The migraine drug always knocked her out, so Kyla slept all afternoon.

It wasn’t all that unusual. She had migraines at least a few times a month, and sometimes she pretended to have one so she wouldn’t be dragged into the superficial political or diplomatic issues her sister spent her days on—which were nearly all a waste of time, and yet managed to take up a ridiculously long amount of time.

Better to spend the day in her room than to be forced to sit, bored and useless, listening to other people talk.

By sunset, the drug had mostly worn off, and Kyla had to decide whether to go down to Court for the night.

It was the last day of the week, Feast Day, which meant the most indulgent and debauched Court session of the week. Patrice would choose her new weekly partner, and everyone else would spend all night eating, feasting, and debauching themselves.

Patrice was usually pretty tolerant about Kyla bowing out, but this was the one evening of the week she was expected to make an appearance.

Her migraine was gone. She felt groggy and tired, but not in pain anymore. And Hall would be down there tonight. She wanted to keep her eye on him. He might be chosen for Patrice’s partner this week.

For no good reason, that idea bothered Kyla. Probably because she was so suspicious of Hall. She didn’t trust him around Patrice, and she didn’t like the idea of him devoting the entire week to pleasing her.

Determined to attend, if only to watch him, Kyla bathed quickly, and then brushed her hair as she decided what to wear.

When there was a tap on the private door at the back of her suite, Kyla knew who it was.

“Come in, Patrice.”

Her sister stepped into the room, looking as radiant as ever and smiling at her sister. “You look like you feel better. I was just coming in to check on you.”

“Yes, I feel better.”

“The guards told me about what happened earlier—with that man.”

“Oh. Yes. Nothing happened, and he’s been banished.”

“Good. I told them to beef up security anyway. We can’t have tourists here who act that way.”

“Most of them don’t.”

“As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“So you’re going down to Court.”

“Yes. I guess so.”

“Good. I was afraid you’d want to sit it out tonight, and you won’t want to miss what the chef has been preparing for us.”

The food was always scrumptious—every night of the week and even more so on the last day of the week.

This evening, Patrice wore flowing silk robes of crimson and indigo, her flaming red hair brushed smooth and flowing in a shiny fall down her back. She was gorgeous, with her vivid blue eyes and fair skin and long, slim build. When she was younger, Kyla had been intensely jealous of her sister’s looks. Now she was just resigned.

Where Patrice burned like a magnificent fire, Kyla faded into the background. She had sandy hair that sometimes looked blond and sometimes reddish, but mostly just plain old light brown. Her eyes were a boring blue-gray, and her body soft and curvy—despite the amount of walking she did—instead of sleek and lithe. She would never look like Patrice, and it was really just as well, since she preferred not to get that kind of attention.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I don’t know yet.” Kyla walked over to her wardrobe and stared at the piles of evening gowns. Patrice might have inherited the entire wealth, property, and title of their family, but she was generous and constantly supplied her sister with new clothes. Usually, Kyla just grabbed the first thing she saw, but today she scanned over the options, wondering what would look best on her.

“You should wear that rust-colored silk. You look gorgeous in it.” Patrice came over to stand beside her, reaching out for a long gown that draped over one shoulder, cinched with a sash at the waist, and then slid slinkily down the legs. The fabric was thick and lush and shimmered with a subtle smolder, like a dying fire.

Kyla couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn the gown, but if Patrice said it was good, then it was. “Okay. Thanks. I will.”

While she slipped on the clothes, Patrice watched her thoughtfully. “Please say you’ll choose a partner today.”

In the Court of Evalon, after Patrice made her choice for the week, the ladies always chose their partners. Sometimes just for the evening, sometimes for the week like their Lady Governor, and sometimes for a lifetime, if they happened on one they really liked.

“It’s not for me,” Kyla murmured softly, trying to sound gentle and not impatient. She was tired of having this conversation with her sister.

“But it’s getting to be embarrassing. I’m the Empress, and my own sister refuses to follow our old customs. People will think something is wrong with you.”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“But I care. What you do reflects on me. You know that’s true.”

Of course, it was. But Kyla couldn’t imagine how having a celibate sister could impact her sister in any serious way. Everyone loved Patrice. “I’ll think about it,” she said at last, mostly to end the topic of conversation. “And, by the way, you need to be careful about calling yourself the Empress.”

