We passed Veloria on our way to the planet on which the Dark Station resided, and now, the coordinates were leading us back. Thankfully, it was only a one-day journey, and we all took comfort in that. If this proved to be the final piece of the puzzle, we will be left with more than enough time to reach Daru in time for Jari’s trial. If the council is receptive to the evidence, there may not even be a public trial.

It bothers Takkan, knowing that the threat to his rule comes from his own planet. He does not say as much at first, but I can tell that it does. Hours into our final day, when he at last returns from the bunkroom he’d been sequestered in, I ask him plainly and he answers.

“It’s the opposite of what I suspected,” he explains. “I was sure that it was an outside influence, trying to destroy us. It seemed most likely that it was the work of a Kandalun or Xzerg looking to disrupt our chances of joining the Federation. But now, I find that it is likely one of my own, trying to destroy my planet from within.” He stops speaking, grips hard at the edge of the table he sits at. “I find it disconcerting to say the least.”

There is not much I can say to ease the sting of such knowledge, but I feel my hand moving toward his, drawn there by some strange force I can’t explain. I cover it with my own, fingers brushing over his large, dark blue knuckles and remaining there, letting my warmth bleed into him. “There are shitty people everywhere,” I say. It’s not exactly inspirational, but he keeps his hand where it is for a long time.

When he leaves the table, and I feel the urge to chase after him and place my hand back in his own, I know that I am truly in trouble. As the day ticks on, I cannot banish the feelings from my head. There has always been chemistry of some sort between us, though admittedly now it is less charged with dislike.

We manage to avoid each other for a number of hours, though each time we cross paths our gazes connect just like magnets, snapping toward one another in a way I just can’t help.

I spend as much time with each of the others as I can get away with, asking Sovren questions about the Velorian military and peppering Etto with inquiries about the piloting of such a ship. I spend my evening with Lena in the room we share, making preliminary edits to the footage we recorded our first day on Veloria. She has been my roommate for the duration of this trip. There was room enough for us both to have our own rooms, but there is something comforting about falling asleep to the chatter of someone familiar to you.

“I like him,” she says at last, having obviously noticed the way my eyes keep drifting to the room he is sequestered in.

“Shut up,” I say, but I am smiling around the words. I do my best to ignore the feeling of guilt that tries to make itself known in my chest. I have feelings still for the man I met at the festival. It has been nearly a week, but they have not faded in the slightest.

Despite this, my feelings for the prince only seem to be growing stronger with each hour spent in his company.

I wonder if this makes me a bad person, and try to shake the thought from my mind.

The universe is a large place, and in it, I have met plenty of people who claim to be capable of loving multiple souls at once. I never thought of myself as having similar capabilities, similar needs, but perhaps I do, and perhaps in denying such things, I am only holding myself back. It’s not as though the prince doesn’t know of the attachment waiting for me on Veloria. It will not be as though I’m lying to him.

Hours pass, and this is the thought that sends me from my own bed and to his quarters, slipping past Lena, who has fallen sleep in middle of working, half collapsed atop the equipment splayed across her mattress.

The rest of the ship is fast asleep to my knowledge, trying to grab a few hours of rest before we land on Veloria and dig into the secrets that await us there. Takkan is already awake when I enter the room, sitting on the edge of a bed that has been built to accommodate his unusual size. His eyes lift to meet mine.

“I was hoping you’d show up,” he says. He speaks with the usual confidence one expects of a monarch in name, but there is a sense of vulnerability lurking in his shadowed, silver eyes, as though he expects to me to back out of the room and head back to my own.

I have never before considered that the prince might not be as self-assured as he makes himself out to be. Perhaps it is even a detriment, to wield such wealth and power, as you might assume that anyone close to you is only there to steal a scrap of it for their own benefit.

I close the door behind me before turning to face him again.

“We’ve been dancing around this for days,” I say, when I have finally come to a stop before him. With him sitting while I stand, it is the first time I can recall being taller than him, if only slightly. The vantage point and the loose clothing he wears for sleep have given me an excellent view of the white-tipped spines that run in a perfect line down his broad back. “Maybe longer.”

Takkan raises one hand and grips my own, his thumb brushing over warm skin, examining the natural splay of my slender fingers. “Let us put an end to it then,” he says, and then hesitates. “If you would like?”

“I would like,” I say.

