“HE KEEPS saying that name. Who is Kylee?” the robotic voice of the PDA asked.

“That’s the princess he sees sometimes, the one who died,” Lenore said. “I bet he’s dreaming about her.”

TAREN WAS dressed in a tuxedo, standing in a crowded ballroom, watching as more and more guests trickled in. He was uncomfortable. So many important people, wearing expensive clothes and even more expensive jewelry… They were just asking for trouble.

He tapped the ear mic with his index finger. “How’re we looking, fellas?”

“Just heard back from my guys on the second floor. All clear,” Jefferies muttered.

“First floor, all clear,” Kim-Sung said, coughing afterward as if to disguise the fact that he appeared to be talking to no one.

“North entrance, all clear,” Montenegro said in his slow, distracted way. He was probably doing a sweep of the front courtyard through his rifle’s scope, watching everything that moved.

“South entrance, all clear,” Simmons said.

The trumpets started. They drew everyone’s eyes to the back of the room and the grand staircase that led up to the indoor balcony along the second story. The princess was about to make her entrance.

“Keep in touch,” Taren said, tapping his ear mic to lower the volume. He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered over to the stairs. The music had faded, giving the couples ample time to finish their dances and rejoin the crowd. Now, princes from all over the planet were lining up around the perimeter to vie for the princess’s first dance of the evening.

The doors at the top of the stairs opened. A hush fell over the crowd as Kylee came out from the dark room beyond.

SOFT TRUMPETING noises. Then an exhale so deep it made lips flap. “I do not like this watching and waiting. I do not like seeing him shiver and moan.”

“I know what you mean. He’s supposed to be Superman,” Lenore murmured. “It’s kind of scary when he starts acting human.”

“Who is Superman?”

A chuckle. “Superman was a hero from a comic book back on Earth. He was an alien, but he looked human. He was indestructible; he was strong; he could shoot lasers from his eyes; he could fly. But he was kind too. And selfless. He was a hero, saving humans from one catastrophe or another. He only had one weakness, and that was this shiny green rock from his home planet. Supposedly, it weakened him, made him human and ordinary.” She lowered her voice to say, “My dad used to tell me stories about him, before they gave me up to the Acadiens.”

Brock uttered a low tuba note. “I see now where the parallel could be drawn between Mr. Taren and this super alien.” The squeaking of bed springs. “I am going to get more of the wet food for him. Maybe he will be hungry when he wakes. Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have some water. Thanks, Brock.”

A SHARP intake of breath. A sudden tightening of his stomach. A pitiful stutter in his heartbeat. But other than that, Taren had become a man sculpted out of stone, unable to do anything but stare. Because even though the dress was one that Kylee never would’ve chosen, even though the complicated braided up-do was probably giving her a headache already, even though the heels were no doubt killing her feet, she looked divine. Midnight-blue fabric with lacey, off-the-shoulder sleeves; pearls sown into the bodice and down the full skirt; dark, glittery makeup splashed across her eyelids; lips painted blood red to match her fingernails…

It was her, but it wasn’t her. He couldn’t stop staring.

Kylee gave a demure smile to the floating cameras and then draped a delicate hand on the wooden railing before beginning her descent.

Taren started to walk—more like glide—forward as if drawn to her by a magnet. Abandoning protocol, he met her at the foot of the stairs. Her mask of regal grace was broken when he bowed to her. Those seductive red lips parted in surprise.

“May I have—” Taren cleared his throat and held out his hand, in that moment offering her his heart and everything he was. “The honor of this dance?”

She blushed, looking terrified, relieved, tearful. “Yes, please.” And she took his hand.

“PLEASE SWALLOW,” Lenore urged, her blurry face appearing out of nowhere. A bowl was held to his lips, mystery soup slopping within. “You have to eat so that I can give you more medicine. Taren? Can you hear me? Taren.”

“PLATINUM, WHAT were you thinking?” Jefferies hissed.

“She looked scared.” Taren snatched a glass of champagne from a passing server. “I had to do something.”

“Queen Miyako’s furious. There are already videos and pictures of you and the princess circling the Network. Various royal families have started calling in demanding an explanation!”

Taren finished chugging his drink and grimaced. “It’s become instinct to step in and protect her, no matter what she feels threatened by.”

“You tell them that,” Jefferies said sarcastically. “Let’s see how well they swallow it.”

Taren fished the mic out of his ear and stuffed it into his pocket.