“I am the Empress.” Patrice squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. She was regal, authoritative, breathtaking.

“I know—in spirit. But by the letter of Coalition law, the Empress doesn’t exist anymore. And they’re not going to like it if news gets back to them that you’re defying them. They’ve mostly left of us alone, since they don’t think we’re a threat, but they’re going to have more of a presence here if they think there’s a rebellion brewing.”

“There’s no rebellion brewing. But just because they won’t let me be called by my rightful title doesn’t mean that’s not who I am.”

Kyla gave up on tying her sash and turned toward her sister. “Seriously. It’s dangerous. If the Coalition Council finds out, the best case scenario would be they post soldiers and officials here—even in Court. Just think what that would do to our tourism earnings. People come here to forget about the Coalition. We can’t have them breathing down our necks. Promise me you won’t call yourself the Empress with anyone but me.”

Patrice laughed and leaned over to kiss Kyla’s cheek, as blithely beautiful as ever. “You’re so cute, worrying like that. You always were unnaturally serious.” She tied Kyla’s hanging sash and then patted her on the hip. “There. You look beautiful. Now go downstairs and try to have fun. Find yourself a man.”

Kyla released a long breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. Her sister was hopeless. She could only pray they stayed off Coalition radar. She did look nice, though, since the color of the gown brought out the reddish glints of her hair and made her eyes look bluer. She wasn’t planning to find a man, though.

She wondered if Patrice would choose Hall tonight.

***

When she entered the throne room twenty minutes later, the festivities were in full swing.

The banquet was laid out on the table—the best of meats, breads, and exotic fruits available to them through their sophisticated replicators, as well as an array of decadent desserts. The wine had been served for more than an hour now, so people were laughing and talking riotously. The musicians in the far corner were playing traditional Evalonian melodies on the lute, harp, and horns. The dancers would come out later.

It was a feast for all five senses, but Kyla was immediately hit with the perfume—from far too many Court ladies gathered together in one enclosed space.

The scent slammed into her like a wave, making her head throb with a dull ache. Not a migraine, fortunately. Just her normal Court headache

She’d just arrived, but she could already tell it was going to be a long night.

She went to take her seat on the far end of the royal table on the dais. Because of her relationship with Patrice, she should have sat near the center, but she’d given that seat up long ago. She didn’t like to be the center of attention, and at the end she could stay mostly out of sight. The rest of the attenders and visitors were spread out among round tables that filled the large room, with a section roped off on the right side for the Potentials.

As soon as she sat down, Kyla’s eyes moved automatically to the Potentials section. She scanned the faces quickly, until her gaze landed on Hall.

He was watching her. He looked handsome and sophisticated in silver and charcoal silk and velvet, and he appeared relaxed and confident, unlike the tense excitement she could read in the auras of the other Potentials.

When he noticed her looking at him, the corner of his mouth twitched up, and he gave her a very slight wink.

She looked away quickly, embarrassed for no good reason and afraid someone would see.

She shouldn’t be looking at Potentials, and they definitely shouldn’t be looking at her.

After a few minutes, the horns interrupted the chatter of the room with a fanfare, causing everyone to fall into silence. Then Patrice entered, smiling graciously and giving a practiced flutter of her hands when the room burst into applause.

It happened every night, and the room was particularly enthusiastic this evening, given the quality of food and wine being served.

The first thing Patrice did on Feast Days was choose her partner. The room quieted quickly as she walked over to the section of Potentials.

Kyla found herself holding her breath as her sister walked from seat to seat, making a great show of studying each man and occasionally asking them questions.

She paused in front of Hall and said something, but the question was too soft for Kyla to hear. She closed her fingers into a fist, wondering why it mattered so much to her. It didn’t matter if Patrice took Hall as her man for the week. She’d toss him aside afterwards, the way she did every other man.

Patrice spent a long time in front of Hall. She even reached out to touch his hand. Kyla shuddered, her stomach churning.

She needed to resign herself to her sister having Hall. She got everything else she wanted. Nothing had ever been Kyla’s, and it was fine. It was the way of the world—every world. You just couldn’t change the turnings of the universe, and those turnings had made Kyla a younger sister.

