The Space Empress He Craved

Chapter 21

POV: Lyra

All eyes turned to Orion, waiting. His pathways dimmed to cautious purple as he spoke. "He claims he's recognized his errors. Wants family reunification. Made it crystal clear he's not after the throne—accepts it's mine."

"Do you believe him?" I kept my voice neutral, though skepticism bled through our bond.

Orion shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. "Never believe Greg. There's always a concealed agenda."

"Cousin," Christian's golden pathways flickered with suspicion, "why do I suspect his return correlates with you finding our Empress?" He gestured at me.

Orion sighed, his arm sliding protectively across my shoulders. The possessive gesture sent unwanted warmth through our bond. "If you're asking whether your paranoia is justified, Christian, I'd say yes. Same thought occurred to me. The timing's too convenient."

"Did he mention her?" Christian's voice dropped to barely audible, his worry tangible.

"Not explicitly." Orion's jaw clenched. "But he was probing, trying to make me confirm I'd found my match."

"What's the strategic disadvantage of him knowing I exist?" I asked, though I could already calculate several scenarios.

Christian's pathways darkened. "He'll systematically undermine you. Make you feel unworthy, manipulate you into severing the bond. He tried it with Annie—my match. Fortunately, I intercepted before she acted on his suggestions."

"Interesting." I processed this information, adding it to my threat assessment.

"Maintain your guard around him," Christian warned.

"After this intelligence briefing? Definitely." Though honestly, I'd been on guard since entering the station. Old habits from the mining colonies—never trust, always verify.

Orion's anxiety pulsed through our bond, his pathways cycling through worried purples and blacks. I stroked his hand, trying to send calm through the connection, but the tension in his jaw remained.

He's more worried than he's showing. This Greg is a real threat.

I rose to refill my hydration cylinder. The dispensers lined the far wall, their soft blue glow indicating optimal temperature. Just as the cylinder filled, someone blocked my path. I stepped back, taking in the Lyrokan before me—Greg, with his dying-star pathways and a smirk that probably worked on more naive beings.

His eyes scanned me with obvious hunger, starting at my feet and traveling slowly upward.

Predictable. Males always think intimidation through sexualization works.

I attempted to sidestep him. He moved to block me. "What's the rush?"

From across the hall, Orion's pathways flared black. He started toward us with lethal intent.

Let him come. But I can handle this.

I kept my expression neutral, my skin carefully controlled at silver. "Didn't realize you wanted conversation. How may I assist?"

He scoffed, orange-gold pathways pulsing with disdain. "So you're the Emperor's match."

Orion reached us, his arm wrapping around my waist with enough force to broadcast possession to everyone watching. I maintained eye contact with Greg. "Did you have an actual question, sir?"

"Sir?" Greg's surprise made his pathways flicker. He addressed Orion with false familiarity. "I see you haven't briefed your match about your cousin."

"Didn't see the relevance." Orion's lie was smooth.

"And you didn't mention finding your match." Greg's smile never reached his eyes. "Had to interrogate those Council offspring for the intelligence." He gestured toward the Minister's daughters he'd been cultivating.

"If you have no actual questions, I'll take my leave." I took one step. He blocked me again.

Predictable power play. Let's see what you've got.

He raised his voice, ensuring maximum audience. "I heard you were rejected five times before him?"

"Shut up, Greg." Orion's growl reverberated through the hall.

I smiled—the kind that never reaches the eyes, the kind I learned in the mining colonies when bigger beings tried to break you. I matched his volume, ensuring everyone heard. "Indeed, I was. I survived five psychic bond severances and stand before you, functional and thriving. What about you, Your Grace? How many have you survived?"

His pathways stuttered, caught off-guard. He tried redirecting. "Five, though?"

"Evading the question, though?" I echoed his tone mockingly. Several Kaelari were suppressing smiles. Even some younger Lyrokans looked amused.

Greg's desperation showed as he announced, "Kaelari, I can have a different companion nightly. Why would I want a match?"

There it is. The superiority play.

I stepped forward, letting my voice carry authority earned through combat, not birthright. "It's not about wanting. Matches are granted to anyone remotely deserving. So I'm curious—still matchless at your age, how many matches have you had previously?"

"That's... personal." He was actually squirming, his pathways cycling through embarrassed oranges.

My smirk turned predatory. "Funny how you found it appropriate to ask me, isn't it?"

His teeth grinding was audible. I pressed on, voice clear and commanding. "Why are you here?"

He attempted recovery with false charm. "Meeting my future relative, naturally."

"Suddenly concerned with family additions, I see."

His eyes widened momentarily before he covered with a bitter laugh. "So you've been briefed about me."

I dropped all pretense, stepping closer, letting my skin shift to warning-red. "You clearly haven't been briefed about me." Another step forward, voice dropping to the tone that made trained soldiers nervous. "If you think you can arrive here and break me, you're drastically uninformed, Your Grace. I suggest adjusting your approach before I adjust it for you."

I turned to leave with Orion, but Greg's voice followed, pitched to ensure everyone heard. "Bold words from the smallest Kaelari in the room to one of the strongest Lyrokans."

There it is. The size supremacy card. How original.

Orion's growl made several Lyrokans step back. But I simply turned, offering another empty smile. "Ignorance is blissful, Your Grace, until it gets you terminated."

Greg's pathways flashed with genuine alarm.

Orion's voice carried lethal promise. "Greg, if you want to remain, behave. Don't make me eject you for disrespect as well."

"Hmph!" Greg stormed off, his pathways a chaos of frustrated colors.

Through the corner of my eye, I watched him leave. The Kaelari were shooting him looks of pure disdain. The younger Lyrokans seemed confused—probably never seen anyone speak to nobility that way. The older ones looked scandalized.

Good. Let them all see I won't be intimidated by titles or size or species.

As we returned to our table, Juan was grinning. "Lyra, that was stellar [amazing]."

Hale added quietly, "Never seen a Duke's Grace shut down so efficiently."

Christian's golden pathways blazed with admiration. "My Empress, that was a masterclass in verbal combat."

"Just establishing boundaries," I replied, but through our bond, I felt Orion's emotions—pride, concern, and something else. Arousal?

Of course. Males always find confrontation attractive.

"He'll retaliate," Orion warned quietly. "Greg doesn't handle humiliation well."

"Let him try." I met his purple eyes steadily. "I've survived five rejections, seventeen assassination attempts, and growing up in Sector Seven. One spoiled Duke with an ego problem? That's recreational."

But even as I projected confidence, a small part of me wondered if Greg would target the real vulnerability—not my past rejections, but my growing feelings for Orion. The ones I kept trying to suppress. The dangerous hope that maybe, just maybe, match number six would be different.

No. Don't give him that power. Don't give anyone that power.

From across the hall, I caught Greg watching me. His dying-star pathways pulsed with something I recognized too well—interest. The predatory kind.

Great. Another problem to handle.

But as Orion's hand found mine under the table, his thumb stroking my knuckles, I realized the bigger problem wasn't Greg.

It was how much I wanted to believe this touch meant something real.

That's the real danger. Not Greg. Hope.

Always hope.