The further into our voyage through the outer reaches of the Triangulum Galaxy and into the Egnus Galaxy that was home to both Dragselia and Infernis, the more time I spent accompanying Denise, attempting to entertain her, and trying to block out the growing tension between us.

Even in dreams, I was plagued by her. Her chocolate brown eyes spoke of secrets that I wanted to explore. I wanted to see them clouded with passion. I wanted to peel back every layer of the slinky little outfits she wore that accentuated every delicious curve of hers, hinting at the glorious body beneath. I wanted to get lost in her, and as the time passed with little to do in the thick of empty space, I came closer and closer to allowing myself to.

Still, she was clearly still building a story, and I wasn’t sure how much of her flirtations were motivated by her drive to get more information. She had interviewed nearly everyone on the ship. Her questions had run the gamut from inquiring about the political structure of Dragselia to our individual educations and ambitions.

For the most part, none of us had any problem with that. Tasha had discreetly gathered background information about her.

“She appears to be exactly who she says she is. I had Li look into her work history, and one of Janeway’s men ran her through their database as well,” Tasha had informed me, her voice and image projected through the comm panel in my chamber.

Keeping my voice quiet, I inquired, “What about her father’s death? Does Janeway know what happened?” I asked, referencing Charles Janeway, the unofficial mayor of Steel City who had taken control over the city and brought back the rule of law, making the city safe from the crime lords who had controlled it and most of Vaxivia with it.

She shook her head. “No, not definitively. The struggles were a rough time, and there were several crime lords who wrested control over the city between them, and their competing factions often harmed innocents and those on the periphery of their dealings. It’s hard to say who exactly killed him and why.

“Records indicate he died when Denise was eight, and she was left in the care of her mother, who struggled to support them. Their housing records are spotty, but it looks like they bounced around between extended family and possibly, her mother’s boyfriends. It appears that Denise was an excellent student, though, and her merit won her a sponsored placement in a private academy in Steel City where she made the most of the opportunity. Pretty impressive, if you ask me. She dealt with a fair amount of personal trauma and still made herself into a success.”

I nodded. “It certainly explains her determination and ambition. Does it say anything else about her personal history other than her childhood?”

Tasha smiled. “Do you mean her dating history, perhaps?”

I tried to bluster an excuse. “Well, that or anything else. I just mean for the purposes of rounding out her motivations, you know, so we understand exactly what she’s after here.”

Ragal came into the frame, his shirt off. “What’s this? Does the little flame have a crush?” He laughed, referencing my childhood nickname.

“I don’t have crushes. I have lovers, and if that’s what I wanted, I wouldn’t need to go snooping for information to seduce her,” I said indignantly, even though I knew it was a lie.

Ragal diverted his attention to Tasha. “Well, speaking of seductions, I’d like you out of my chamber now, so go spy on your little girlfriend on your own time.” With that, the image disappeared, but not before I caught the sound of Tasha giggling.

Frustrated and aroused, I paced the hallways. It was technically the middle of the night on Vaxivia but mid-morning on Dragselia. My internal clock had never really readjusted since leaving the planet of my birth.

As I made my way back to my room, I ran into Denise in the hallway. She was wearing sleepwear that Tasha had loaned her, a flimsy, gauzy top that was held in place by several thin straps that crisscrossed one another in a pattern along the top of her chest and collar bones. It fluttered loosely at her waist, and when she moved, you could just barely see the smooth skin of her small waist.

She had a perfect hourglass figure with hips and a heart-shaped bottom that swayed in a mesmerizing rhythm as she walked. Still, enjoying the view of her lush body was less dangerous than looking into her eyes. The curious hunger there provoked and challenged something deep within me.

I forced myself to safer terrain. “Where are you headed?” I asked, trying not to notice how sheer her night clothes were in the blue lights of the passage.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was going to drum up a cup of tea,” she admitted. Her hair was tousled and fell carelessly around her shoulders and her feet were bare.

“What about you? Do Dragselians not need as much sleep as humans?” she asked, taking stock of my own dressed-down state.

“I was having trouble finding rest as well,” I said, omitting the fact that it was thoughts of her that had me awake. “As far as sleep, our needs are the same.”

Her face spread into a lazy smile. “Does that extend to other areas as well?”

“Is that a question for your story?” I asked, needing to know what the source of all of this flirtation really was.

She studied me, and when she answered, her voice sounded genuine, her eyes sincere.

“The story I’m working on focuses primarily on the human companions of your brothers and the emotional interest of their participation, as well as the Infernian-Dragselian feud and its implications for human colonies. I’m not looking to create a hit piece or expose any of you to ridicule, if that’s what you’re worried about. If anything, I think Earth Federation citizens should take a more proactive position on interstellar politics. When the wrong people gain power in the right places, their hunger for more power usually only increases.”

I was pleasantly surprised by her opinions and agreed. “What then are your thoughts about Tasha’s desire for an alliance between Vaxivia and Dragselia?”

“I think it could be a dangerous proposition within the scope of Earth Federation politics for an Earth colony to enter into an alliance outside the official diplomatic body, but I think that if EF citizens were aware of the sort of threat that Infernians pose, there would be a public push for such an alliance. My story could raise that awareness.”