She had nothing to complain about. Her life was better than most. She’d always been comfortable, never been deprived or hurt. To want any more was silly and selfish.

When her sister moved on, she let out her breath. It wasn’t decided yet, but at least Patrice hadn’t chosen Hall immediately. She might come back for him, though.

Kyla watched and waited, her eyes shifting briefly back to Hall, trying to read his expression. His eyes met hers again, but this time he looked curious, as if he was trying to figure something out.

Hopefully, he wasn’t trying to figure her out. She had no idea what he might see if he looked too closely.

When Patrice had gotten to the end of the row—studying all twenty-four of the current Potentials—she extended her hand and laid her fingers on the forehead of a very handsome man with thick brown hair and sexily drooping eyes. He’d just arrived yesterday. This was his first week, and he was already chosen.

Kyla should have known to expect it. Patrice always had liked men like that. Hall was too intelligent for her. Too much was going on under his surface. Patrice had never liked that in a man.

Trying to hide how ridiculously relieved she felt that Hall hadn’t been chosen, she looked back toward him. He was watching her again. It was unnerving. What could he possibly hope to see? When he met her eyes, he gave her a little smile, as if he were amused, pleased by something.

What the hell could he be pleased about? He’d been rejected by Patrice again. He wouldn’t be a Potential if he hadn’t been hoping to be her consort. He should be as disappointed as all of the other Potentials rejected this week.

Patrice’s choice went up to the throne with her, seated at her right hand at the royal table. Then Patrice waved her arm, and all the other ladies stood up and went to search for their partners.

With the exception of the Potentials, any man in the room was fair game, even those who had come with their lifetime partners. You didn’t come to the Court of Evalon unless you were prepared to spend the night with a Court lady.

Kyla didn’t move. She never chose a man—except for a few times she’d requested the company of men she knew well, who wouldn’t expect any physicality. This evening, she scanned the room, trying to avoid Hall’s eyes.

She had no idea why he was still watching her.

In her attempt to avoid his gaze, her eyes focused on a familiar face. Commander Tor. He’d been born on Evalon and trained by the Palace Guard, moving his way up to the top rank at a surprisingly early age. Kyla knew him well. He was a few years older than her, but they’d played together as kids.

She’d always liked him. He’d been off-world for a while, sent on some mission for Patrice. Kyla smiled and got up, walking down off the dais and over to Tor, who was lounging in his chair with a cup of wine.

He was obviously off-duty tonight.

There was no particular reason that Kyla wanted to have a partner tonight, but she did.

Tor grinned back at her as she approached and stood up as she extended her hand.

“Do you want to sit with me?” she asked.

“Of course.” He had a strong, pleasant face and lovely blue eyes. He was almost a foot taller than her with an impressive shoulder breadth. “Just to sit, I assume, unless you’ve changed your habits in the months I’ve been gone.”

“Just to sit.”

He nodded and followed her up to the royal table, taking the seat next to her.

When Kyla glanced over to Hall, he was arching his eyebrows inquisitively, his gaze moving from her to Tor. Kyla suddenly wished she wasn’t in his line of sight.

The servers started to walk around with trays of food and carafes of red, white, and blue wine. The couples around her had already started to kiss, to touch, and soon it would go much further.

“How were things off-world?” Kyla asked Tor, trying to distract herself from the setting.

“As it’s always been. Cold, rigid, and barren.” Tor gave a faint smile. “Too much Coalition and not enough character.”

Kyla nodded, as his words summarized all of her feelings about the Coalition shadow, which had now fallen over most of the known universe and changed the lifestyle of all but the most primitive and isolated of planets. “We’ve managed to hold onto our world here—for the most part.”

“Yes.” Tor sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Although, I’m not sure how long it will last.”

“What do you mean?”

“Evalon is flourishing economically, and it only has one Coalition outpost. How long do you think it is before the Council starts to notice?”

“But tourists come because our traditions and rituals. If we became more in line with the Coalition, they would stop coming.”

“Yes, but that kind of logic doesn’t always occur to them.”