He is so tall, even sitting, that I scarcely need to bend to kiss him. I begin it gently, a press of mouth on mouth, and am surprised, just as I was with the stranger at the festival, by how similar his lips feel to my own. The only difference really is a slight coolness that no human mouth would possess.

I let my tongue lick over his lower lip, a tentative exploration made before I push inside. He leans into it, making my breath stall in my throat, and I get the feeling that he is shocked by my obvious hunger.

It is a miracle really, that we have both kept these feelings under control for this long. I wonder if the feeling was not present, simmering beneath the surface even from our first tumultuous meeting before the interview. His hands find my hips, his fingers so long that they very nearly span the circumference of them.

Takkan moves me forward, reeling me in so that his hands can better explore me. His lips seek my own, devouring me as I devour him, both of us lost to the passion that now fans between us.

His lips may be cool, but it does nothing to quell the heat I feel blossoming across my skin.

Wanting to be as close to him as possible, I give in to his efforts to bring us closer together and climb astride his lap. This gives me much easier access to his body, and I celebrate by slipping one hand beneath his shirt, letting my fingers press into the hard muscle of his middle, my lips skimming his throat. It is not long before we are a tangle of limbs on his bed, so lost in one another that I’m certain the ship could crash without either of us feeling a second of alarm. Hands fumble with clothing. No one’s fingers manage to be deft, though I would have expected Takkan’s to be skilled and sure. I am above him, and able to feel his length pressing against my thigh, growing harder each second as his mouth continues its work against my own. It is different than my encounter with the stranger at the festival, the quickness with which our mouths had brought each other pleasure.

I cannot help but think of him, despite my resolve not to feel guilt. Confused as I am, I tell myself that my chances likely ended days ago, when I did not show up to our meeting. It makes continuing easier.

There is no need to rush here, no dangerous sense of impending discovery. I want us to take our time, and Takkan seems to have similar feelings, despite the hunger that continually grows within us both. It only promises to make things more satisfying when we finally meet in a more intimate way.

We kiss for what feels like hours, skin melding together as we memorize each part of each other. I trace his skin with my lips and he does the same, sucking at the hollow of my throat.

I press my thighs together at the throb between my legs growing steadily stronger. It is not until his hands are full with the weight of my breasts, and my own are reaching down to grip him, that he breaks the silence, filled only by the sound of our heady breathing, gasps and moans, with the sound of speech. It seems out of place, like it does not belong in such a sanctum, and he has to repeat the words a second time before my brain can comprehend them.

“What do you know of Velorian mating?” he asks. I nearly laugh at the question, though I suppose it is well timed. My hand stays where it is, moving up and down, teasing him to further hardness.

“Most things,” I answer. “I know that most of you are born with soulmates—usually other Velorians, but sometimes not. More often now, they’ll be people of another species, what with the shortage of women on your own planet still being repaired. I know that mating—traditional sex—is what forges the bond between the souls. But only if, of course, it is meant to be formed.” I land another kiss on his lips, and rest my forehead against his, so that our very breath mingles. As soon as he gives me the response I am waiting for, I will guide him into the wetness and the heat that waits to greet him. He looks surprised at my recitation of facts, and I pull back to grin at him in answer. “I’m a journalist,” I say. “I did do some research.”

I understand that if Takkan and I mate, a bond may be formed between us; if this happens, it will erase any chance I have with the nameless Velorian. I tell myself that I am okay with this, that I accept it. What I feel for one does not erase my feelings for the other, and perhaps, by some small chance, my soul might be bound to them both. If not, then at least I will know. I will able to discern which feelings are the product of lust and excitement and which are more genuine, more apt to last.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, and it is only when the words have left my lips that I notice how tense his body has become, how worried his eyes. “What’s wrong?” I ask, afraid that some realization has struck him—a new thought about where the ship is taking us and which of his people would want to hurt him so. I even entertain the idea that he is having second thoughts about mating with a human, some fear of the looming possibility of being tied to someone who is not the same species as him. All these thoughts flit through my head as I wait for him to answer, but somehow, the words he says cause far more chaos in my head.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this since you climbed aboard my ship, but I couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject.” His smile is wavering, more uncomfortable than anything real. “I realize this is a horrible moment to choose, but it would be reprehensible of me to take this any further without letting you know.”

“Let me know what?” I whisper. Whatever arousal I had felt just moments ago is steadily draining away. I remove my hand from his cock, staring at him from atop him, legs falling to either side of his waist.

“It was me that you met at the festival. That’s why I acted so strangely when I saw it was you at the interview the next morning.”

