"So," I said, breaking every speed law in three systems, "we're just not going to talk about that kiss?"
"Which one?" Meus replied, her hand on my thigh, fingers pressing through the leather of my racing pants. "The one in hyperspace, or the one half the racing circuit just witnessed?"
"Fuck. You think someone recorded it?"
"You're the Crown Prince at an illegal race. Everyone was recording." Her hand traced higher. "We need a story."
"Bodyguard ensures employer's safety?"
"By sticking her tongue down his throat?"
"Thorough security check?"
"Try again." Her thumb traced a particularly distracting pattern. "Eyes on the road, my lord."
"Fuck the road."
"Later. Princess first, fucking second."
"I prefer the reverse order."
"I noticed." She finally removed her hand as the palace came into view. "That kiss was—"
"Incredible? Mind-blowing? Worth breaking seventeen protocols for?"
"Impulsive," she said, but her voice was warm. "We need to discuss boundaries."
"Now? While racing to a maybe-assassination?"
"Especially now." She checked her weapon, movements sharp and efficient. "I can't protect you if I'm distracted by... this."
"This?" I pulled into the palace's emergency entrance, tires screaming. "We're calling it 'this' now?"
"Would you prefer 'monumentally bad idea' or 'career-ending decision'?"
"I prefer 'inevitable.'"
She looked at me then, really looked at me. "Raven—"
"Lord Raven! Commander!" A medic rushed up as we exited. "This way! The princess's condition is deteriorating!"
And just like that, we were back in crisis mode.
---
The palace medical wing looked like someone had declared war on calm. Guards at every corner, medics running with equipment, and nobles clustering in worried groups while trying to look important. Even in a medical emergency, being Crown Prince meant guards stepped aside without question.
"Fifty credits says she poisoned herself," I muttered.
Meus smacked my arm. "You can't bet on assassination attempts."
"Since when?"
"Since—" She paused. "Actually, what's the over-under on self-inflicted?"
"Three to one odds. Four to one if she did it during dinner for maximum drama."
"You're both terrible," Admiral Korrath appeared like a disapproving ghost. "The princess of our most important alliance is fighting for her life, and you're making wagers?"
"Just processing grief in my own way," I said solemnly. "Everyone handles near-death experiences differently."
He looked like he wanted to throw me out an airlock. "The Emperor is with her. He... requests your presence."
'Requests' the way a black hole 'requests' nearby matter.
"Lead the way, Admiral."
The medical suite's doors were flanked by enough guards to invade a small planet. They parted as we approached, and I stepped into what looked like a very expensive, very dramatic theater production.
The princess lay on a medical bed that probably cost more than a fighter squadron, looking like a poisoned angel. If angels wore silk negligees to assassination attempts and somehow managed to look seductive while "dying."
My father stood at the foot of the bed, radiating the kind of controlled fury that made seasoned generals wet themselves. The medical displays showed vitals that looked concerning but not critical—elevated heart rate, minor respiratory distress, nothing that screamed 'immediate death.'
"Lord Raven," the princess gasped, turning those calculating eyes on me. "You came."
"As quickly as I could," I said, moving to her bedside. "Your Highness, what happened?"
"Poison," she whispered dramatically. "In the wine. A gift from an admirer, I thought, but..."
"You drank mystery wine from an anonymous source?" I couldn't hide my disbelief. "That seems... unlike you."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained the act. "I was distracted. Thinking of you."
Behind me, I heard Meus shift slightly.
"The doctors say I might die," the princess continued, one hand clutching at her chest. "Unless..."
"Unless?"
"Unless someone gives me a reason to live." Her free hand reached out weakly. "Perhaps my betrothed could..."
I took her hand carefully. "Your Highness, what exactly are we dealing with? Doctor?"
The nervous Terran physician consulted his datapad. "The preliminary tests suggest a neurotoxin variant, possibly Thessian in origin, but—"
"Thessian?" I interrupted. "Purple coloration in the wine? Sweet aftertaste?"
"Y-yes, my lord. How did you—"
"I've seen it before," I said smoothly. "Diplomatic dinner three years ago. Same purple tint, same symptoms. Check for Paradise subset markers."