Kyla’s eyes scanned the lushly decorated room, filled with all kinds of worldly beauty and indulgences. It was almost too much—an excess of any desire known to humankind—and it made Kyla dizzy as she tried to process it. It felt empty to her, all surface, no depth, but that didn’t mean she wanted it wiped out in favor of gray walls and stoic utilitarianism. “Do you really think we’re in danger?”

“If we can stay off the radar, we might be all right. But you might advise your sister against claiming any position or history above the Coalition-ordained Governor.”

Kyla swallowed hard. It was exactly what she’d told Patrice earlier. If Tor, Commander of the Palace Guard and the most strategically savvy man of her acquaintance, had noticed it too, then there was definitely something to be worried about. “I’ve already told her. She doesn’t tend to listen to advice.”

Tor’s eyes were on the throne now, where Patrice was lounging back in a pleased sprawl, her chosen escort kneeling between her legs, caressing her beneath her skirt. “She should start listening,” he said.

Kyla’s concern temporarily distracted her, but soon the behavior around her became too pronounced to ignore. Patrice set the mood and manner of each evening’s Court. Today was obviously more about debauchery than formality, since she was letting the man between her legs pleasure her so early in the evening. The people around her followed suit, and soon the room was full of moans of pleasure, pants and grunts, and writhing, tangled bodies.

Her stomach tightened with that familiar sick feeling. She didn’t understand the appeal. It was so empty, superficial, over-the-top. No orgasm was worth descending into that kind of soulless physicality.

She and Tor ate and chatted occasionally for an hour, but it was too loud in the room for real conversation, and the woman beside them—Patrice’s friend Breah—was practically screaming her head off as the tourist she’d picked out was tonguing between her legs.

Breah certainly seemed to be enjoying it, but Kyla didn’t want some stranger to lick her intimately. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself, losing control like that in front of everyone she knew. She didn’t want to be flushed and damp with perspiration and clutching at anything she could reach as her body shook and jerked so awkwardly. She didn’t want to scream herself hoarse in exaggerated pleasure.

Nothing could really feel that good and be so empty at the same time. Even if it did feel good, it never lasted.

Tomorrow, all of these women would be tired and sulky and bored. Kyla knew it from long experience.

At least she would wake up feeling the same as she felt today. Like herself.

“You sure I can’t tempt you to try something?” Tor asked, leaning over to murmur the question into her ear.

Kyla looked at him in surprise. He was slightly flushed and a quick look at his crotch proved that he was turned on. It wasn’t surprising, given what he was seeing around him.

“No,” she said with a smile. “Thank you, though. You probably should have accepted a different partner.”

“Never.” His smile was sincere.

She chuckled and reached over into his lap, finding his hard cock beneath the fabric of his trousers. “I can give you a hand job, since you got unlucky in your partner.” She’d done it often enough. It was easy and didn’t mean anything to her, and she felt kindly toward Tor at the moment.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.” He gasped when she slid her fingers beneath his waistband, and then gasped again as she started to pump him with her hand.

Kyla smiled at him, but she didn’t like to meet a man’s eyes when she did this, so she glanced away, looking around at the room.

Quite without volition, her eyes landed on Hall. He was sitting unmoved, like the rest of the Potentials, but his gaze was once again focused on her. Now, he was frowning slightly.

When their eyes met, she couldn’t look away. She kept massaging Tor’s cock in a practiced manner—men were much easier than women in this regard—but she kept staring at Hall. She felt another hot flush waft over her and a tightening between her legs that completely surprised her.

Breah was crying out loudly again right next to her, almost sobbing as she worked herself up to yet another orgasm. The man she’d chosen must be good. Next to her, a man had bent a woman over the table and was taking her hard from behind. The woman’s face was bright red and her eyes tightly closed, and she was clinging hard to the far edge of the table as he pushed into her.

And Hall was still staring at Kyla.

It shouldn’t make her feel this way—like she wanted him to be doing all that to her.

She never felt that way. It was completely unprecedented, completely unnerving.

Tor grunted a few times as she sped up her rhythm, trying to get him off quickly so she could be distracted by something else. But she couldn’t seem to turn her eyes away from Hall.

The man was some sort of magician, if he was doing this to her. She remembered what it had felt like when he’d massaged her neck, that rush of unexpected pleasure.

