SERA
I slam my quarters door so hard the frame shakes.
My hands fumble with the lock. Once. Twice. Finally it clicks into place and I collapse against the metal, breathing like I just ran a marathon.
Which I basically did. Through half the colony's maintenance tunnels with a warlord chasing me.
A warlord whose marks match mine.
No. I'm not thinking about that. Not thinking about the way his eyes looked when he said I was his. Not thinking about the heat that exploded through my body when our gazes locked.
Definitely not thinking about the fact that I can still feel him somehow. Like there's an invisible thread connecting us even though he's nowhere near my quarters.
I push off the door and my reflection catches in the small mirror mounted on the wall. I look like I've been through a war. Hair falling out of its tie. Face pale. Eyes too wide.
And my collarbone is glowing.
Silver light shines through my gray uniform shirt. The patterns pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat. I can see them even through the fabric.
I grab the shirt hem and yank it over my head so fast the seams protest. Then I freeze staring at what's written across my skin.
The marks are beautiful.
That's the worst part. They should be ugly. Should look like scars or burns or something I can hate. Instead they're intricate silver designs that flow across my collarbone like living art. Swirls and geometric patterns that somehow look both alien and natural at the same time.
They glow soft in the dim light of my quarters. Warm against my skin. Like they belong there.
Like they were always meant to appear.
I touch one finger to the largest pattern and gasp. Heat floods through me. Not painful heat. Something else. Something that makes my pulse race and my stomach flip and my traitorous body lean into the sensation.
I jerk my hand back like I've been burned.
This can't be real. Life bonds are stories. Legends. Things that happen to other people in romantic tales, not to maintenance workers hiding on forgotten mining moons.
Except it just happened to me.
Five years. Five years of being invisible. Of scrubbing floors and fixing broken equipment and never standing out. Five years of careful hiding destroyed in thirty seconds because some warlord's marks decided to ignite when he looked at me.
A sob catches in my throat. I press both hands over the glowing patterns like I can somehow push them back under my skin. Make them disappear. Undo what just happened.
They don't disappear. They just glow brighter.
Someone pounds on my door.
I jump so hard I hit my elbow on the wall. Pain shoots up my arm but I barely feel it through the spike of fear.
More pounding. Harder. Angrier.
"Sera." Director Marr's voice cuts through the door like a knife. "Open this door right now."
My stomach drops. Of course she's here. Of course she already knows.
Everyone knows now.
The pounding gets louder. "I know you're in there. Don't make me override the lock."
She'll do it too. She has master codes to every quarter on this colony. There's no hiding from her.
I grab the shirt I just tore off and pull it back on with shaking hands. The marks glow through the fabric but there's nothing I can do about that. They won't turn off. Won't dim.
I unlock the door.
Marr doesn't wait for an invitation. She storms in like a hurricane, her face twisted with rage I've never seen before. Two security guards follow her inside. They position themselves by the door blocking my exit.
I'm trapped.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Marr's voice is deadly quiet. Scarier than yelling. "Do you have the slightest comprehension of the catastrophe you just created?"
"I didn't do anything." My own voice comes out small. Defensive. "The marks just appeared. I didn't ask for this."
"You stupid girl." Marr moves so fast I flinch backward. She doesn't hit me but she grabs my arm hard enough to bruise. "You've exposed yourself. Every faction in this sector now knows you exist and exactly where you are. Surveillance footage of your marks is probably already being transmitted to a dozen different governments."
The words hit like physical blows. I knew the colony had cameras. Knew people were watching when the marks appeared. But somehow hearing it stated so bluntly makes it real in a way that steals my breath.
"The marks proved who you are," Marr continues. Her grip tightens on my arm. "Only royal bloodlines trigger the life bond. It's in every species' genetic memory. The moment those patterns appeared on you, you might as well have announced your identity to the entire galaxy."
"I didn't know that." My voice cracks. "I didn't know any of this would happen."
"Well now it has." She finally releases my arm and I stumble back rubbing the sore spot. "Five years, Sera. Five years I kept you safe. Hidden. Controlled. I had plans for you. Careful negotiations. Strategic alliances that would give humanity real power again."
"Plans?" The word tastes bitter. "You mean selling me to whoever offered the best price."
Her hand moves so fast I don't see it coming. The slap snaps my head to the side and brings tears to my eyes.
"You ungrateful child," Marr hisses. "I saved you. Fed you. Gave you shelter when you had nothing. And this is how you repay me? By bonding with an alien warlord and destroying years of careful planning?"
I touch my burning cheek with trembling fingers. She's never hit me before. Never shown this much emotion. Usually she's all cold calculation and political smiles.
I've shattered something. Some carefully built structure she was using me as a foundation for.
"I didn't bond with him," I manage. "The marks appeared but I didn't accept anything. I ran."
"The marks are enough." Marr paces my small quarters like a caged predator. "The Draev'kyn consider the life bond sacred. Unbreakable. That warlord will never let you go now. He'll claim you belong to him by cosmic right or some other religious nonsense his species believes."
The thought makes my skin crawl. Belonging to someone. Being claimed like property. Everything I've spent five years avoiding.
"Then I'll refuse," I say. "I'll tell him no. The bond can't force me into anything."
Marr laughs but there's no humor in it. "You think refusal matters? You're human royalty bonded to one of the most powerful warlords in three systems. Every faction that wants leverage over the Draev'kyn will come for you. Every enemy he's made will see you as the perfect weapon against him. And every ally we might have negotiated with now sees you as already claimed by someone else."
She stops pacing and turns to face me. Her expression is ice cold.
"There's a formal audience tomorrow. You and Warlord Var'thos. The colonial council is demanding explanations and negotiations. You will attend."
"What if I refuse?"
"You won't." She steps closer. Close enough that I smell the expensive perfume she wears. Close enough to see the calculation in her eyes. "You'll attend. You'll be civil. You'll do exactly as I instruct you during the meeting."
"And if I don't?"
"Then we withdraw protection." The words are casual. Matter of fact. Like she's discussing ration schedules instead of my life. "We announce that the bond invalidates any claim the colonial council had on your safety. We let it be known that you're on your own. Free for anyone who wants to collect the bounty that will definitely be placed on your head within hours."
My blood turns to ice. "You wouldn't."
"Try me." She moves to the door and gestures for her guards to follow. Then she pauses in the doorway looking back at me. "You're valuable, Sera. But only if you're controllable. The moment you stop being useful is the moment you become disposable."
"I'm a person," I whisper. "Not a tool."
"You stopped being just a person the day your parents died and left you as Earth's last royal heir." Her smile is sharp enough to cut. "Now you're a political asset. And tomorrow you'll start acting like one."
She leaves. The door closes behind her with a soft click that sounds like a prison cell locking.
I stand alone in my quarters with glowing marks on my skin and the weight of the galaxy pressing down on my shoulders.
Tomorrow I have to face the warlord again. Have to sit in a formal audience while people who see me as property decide my future.
And if I refuse, Marr will throw me to predators that make the Zha'thik look gentle.
I sink onto my narrow bed and pull my knees to my chest. The marks pulse warm against my collarbone. Through the bond I feel something. Concern maybe. Worry that isn't mine.
He's out there somewhere. The warlord who thinks I'm his. Who looked at me with amber eyes that saw through every defense I've built.
Tomorrow I have to face him knowing that one wrong move will get me killed.
And the worst part, the absolute worst part, is that some traitorous piece of me wants to run toward him instead of away.
Because for just a second in that storage bay, when he looked at me like I mattered, I felt something I haven't felt in five years.
Safe.