The Emperor studied me carefully. "I don't recall that incident."
"It was handled quietly. The victim didn't want publicity." Vague enough to be unverifiable, specific enough to be believable.
"Run the test," the Emperor commanded.
The room went quiet as we waited. The princess's grip on my hand tightened slightly.
"Thessian Paradise confirmed," the doctor announced. "Non-lethal, but dramatic symptoms."
The princess sat up immediately, dropping the dying act. "Clever. How did you really know?"
"The symptoms were too theatrical," I said. "Real poison doesn't give you time to look pretty while dying."
She laughed—genuine this time. "Fair point. But someone did try to kill me. I switched the wines, but there's still an assassin in the palace."
"And you're not worried?"
"I'm Zephyrian. We eat assassins for breakfast." She smiled dangerously. "Literally, in some cases."
"So this was a test," I said.
"Everything's a test." She stood, silk sliding strategically. "You passed, by the way."
"Lucky me."
"Among other things," she added, eyes sliding to where Meus stood. "Your bodyguard has some interesting marks on her neck, by the way. Might want to handle that before someone notices."
Meus's hand went automatically to her neck, where I'd left several enthusiastic bruises during our hyperspace encounter. The temperature in the room dropped.
"Thank you for your concern," Meus said evenly.
"Of course. We should look out for each other." The princess's smile was sharp. "After all, we'll be seeing so much of each other once Raven and I are married."
"If you'll excuse me," I interrupted before blood was drawn, "I should report to my father."
The Emperor was already moving toward the door. "Walk with me."
---
The corridor was empty except for us. He walked in silence for a moment before speaking.
"You saw through her game."
"It wasn't subtle."
"No. But you knew about Paradise poison. Specifically."
"I pay attention," I said carefully. "Information is power."
"Indeed." He stopped at a window overlooking the city. "The princess is clever. Dangerous. She'll make an interesting empress."
"If we don't kill each other first."
---
I found Meus in my quarters, having somehow beaten me there. She'd changed into casual clothes—tank top and shorts that made thinking difficult.
"That was fun," she said.
"Which part? The fake assassination or the real threat of marriage?"
"Both." She moved closer. "The princess knows something's different about you."
"Everyone says that lately."
"Because it's true." She was close enough now that I could smell her shampoo. "The old you would have fallen for her act. Played the hero, kissed the dying maiden."
"Maybe I'm just tired of games."
"Or maybe," she pressed closer, "you're finally becoming who you were meant to be. Not your father's weapon, but something else."
"Like what?"
"I don't know yet. But I like it."
She kissed me then, slower than at the racing circuit but no less intense. I pulled her closer, hands finding skin, and—
The door chimed. Then again, insistently.
"Ignore it," I mumbled against her mouth.
"It's the priority override," she said, already reaching for her weapon.
The door opened. Admiral Korrath stood in the entrance, expression professionally neutral despite the obvious situation.
"Lord Raven. Commander." His tone was clipped. "We have a situation."
"Another assassination?" I grabbed my shirt.
"No, my lord. Multiple situations. The Zephyrian delegation is demanding answers about the Princess's poisoning. Several noble houses are calling for an emergency session. And..." he paused, checking his datapad, "someone leaked footage of tonight's illegal racing activities."
"Racing footage?" My stomach dropped.
"High quality. Multiple angles. The palace communications department has flagged it as a potential crisis."
"How bad?"
"Two million views in the last twenty minutes, my lord."
Fuck.
"The nobles will see this as weakness," Meus said, pulling on her uniform jacket.
"Because I race?"
"Because you were caught. And because you're doing it while your bride-to-be was supposedly dying." She paused. "The military won't care, but the noble houses will use this against you."
"Let them try."
"Raven, this isn't a game. The Zephyrian alliance—"
"Will survive. The Princess doesn't strike me as the jealous type."
"No, but she strikes me as the type who keeps score."
Korrath cleared his throat. "The Emperor has called a full court assembly to address both situations. Your presence is... required immediately."
"Both situations?"
"The Zephyrian poisoning and your... extracurricular activities, my lord."
Well, fuck.
The game just got more complicated.