She wondered what it would feel like if he touched other parts of her body.

Her pussy was throbbing deeply now, and she was wet between her legs. This wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t who she wanted to be. She finished Tor off quickly and pulled her hand back to herself.

“Thank you,” Tor said, relaxing back with a pleased smile. “You’re good at that.”

She wasn’t sure that was true. Anyone could get an aroused man off with her hand. But Tor was being polite, so she returned the favor. “My pleasure. I’m glad you were my partner tonight. I had a migraine earlier, and I think it’s coming back. Would you mind if I slipped away early.”

“Of course not. I’ve got duty first thing tomorrow morning anyway.” He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, and she gave him a flustered smile before she got up and hurried out of the throne room, giving a brief explanation to the Court Director, Malone, as she exited.

Patrice would be angry, but Kyla didn’t care. She needed to get out of there. Feel like herself again.

She wasn’t one of those silly women, led on by superficial touches. And Hall wasn’t going to turn her into one.

She was in the hallway, heading toward the royal wing of the palace, when she heard a voice call out to her. Sometimes, when she left early, Patrice would send a guard to call her back into the throne room, but that wasn’t who was calling out to her.

Kyla sucked in her breath as she recognized the voice, and she knew who she’d see when she paused and looked over her shoulder.

Hall.

He must have followed her, which was the strangest thing.

“What are you doing out here?” she demanded as he approached. “You’ll get in trouble for leaving. Potentials are supposed to stay all night and study up on what pleases Lady Patrice.”

Hall looked half-amused, which must be his characteristic expression. “I mastered that lesson after my first evening. From what I can see, pleasing her is not that complicated.”

“But still, you’re not supposed to leave.”

“You left. Do you still have a migraine?” His eyes changed from irony to what looked like genuine concern.

She shook her head. “Just a little headache from all the perfume. I was just…tired.”

“Were you?” He stepped closer to her, causing her to move backward.

“Yes.”

“And that’s reason enough to leave on a Feast Day?”

It wasn’t—not nearly good enough reason—but Hall wouldn’t necessarily know this. “I’m Lady Patrice’s sister. I can leave when I want.”

“What’s the matter?” He was still moving toward her, until her back hit the wall of the hallway. He stood very close—far too close. It felt very different from when the gross man had her cornered earlier today.

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“I think something is.”

“Well, it’s none of your business.”

“It feels like my business.” His voice was soft, hoarse, very seductive. It made her shiver.

“You’re a Potential. Your only business is to find a way to please Lady Patrice. That’s written in the law, you know.”

He curled up his lips and glanced briefly down the hall, toward the throne room. “That’s rather an outdated law, don’t you think?”

“We believe in outdated here. You know that. That’s why you’re not allowed any technology within the village and palace limits. The guards don’t even carry mechanized weapons. We like all of our old-fashioned customs and rituals.”

“You don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t participate in the rituals going on in there. You don’t like them. It’s a kind of silent rebellion, I think.”

She stiffened. “It is not.”

“I think it is. I’ve been watching you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be watching me. You should be watching Lady Patrice.”

“You’re more interesting. I had her figured out in an hour. I’ve been watching you for days now, and I still can’t figure you out.”

She felt a completely irrational swell of pleasure at this knowledge, that she was deep enough, complicated enough, to be a challenge to this charming, intelligent, urbane man.

He smiled. “You like that idea.”

“I do not.” She felt trapped against the wall, with Hall’s body just a few breaths away from hers. “And would you please back up?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not allowed to touch anyone else while you’re a Potential. It’s a punishable offense.”

“I touched you this afternoon,” he murmured, his eyes caressing her face. “But I’m not touching you now.”

“It feels like you are.” She was trembling now, her body reacting to his proximity, even as she realized that he wasn’t actually touching her anywhere.

She was suddenly terrified. She shouldn’t be feeling this. She shouldn’t be reacting this way. She had no idea who this man was or what he was up to here.

Hall raised a hand and very lightly grazed her cheekbone with his finger. She felt a delicious little tug inside her as her fear transformed into relaxed pleasure. She heard herself moaning as she arched against the hall, her tightened nipples slightly brushing against his chest.

She moaned again, liking how it felt, liking how she felt right now.

