I stripped off the formal Imperial jacket and tossed it aside, pouring myself something strong from the crystal decanter. The amber liquid burned perfectly—evil space princes had excellent taste in booze.
"Fuck me, that was intense," I muttered, downing half the glass.
The palace AI chimed. "Seventeen messages awaiting your attention, Lord Raven."
"Tell them all to fuck off. Politely."
"Message sent: 'Lord Raven is indisposed with urgent Imperial business.'"
Close enough.
I collapsed into my chair and waved at the holographic displays. Time to figure out what the original Raven had been planning. The files materialized—military documents, trade agreements, and... was that a folder labeled "Diplomatic Assets"?
I opened it. Immediately regretted it.
"Jesus, you organized your porn collection by species and political affiliation?" Mixed in with Raven's extensive collection were actual military plans. Conquest strategies filed next to fetish vids. "No wonder you went crazy."
A priority message flashed: "Yo, it's Zek. Racing tonight at the Nebula Circuit. You in, or has being Crown Prince made you soft?"
I grinned. Illegal racing through asteroid fields was exactly what I needed after—
"My prince."
I spun to find Meus in my doorway, and holy shit. She'd changed into civilian clothes—fitted black pants and a tank top fighting a losing battle against her curves.
"How do you keep getting past my security?"
"I am your security." She stepped inside, eyes drifting to my bare chest. "About the princess..."
"Let me guess, she's making moves?"
"Three dinner invitations, two breakfast proposals, and a 'midnight strategy session.'" Her tone could freeze plasma. "That last one's dress code was 'optional.'"
"Jealous?"
"Of that overdressed diplomat?" She moved closer, her scent—gun oil mixed with something floral—making me dizzy. "I'm concerned for your safety."
"My safety or my virtue?"
"You have virtue?" She raised an eyebrow, then realized how close we stood. "I should go."
"You should." Neither of us moved.
"The princess is dangerous," she said, eyes on my lips.
"So are you."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"Maybe I don't want protection." I reached out, fingers grazing her waist. "Maybe I want—"
My communicator buzzed. Fucking Zek.
"You're answering that," Meus said, stepping back with visible effort.
"I'm thinking about throwing it out the window."
Another buzz. Then another.
"Fuck." I grabbed it. "What?"
"Finally! Get your royal ass down here. Time to remind these peasants why you're the king of the circuit."
I glanced at Meus. "Give me an hour."
"Thirty minutes, or I'm telling everyone you're scared."
I ended the call and moved to my closet. "I need to go out."
"Absolutely not." Meus's professional mask snapped back. "You just returned from an unauthorized operation—"
"And I need to blow off steam before I do something stupid. Unless you have a better idea?"
The silence stretched too long.
"I can't show up dressed like Darth Vader's wet dream," I muttered, pushing aside leather monstrosities. "Didn't original Raven own anything normal?"
"Illegal races?" Her voice shifted to dangerous. "You're joking."
"Nope." I found black jeans and a gray shirt. "Want to come?"
"I— what?"
"Come with me. Unless you'd prefer I go alone, unprotected?"
"That's manipulation."
"That's strategy." I pulled on the shirt. "When's the last time you did something fun?"
"Imperial Guards don't do 'fun.'"
"Bullshit. Under all that discipline beats an adrenaline junkie's heart."
She was already reaching for her jacket. "If you die, I'm blaming you."
---
Twenty minutes later, we were in my modified speeder—civilian looking but packing hidden firepower. Meus had changed into racing leathers that should be illegal.
"Stop staring and drive," she said, but I caught her smile.
The Nebula Circuit existed in legal gray areas—built in an old mining complex, winding through asteroid fields and abandoned stations. The parking structure was packed with modified vehicles and bad decisions.
"Lord Raven!" Zek appeared—tall, lean, with glowing blue cybernetics and a troublemaker's grin. "About time!"
He stopped short seeing Meus. "You brought your... bodyguard?"
"Insurance," I said.
"Raven!" A woman's voice dripped false sweetness. "Too busy playing prince to race?"
Korva—six feet of attitude in racing leather, chrome implants, and a sharp smile.
"Still coming in second, Korva?"
"Fuck you." She grinned. "Standard bet?"
"Winner takes the loser's ride plus fifty thousand."
"Deal." She eyed Meus. "New girlfriend? What happened to the Altairian twins?"
"Scheduling conflict," I said smoothly. The temperature dropped several degrees.
As Korva left, Meus turned. "Altairian twins?"
Meus moved toward a sleek racing bike. "Which vehicle are we using?"
"We?"
"You didn't think I'd just watch?" She swung onto the bike, and I forgot to breathe. "Try to keep up, my lord."
---
The starting line was chaos—thirty racers, no rules except 'first one through wins.'
I settled into my speeder's cockpit. This I understood—pure competition, no politics, just speed and possible death.
"Try not to die," Meus pulled alongside. "The paperwork would be awful."
"Careful, Commander. That sounds like concern."
"Shut up and drive."
"GO!"
We launched into madness. The first section was a cargo tunnel barely wide enough for two vehicles. I pushed hard, slipping between racers with inches to spare. Meus kept pace, flowing like mercury through impossible gaps.
Someone clipped a beam and exploded behind us. The shockwave sent me sliding, but I kept control.
The tunnel opened to asteroids—building-sized rocks tumbling through space. I dove between two colliding ones, using their gravity to slingshot around. Three racers who followed didn't make it.
"Mining drones!" Zek's voice crackled.
Plasma bolts lit the darkness. Meus and I wove through like we'd been partners for years.
"Having fun?" I called.
"Best date in years!" She replied, then caught herself. "I mean—"
"Focus!" Korva shot between us. "See you at the finish, losers!"
I hit boost, threading between closing asteroids with inches to spare. Meus matched me perfectly.
The final stretch—a maintenance tunnel lined with sparking energy conduits. One touch would fry your systems.
"I have an idea," Meus said. "You won't like it."
"Try me."
"Kill your engines on my mark and trust me."
"That's insane."
"Three... two... one... MARK!"
I killed the engines. Meus executed a perfect slide, her bike's energy field catching my speeder and slingshotting me past everyone.
We crossed together, tied for first.
I climbed out on shaking legs. Meus pulled off her helmet, hair wild, face flushed.
"That was—" I started.
"Stupid and reckless and—" She pushed me against the speeder. "Fuck it."
Her kiss tasted like danger and promises, hot and demanding. My hands found her waist, pulling her closer as boundaries went up in flames.
When we broke apart, her eyes were dark with want.
"That was unprofessional," she breathed.
"Want to be unprofessional again?"
"Your quarters. Now."
We barely made it to the speeder before our communicators exploded with alerts.
"What the fuck?" I grabbed mine.
The Emperor's face appeared. "Son. The princess has been poisoned. Return immediately."
The feed cut out.
"Well," I said. "Shit."
Game over? Not even close.
But the rules had definitely changed.