two things: one, the NTA did not want to make an enemy of Galaxia; and two, the main thing keeping them from negotiating was that they saw it as bending to my wishes.
Not Galaxia’s—mine.
I had two strikes against me in their eyes. First, I wasn’t the ruler—yet. I was Prophesied and all that garbage, but I wasn’t technically in charge, nor was I even “royal.” Most Galaxian rulers were “royal”—whatever that meant—on their home planets, and got “chosen” through a lot of political lobbying. I was the first actual Prophesied Heir in centuries, but had, much to the galaxy’s chagrin, been born into a normal middle-class family in a small village on Halia. The Moirae bestowed a title on me, but I wasn’t “royal blood.” Like having royal blood somehow made a difference in a person’s worth.
As such, the NTA felt as though Cepheus was disregarding them when he’d foisted their problem off on me. I finally convinced the ambassador that Cepheus was much, much older than rulers generally were, and was also doing everything in his power to set me up as a ruler.
Fine, I could deal with that one. That was easy.
The second strike against me tried even my patience. The NTA didn’t like me because I was a girl.
I almost harrumphed. I had been trained to deal with that sort of thing, but it still annoyed me.
I had, of course, kept my patience and eventually won the concessions, but I went straight to my favorite tea latte shop afterward for some much-needed caffeine and sugar.
I was still at a loss for how to obtain the artifact needed to even attend the negotiations, but I had made enormous strides, and I chose to focus on that. Baby steps.
And despite the annoyances, that meeting had been useful. Productive. Meaningful.
This, however… this was a meeting from hell. This was boredom at its finest. This was worse than being sucked out into the depths of space and having the silence of it scream at me until my brain could no longer take the pressure—
“I apologize if we’re boring you, Princess.”
I snapped to attention, my eyes focusing on my new Protector. I colored slightly, immediately straightening in my seat and adjusting my hands more formally.
Perseus was leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, studying me through narrowed eyes.
“N-no,” I said, trying not to stutter. “I was listening.”
“And we were discussing…?”
I chewed my lip. “My safety?”
Kos chuckled. “Given that this entire meeting is about your safety, that was a safe guess.”
I sighed and twirled my depressingly empty Mathan Fog cup. “I am sorry. I will try to pay closer attention.”
Perseus frowned. “This is your life, Princess,” he said sternly. “You can’t be more serious about it than that?”
I shrugged, picking at the fabric of the chair. “I think we’re overreacting a bit, that’s all.”
“You think we’re overreacting?” Kos repeated curiously. “Someone tried to kill you, and you think that isn’t a big deal?”
“A lot of people want me dead,” I said easily. I had long ago come to terms with that.
Perseus’s frown deepened. “And you don’t care?”
“Of course I don’t want to die,” I scoffed. “But I don’t think limiting my freedom is going to make a difference. If they really want to get me, they will.”
“Or maybe you just don’t want your freedom limited?” Perseus replied, eyebrow raised.
“I can’t say as though I blame her,” Synie said.
“You’re not helping,” Perseus said, frowning at her. “Alright, Princess. Let’s start with past problems. When did you first know someone was trying to kill you?”
“When I was born.”
“I’m serious.”
“That wasn’t entirely a joke,” I replied, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “Having been identified early as the Heir gave me quite a few enemies among planets who were hoping to produce the next Heir. Especially since I’m not truly ‘royal.’”
“Velur, in particular, was upset,” Synie supplied. “They had several prodigies in Moirae monasteries who they were training to be diplomats.”
“Isn’t the Heir chosen through some sort of Moirae divination, though?” Perseus asked.
“That doesn’t stop every planet in the galaxy from hoping to sway the Moirae prophecies,” Kos replied. “There are a lot more politics to the choosing of an heir than people realize. Meda is the first true Heir in centuries; most of the others, Cepheus included, have been chosen by Moirae consensus rather than a real prophecy. And, naturally, the consensus usually falls on royals, to keep all planets happy.”
“You’re not royal?” my Protector asked, turning to me.
“No.” I shook my head. “I was born into a plain old normal family.”
“The Moirae gave her a title, however, once the Prophecy about her became known,” Synie said. “The Princess Harmonia is her official title.”
“Interesting,” Perseus said thoughtfully. “So you were a target early on,” he acceded, leaning back. He propped his feet up on the table. “Now—”
“Don’t you have any manners at all?” I frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“Your feet.”
“What about them?”
“Feet go on the floor.”
“My feet go where they please, little girl.”
“Oh, seriously—”
“Later, Princess.” He glared at me. “Now tell me what attempts were made.”
I scowled. “Well, I suppose the attack on my ship was my first real attempt.” I grinned. “Like my own little initiation into the Club of Would-Be Assassinated Royals.”
“I hardly call this funny,” Perseus snapped. “What happened?”
My sense of mischief faded and he actually looked contrite for a moment. We really needed to get the man a better sense of humor. “I was flying back from the dispute on Lozha when my ship was attacked.”
“Who was with you?”
“Just Kos and Synie.”
“And this was when?”
I paused, glancing at Synie for confirmation before I answered. “About two years ago, I suppose.”
“Two years?” He glanced at Kos. “Why did you take so long in coming to find me?”