“You may have a good point. Is your goal, then, to be a political journalist?” I followed beside her as we walked toward the canteen, the fluttering loose fabric of her garments periodically brushing against my skin.

“I’m not sure what title I want so much as what I want to do. As a girl, when things got tough, I would find a rooftop or a window, and I would stare up at Diana’s Nebula, transfixed for hours as it loomed over Vaxivia. I remember wondering what else was out there, what other worlds there were to explore, what and who I could be if I were anywhere else. I knew there had to be more than the dusty, crime-riddled streets of Steel City and the endless wastes of the desert.”

We had reached the canteen, and I prepared hot water for her. She dropped in tea pellets, and the herbal vapors swirled up and out of her warm cup as we sat.

She continued, “I have always been filled with curiosity and a hunger to investigate and seek information. Ideally, I am hoping to carve a position for myself that allows me to follow my curiosity, wherever it leads me, and most importantly, to deliver truth and knowledge to people.”

The moment had grown more intimate, and I realized how much I enjoyed this quiet, candid conversation, how much I wanted to hear more about her thoughts and desires.

She looked up from her mug, into my eyes, and asked, “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a prince, but you’re exiled. So what happens to you when you reach your exiled home? Can you have a career or occupation?”

“Truthfully, I am not certain. We hear little from our exiled royals, though some go on to form new colonies—with the permission and blessing of the king, of course.”

She studied me. “I don’t see you doing such a thing. You have the intelligence and wit to run a colony well, but you value your independence. I don’t think you would like to be chained to the structure or demands of such a position.”

“You may be right. I’m sure if you asked my brothers, they would say my only talent is challenging them and getting under their skin.”

She smiled seductively. “I’m sure you have many talents beyond that.”

“Well, I suppose I do have a few hidden talents,” I said, sparring back.

“Don’t keep a girl in suspense. Do tell,” she said, wagging her brows as she set down her empty mug. “Or better yet, you could show me.”

“If you insist,” I said, grabbing her hand and loving the way it fit, small and warm, in my own.

I could feel her heart rate spike, and my body felt alive with excitement from the contact. We followed the hall up to the bridge and then further back behind the strategy table into the small, dark navigation room.

“This isn’t quite what I expected,” she said, glancing around at the panel maps. “I thought you said you had hidden talents.”

“I do. Several, in fact. This is just one,” I said, teasing as I placed my palm to the central panel.

The room flooded with blue starlight as the holographic projectors cast us into the space of Dragselia’s star system.

“I have always enjoyed maps, whether it was mapping stars or terrain or my older brothers’ supposedly secret hideouts. Maps evolve. Just as a place is never constant, they are living records that can be expanded, amended.”

“That’s lovely,” she said, smiling at the lights surrounding us. “I feel like I’m floating in space.” She laughed. “Well, technically, I suppose I am. Did you create these?”

“Many of them, yes. I also greatly enjoy astrophotography. I’ve always known that I would one day be exiled, thanks to our flawed system, and it brought me a sense of comfort to create these three-dimensional maps. It was a way to feel connected to my home when I no longer belonged.”

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, her voice full of awe and fascination.

The map shifted, and we were brought closer to the fiery sphere of Antares, the star around which Dragselia circled in orbit. I tapped one of the panels, enabling the absorption spectrometer, and the light fractured into different colors.

Her expression was full of wonder as she looked up and around us. I realized that I had inched closer to her, drawn to the beauty of her amazement, to the realness of her.

Finally, her gaze returned to me, and for one heated moment, it felt like we were worlds apart from everything, like reason and sense were suspended. In the darkness of the navigation room, there were only our bodies, our lips, and this consuming attraction.

She looked up at me, desire written plainly in her expression. I found myself leaning, dipping toward her, and before I was aware of what I was doing, I was kissing her. Her lips were soft and supple and as eager as my own, our mouths coming together in a joyful union.

Passion and lust swelled within me, so long restrained and suddenly set loose. I explored the delicate textures of her mouth, my hands finding purchase at the curve of her hips. I gripped her, pulling her toward me, and I felt her body respond in kind, eagerly pressing against my own.

Suddenly, just as I had begun to feel the raging fire of the passion rising between us, a blaring alarm sounded, reverberating throughout the small chamber.

Denise pulled away, covering her ears, and looked at me with concern. Her concern was not misguided. The alarm that sounded was an alert that the ship was encountering a hostile entity.

I grabbed her hand, and we ran out of the room, racing back to the main bridge, only to see my brothers gathered there. Worry, anger, and shock all warred for priority in their expressions.

“Zaruv, what’s going on?” I asked as he turned to me.

“We’ve entered Dragselian airspace, but it would appear that we are not to be readily welcomed just yet,” he said, his voice even but bearing a tone I rarely heard from him and couldn’t place.

I looked to the screens along the bridge. We were surrounded by an armada of Dragselian warships. We had known we might face some challenges upon returning, but this was a far greater reaction than any of us had anticipated.

The tone in Zaruv’s voice was fear, and for a moment, I felt it invade me as well.