Danai slipped from her seat, ruining the start of a wonderful fantasy. Her body moved with the grace and power of a gymnast. Like a cresting wave. She set her unfinished drink on the bar after one last sip, and smiled at the Davion heir.

“It was nice to meet you, Caleb.”

“You’re leaving?” He’d been refused before, but never so quickly. Almost dismissed. “Don’t you know—” who I am, he didn’t finish. Those words sounded petulant, even to him. Well, if she didn’t know, let her find out on her own what she had missed!

One more offer, though. Just in case. “You won’t finish your drink with me?”

“Not tonight.” She paused, considering. Obviously and almost rudely appraising him. Then: “But you might talk me into it on a more …calm evening.” Her dark eyes shifted, seemed to take in the boisterous party and the band now ratcheting back up into full swing again. “I believe I’ll be back at Galileo’s in a day or three.”

That damn list of the purser’s. “I can get you back in sooner,” he offered.

She nearly laughed. “Oh, I didn’t mean to say I couldn’t come back. I have a permanent seat reserved. I simply choose not to take it every night.”

“Why?” That made no sense to Caleb. What good were such status positions if one didn’t make use of them?

“Never be completely predictable,” Danai said. She flicked a few stray hairs back from her face. “That’s a rule.”

And Caleb rarely planned his social calendar out that far. Not when it didn’t involve state dinners and prearranged publicity ops. But for her… “How long are you here?” he asked. “How far are you going on the Stargazer?”

“All the way.” Danai smiled. “Bound for Terra.”

“Really? I am as well.”

“How convenient.” She turned her smile up by several watts.

Damn. Caleb simply could not tell if the woman knew who he was or not. It was infuriating as well as attractive. But if she wanted to play that game, he’d follow suit. “It could be,” he said, putting a few grams of suggestion into his voice.

It was the first time in their short conversation that a shadow of displeasure darkened her features. She leaned away from him. A few centimeters only, but enough. “Convenience is also something to be wary of,” she told him. “Another rule. Good evening, Caleb.”

He shrugged, as if it really didn’t matter to him, and before she left him at the bar he slid away and sauntered back toward his party. A determined saunter. A going-to-have-a-great-time-without-her sort of walk.

Mason passed him just beyond the secluded alcove. His friend nursed a sweetened gin and a pretty good hangover from the night before. But there was nothing wrong with his smirk.

“Going back empty-handed. Is that going to be a rule for the rest of this voyage as well?”

Caleb thought about a frown, but really couldn’t help himself when Mason was in a cutting mood. He smiled, then laughed, and toasted his friend’s misery.

Danai.

This one time, he’d suffer the ignobility of a tactful retreat. Because with both of them traveling to Terra, it looked to be a wonderful campaign. And the harder conquests were often the sweetest victories.

Hoisting his drink overhead, returning the salute as his party cheered his return, Caleb silently promised himself that victory. He’d make his triumphant debut on Terra in such a way that the tale would make its way around the entirety of the Federated Suns. In what was certain to be the biggest media event in several years, what could be better than showing up at his father’s side?

With the beautiful Danai on his arm?

Terra

Republic of the Sphere

During planetfall over Terra, Julian joined Harrison Davion on the flag bridge of the First Sun. The Excalibur–class DropShip rolled over to bring the cradle of all humanity into view through the ferroglass window. Bright and blue-green and still the epitome of a “perfect world.” Harrison thanked his captain over the closed-circuit comms.

“Duchess Hasek decided to return to her cabin for the landing burn,” Julian said from the door, dogging it after him with a quick-use lever and sharp, metallic ratcheting.

“And Sandra?”

“Begged off for the view from the weather deck. You make her nervous.”

He didn’t have to see his prince’s face to recognize the smile in his voice. “Yes, I suppose I do. But then, it wouldn’t make your charade any easier if I embraced the girl, would it?”

Never try to keep secrets from princes. Julian’s father. His voice as calm and as reasonable as ever. They know such games far better than we do. The way Julian remembered it, Christoffer always sounded as if he pitied their distant cousins, not envied them for it.

“How long?” Julian asked.

He used the handrails to lever himself over to his own seat, opposite the prince from a small command console full of communications equipment. Harrison shook his head, but Julian made no apologies for his lack of “space legs.” He was a Mech Warrior, and only had to be comfortable enough in a DropShip to get from planet to planet. Nothing more.

“Long enough. If Amanda wasn’t so set on the alliance, she’d have known it by now as well. The two of you enjoy each other’s company too much for it to be love. Passion, my boy, means reveling in the bitter as well as the sweet.”

Harrison tamped a shred of tobacco into a specially constructed pipe designed for zero-G use. He rarely smoked anymore, which Julian attributed to Sterling McKenna’s influence. The Khan of the Raven Alliance looked down upon most destructive indulgences as unfitting of a warrior or a leader. But everyone had their nervous habits, and the prince was hardly a connoisseur of space travel either.

Holding a meaty thumb down over the pipe’s lighting stud, the prince puffed with contented satisfaction and the smell of cherry-flavored tobacco drifted across the room.

“Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t too levelheaded,” he said after a moment.

Damned if he did, and if he didn’t. At times, Julian wanted to throw his hands in the air and give up. Fortunately, those times just inspired him to try all the harder.

“I’ve had my moments, as you remember.”

“Yes, I suppose you have. And given the choice, I’ll look for steadfast heart and a good mind anyday. Still, some time spent in… a lady’s company… couldn’t hurt.”

For bluff-and-bluster Harrison to skirt so delicately around a topic felt alien to Julian. Almost prudish. “Uncle… you aren’t asking if I’m still a virgin, are you?”

Harrison choked on his next draw and then doubled over in a wheezing fit of coughing laughter. Julian leaned over to pound the large man on the back, trying not to laugh. If the prince wanted to take a “birds and bees” moment, well, the champion had had worse lectures in his life.

A merry thought that came crashing down as soon as the prince was able to draw breath again. “Faith defend, Julian. That was priceless. I command the largest Successor State and have access to one of the best intelligence services in the entire galaxy, Inner Sphere or Clan. You think I don’t know?”

Julian’s face burned a siren red, he knew. But as much for the honor of others as for his own. He spent a moment collecting his thoughts, staring at Terra. Feeling its storied draw just as certainly as the DropShip was beginning to feel its gravitational pull.

“All I’m saying is… well, there’s time for that later. Never mind, son. Never mind.”

Still, Harrison chuckled to himself for a few moments, long enough for the engines to light off and gravity to suddenly press both men back into their padded chairs. Gravity slowly climbed up toward a full, Terran-standard G as the DropShip fell down over mankind’s birthworld, trapped now by the planet’s irresistible pull. The meridian between night and day—or, actually, twilight and true dark—slid by as the DropShip powered through its deceleration burn and easily, smoothly, rolled onto its back. The darkened sphere dropped out of the ferroglass window, leaving only a handful of stars peering through the faint blue-black of upper atmosphere.