“Attacks on the Heir’s ship were not new,” Kos replied, frowning at me. “That was just the most… aggressive. And that was the last time we let her leave Galaxia.”
“Which I have continued to complain about,” I pointed out glumly.
“As the attack was made well away from the station, I did not seek you out then,” Kos continued, ignoring me. “Galaxia has always been relatively safe, so we weren’t as worried about her here in the city.”
“So what made you change your mind?” Perseus asked. “She will be of age to be queen in less than a year, if I understand your bizarre rules correctly, at which point the Mousai can guard her.”
“If you’d like to leave, Protector,” I cut in, “by all means, do so. I’d love to have my freedom back. We’ll call you when—”
“I’m not going anywhere, little girl,” Perseus said dryly. “So stop whining and tell me what happened.”
I sighed and tilted my head back to study the ceiling again. He wasn’t going to like this story, not if the way he reacted to my being in the Mathan tavern was any indication. Or even just alone in the Hypethral.
Perseus waited, but when I didn’t answer, Synie leaned forward to explain. “There was… an incident,” she said. “Meda was grabbed on the Esplanade and carried to one of the loading docks.”
“All the way to the loading dock?” Perseus asked incredulously.
“Carried might not be the right word,” Kos said. “Dragged is more like it.”
“I was not dragged,” I interrupted, glaring at him. “I was… struggling.”
Perseus looked mildly amused. “You fought your captors?”
“Of course I did,” I said, indignant. “I didn’t want to be kidnapped.”
“When did this happen?”
“About three days before I came to find you,” Kos replied. “A man grabbed her while she was alone and thought to take advantage of the bounty on her.”
“Just one? Who was he?”
“A Mathan mercenary, actually,” Kos said. “By the name of Tollak.”
“Ah.” Perseus looked back at me. “No wonder you dislike me.”
“I don’t dislike you,” I answered, scowling. “And I would never dislike someone based solely on race, either.”
“I believe that much,” Perseus said. “And it was just him? No one else?”
“He was quite enough,” I said.
“Why did no one stop him?”
I fidgeted and turned my attention back to the ceiling.
He tilted his head, frowning, before glancing to Synie. “Synie?”
“It was not the time of day when many people are out,” Synie said tactfully, watching me. “The Heir enjoys late night strolls. Tollak found her walking alone.”
I closed my eyes, bracing myself to be yelled at.
When there was only silence, I cracked one eye open to check on Perseus’s reaction. Those black eyes were trained on me, his gaze deep and foreboding with the promise of fury worse than this morning’s episode if I ever did such a thing again, and I wasn’t entirely sure there wouldn’t be retroactive yelling at some point in the future.
“Why,” he asked slowly, his voice dark, “would you be taking walks alone in the middle of the night?”
I swallowed, bravado momentarily gone. “I don’t sleep well,” I murmured. “Walking sometimes helps.”
“Being empathic makes her overly sensitive to the feelings of everyone on the station,” Kos supplied, taking pity on me. “It can be overwhelming, particularly if she can hear their thoughts too.” He cast a sideways glance at me. “Which she can do more and more frequently of late.”
Perseus’s eyes never left me, but they softened. Marginally. “Can you not block any of this telepathic noise?”
I shook my head, lips pursed, as I picked at a thread on my chair.
“I’ve been trying to teach her some mental exercises to help block some of the telepathic noise,” Kos said, “but we’ve had limited success. She hates taking medicine, but none have helped her anyway. Physically tiring her out has been the most effective
of late.”
“Then we either get you a treadmill,” Perseus said, “or you come get me before you go for a walk.”
“You don’t need to follow me around all the time,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Generally, ‘Protector’ means keeping you safe, yes?” he asked mildly. At my hesitant nod, he said, “Then doesn’t it stand to reason that I need to be with you in order to keep you safe?”
“But not all the time,” I protested. “I don’t need to be protected at every single minute—”
“I believe that is, more or less, what ‘Protector’ means, little girl,” he said. “Shall I get you a dictionary?”
“I don’t need a dictionary—”
“This very conversation would indicate otherwise.”
“Must you always be so rude?”
“Must you always be so mulish?” he countered.
I threw my hands up and leaned back, feeling decidedly mulish. “Why did I get stuck with a mercenary for a bodyguard?” I asked no one in particular.
“Relax, Princess,” he sneered. “You’re just another contract. In a year you’ll be eligible for the Mousai to guard you full-time and you can be rid of me.”
I bit my lip and said nothing, feeling guilty. I hadn’t meant to insinuate that I wanted to be rid of him. Quite the opposite, unfortunately for me. I just wanted my freedom back, and I could feel it slipping away.
Perseus turned his attention back to Synie and Kos. “Anything else I should know?”
Kos glanced between us, bemused. “There was one more thing,” he said. “Although many people have taken out contracts on her, we have reason to believe a rather prominent person has put out a contract for her to be kidnapped.”
“Oh?” Perseus asked, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“Tollak was carrying a letter,” Synie said. “The letter specifically told him the princess had to be taken alive.”
Perseus narrowed his eyes. “I see.”
“Wait,” I cut in, sitting forward. “Why is that bad? Seems to me they’re not actively trying to kill me. Isn’t that good?”
Perseus swiveled to look at me. “Suddenly taking an interest, little girl?”