The words leave me cold instead of invoking release. For a moment, I do not believe him, and I cannot fathom the reason behind such an outrageous lie. But when he keeps looking at me, staring, as though waiting for judgment, I force myself to consider the possibility. All I could tell of my stranger that night was that he was taller and broader than most Velorians, that the skin of the hands that touched me were dark blue, and that his eyes were glittering gold, the opposite of the silver traced through Takkan’s.

Then again, eyes are easy enough to change in this day and age with the right tools. I knew little of the stranger’s face, as it had been shadowed by the cloak he wore, and later, the dim lighting of the tent. All I knew was that it was a Velorian face and that it seemed to be handsome. The voice he’d spoken with had seemed different than Takkan’s, pitched lower, but perhaps that had been purposeful. I tell myself, lying on top of him, that it could have been any Velorian. What had made me fall for him was the easy way he spoke to me and me to him, the way he touched me with respect, but also like he was not afraid of causing me to break.

He can tell that I do not believe him, that I do not want to, and tries a different tactic. “We talked about the festival,” he says. “You weren’t a fan of the fighting, though you tried to understand it. We discussed where we were from, though you can guess now that I lied about my own origins.” He pauses here, reaches up to cup my face with one hand. I resist the urge to lean into the contact and continue watching his lips state these things instead. “When we were finished talking, we found a tent. You kissed me first, just as you did tonight.”

I roll off him. There is too much of his skin against mine and I regret, for this moment at least, placing it there. I sit on the edge of the bed, locate my shirt in the mess of the blankets while he stares at me, and tug it back over my head, situating it correctly. This small action does not serve to properly distract me from the hurt welling up within me.

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner?” I ask, genuinely confused. “You could have pulled me aside. It would have made for an awkward interview, but there are worse things.”

Takkan sits up while I’m speaking, and then, cautiously, sits as close to me on the bed as I will allow him to get.

“I did not trust you,” he says. “When I saw you that morning, I thought for certain that you knew who I was as well—that the whole night prior had been a ruse to gain some advantage over me, to learn some secret. By the time I realized you were hiding nothing, that you believed the disguise, you were joining us on this mission.”

I blink at him, staring in disbelief. “That means you’ve had days to tell me the truth,” I say.

He reaches for my hand, but my arms are crossed in front of my chest. “I thought that it would ruin any chance I had with you. I realize that I’ve dug myself into a hole here, I and understand if this… changes your feelings for me. Since I met you, in my disguise, I have felt something building between us. Whatever your decision is, please don’t deny that you’ve felt it building too.”

The infuriating thing is that I am more relieved than hurt. I am not a selfish person, hurting two people because I cannot choose between them. The two Velorians that I’ve grown feelings for are in fact the same man. I would feel elated were it not for the lie and the time it has had to fester.

“I won’t deny it,” I say, and his face very nearly relaxes before I speak again. “But I’ve spent this whole trip monumentally confused because the feelings I’ve been having for you are the same I had at the festival. I am… hurt that you didn’t tell me sooner. I feel like I shouldn’t trust you, but I do. And…”

The silence grows thick. This time, when he reaches for me, I do not pull away. All he does is carefully slot his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him as though in apology for causing me anguish in the first place. “And?” he asks quietly.

I tilt my head to look up at him. There are tears in my eyes, though even I am not sure what for. I’ve been so torn between the two Velorians that it feels as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I am free now to feel what I’ve been feeling without guilt and constant second-guessing. I am free to feel angry later, rather than now.

“And I missed you,” I answer, throat nearly closing up around the words. “Even though I felt something for you, it wasn’t… complete without the part of you I already knew. I’d like to get to know the real version—both parts of you together.” My arousal has quieted at the shock of the news, but it has not abated completely. I still feel dampness between my thighs. I still ache to have more of him than I have been given so far.

“Allow me to apologize,” he says.

Takkan bends to the side and kisses me; I can feel my own hunger mirrored in his lips. Despite this, somehow, it manages to taste like reconciliation. I do not understand his motives, not fully, but I still trust him implicitly, perhaps because the ingrained connection between us that might just mean something more. I try to make my own lips taste of forgiveness, of acceptance.

There is a lurch in the ship, a quick, stomach-shifting drop that is not preceded by any sort of warning. Takkan and I break apart, staring at each other.

“We’re here,” he says.

“Etto is an excellent pilot,” I say sadly.