Hall’s eyes went hot as he stared at her. She liked that too.

“How are you doing this?” she whispered, wondering what was wrong with her body, that it was acting this way.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever you’re doing to make me feel this way.”

“I’m not doing anything. It’s all you.”

“No, it’s not. Sex isn’t my thing. I told you that before.”

He leaned in a little closer, his hand now planted against the wall. “Sex is everyone’s thing. You just need to find the right partner.”

“You need to save your energy for my sister. That’s what you’re here for.”

“What if I don’t want her anymore?”

The hoarse sound of his voice sliced through her with another wave of sensation. But she managed to think clearly enough to say, “It’s too late.”

Then suddenly she realized it was true. Her life—as well as his—was now dictated by the laws of Evalon. He’d declared himself for her sister. He could never be anything else to Kyla. If her sister rejected him, then he would have to leave the planet forever.

And Kyla could never leave. Never have him.

The truth of it slammed into her like a hammer. She was acting just like those foolish, spineless women she despised.

She pushed him back so she could move away from the wall and ran down the hall, away from him. She needed to get away. She needed to never talk to him again.

He wasn’t for her, and she shouldn’t even want him.

She took another shot of her medication, mostly so she could sleep. It didn’t really work, though. She tossed and turned in bed all night, dreaming about Hall’s eyes, Hall’s laugh, Hall’s hands touching her body.

And when she woke up, she felt terrible, so she decided to spend the day in bed.

At least, that way, she wouldn’t have to see Hall again.

***

“Seriously, Hall, you’re being stupid,” Lenna said, shaking her head at him with an uncharacteristically disapproving expression.

Hall had known Lenna for a long time. She was usually easygoing and didn’t care about whatever he did in his personal life. It was one of the reasons they’d always gotten along well.

“I’m just having a little fun,” he said, ensuring that his expression was nonchalant, although he felt rather defensive, which wasn’t like him at all. “It’s not going to cause any trouble.”

“It will. Not only is she completely out of your league, but if anyone sees you pursuing her, you could endanger your position in the palace. And then we might as well give up and go home because our job will never get done.”

“I’m not going to lose my position. I have ways of getting people to change their minds, remember?”

Lenna rolled her eyes. “Yes, I remember. But that’s a different kind of danger, and you wouldn’t have to rely on it if you’d just be smart. I’ve never seen you like this before. What is it about this girl that’s got you going like this?”

She still looked faintly annoyed, but also curious now. She had absolutely no interest in Hall herself. They’d had sex a few times when they’d first met, but then they’d discovered they were in the same business and decided to partner up. After that, any personal interest they’d had in each other had disappeared in the face of what was much more important to both of them. Business.

“I don’t know,” Hall admitted, rubbing his jaw and feeling uncharacteristically foolish. “I really don’t know. Haven’t you ever been slammed in the face by something you just had to have?”

Lenna arched her eyebrows. “Maybe one of those new galaxy-class cruisers. Or that ruby we almost got our hands on in Karna. Definitely not a man.”

Hall huffed in faint amusement. “Well, it’s never happened to me before either.”

“I thought you said you were just having fun.”

“I am,” he said quickly. “I know nothing is going to come of it. I’ve got to do something for the next few weeks, until we can get out of here. What does it matter?”

“It matters because it could put you in danger. Or, even worse, it could put me in danger. And it matters because I don’t believe you when you say it’s just for fun. I’ve watched you chase women on every planet from here to Earth, and you’ve never been like this before.”

Hall wondered if that was true. It made him nervous—and just a little bit excited. “It’ll be fine, Lenna. Let me handle my own business.”

She shook her head again as she stood up. “Okay. If you say so. We better not meet again like this until next week. You should probably stay inside the palace walls as much as possible, since you’re not being too smart about other matters.”

“Fine. We should be all set anyway. I’ll toss a note over the wall if anything else comes up.”

He wanted to get back inside the walls anyway. He wanted to see if Kyla was walking today. If not, maybe he could at least see her across the room at Court this evening.

He waved to Lenna and felt a churning in his stomach.

She might be right. He might be stupid.

It might be best if he avoid Kyla as much as possible. But even as he had the thought, he knew he couldn’t follow through with it.