Kylee was still on the dance floor, in the arms of her second partner of the night. She was allowed to take a break after the fifth and mingle or have a quick bite to eat. He was supposed to walk with her as she spoke with her guests. He had to get ahold of himself before then, or he might do something even more stupid than he already had. Like tell her what he was feeling.

“HOW WAS it destroyed?” the PDA asked over Brock’s soft honking. “The planet where humans came from.”

“According to this game I’m playing, a huge asteroid was predicted to hit Earth several hundred years ago,” Lenore said. “All the scientists from the greatest nations got together and started building colony spaceships in order to save humanity. In the meantime, a group of astronauts were chosen to scour the other galaxies in search of a new planet for them to live on. It took many, many years, but they did eventually find New Sol and Jurthaan IV. It was in the middle of a war, so they made an alliance with the Folinars.”

“Thus, winning the war,” Brock trumpeted. “I see.”

“You can play with me, you know.”

“You have made much progress. I do not wish to hold you back.”

A raspberry sound. “It’s fine. Come over here. I’ll show you how to play.”

“PRINCESS, WE’RE supposed to be mingling,” Taren said, keeping up with her brisk pace.

“I need to rest my cheeks,” she murmured.

He hurried ahead to open the door for her. “Your cheeks?”

“I haven’t stopped smiling since this stupid party started.” Kylee slapped a hand against each one of her cheeks and then rolled her jaw around.

Taren’s mouth twitched at the sight. He shut the door behind them, muffling the noises of the party in the ballroom behind them. They stood in an empty corridor now, which was dimly lit to discourage visitors from wandering the palace.

Kylee leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. “I can’t feel my toes.”

Taren glanced up and down the hallway as she took off her heels, praying none of his fellow guards would show up.

Kylee moaned, stretching her legs out before her.

“Princess—”

“I know. Just…give me a second.” She closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a time. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to celebrate your twenty-first birthday.”

Kylee chuckled bitterly. “Not even close.”

“If it’s any consolation, you’re doing great, and it’s almost over. And you look beautiful.”

Peeking up at him through her long lashes, she whispered, “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Everyone thinks so.” Taren cleared his throat. “Come on. If we don’t get back to your guests soon, Jefferies will have my head.”

“Oh, all right,” Kylee said, pouting while she strapped her shoes back on. She smoothed her skirt down over her ankles once she was finished. Holding out her hands, she asked, “Help me?”

THE SCREECHING of an alarm, like a robotic cricket chirping in agitation.

“Brock,” Lenore squeaked. “Someone’s coming.”

A terrified toot. “Stay with Mr. Taren. I will check and see.”

“The new fission pods you installed should provide enough power to use the ship’s gun, right?”

“Yes, but using it will give away our position,” the PDA translated, sounding calmer than his trumpeting noises did. “Do not be concerned. I will handle this. I will take care of you.” Footsteps pattered urgently away. Then a door was shut.

TAREN GRIPPED her hands and tugged until she was standing. He let go, but she held on. He noted the stubborn set of her brow with concern. “What?”

“You’re right.” Kylee straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “This isn’t how I wanted to spend my birthday. If I’d had it my way, I wouldn’t be wearing this dress, or snacking on sushi rolls, or making small talk with a bunch of people I don’t even know.” She squeezed his hands. Those burnt-umber eyes were piercing, forcing him to look into them. “But, even if my mom had bothered to ask how I wanted to celebrate my birthday, I wouldn’t have told her.”

Taren licked his lips. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to spend it with you.”

The sounds of music and laughter and talking were no longer muffled, but gone altogether. The corridor oozed away like paint dripping down a canvas. It was just the two of them—a princess and her guard, standing on a square of tile, so close he could see where the fake lashes had been glued to her eyelids. He felt as if they were teetering on the edge of a knife. Behind them was their duty, their respective roles in this world, everything he’d been trying so hard to stick to these past few months. Ahead of them was something else entirely—mystery and passion.

He wanted to lean forward. He wanted to hold her, to feel her body against his. He wanted to kiss her neck, that spot just below her ear that drew his eye every time she wore her hair up. He wanted to press his lips to hers and give in. He wanted it so badly it terrified him.

Taren stepped back, jerking his hands out of hers. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

If she was hurt, she didn’t show it. Her hands dropped to her sides. “I wanted to hop on my fusion cycle with you and just go until we ran out of road. I wanted to find a private spot somewhere far away from the city lights where we could see the stars. I wanted to be totally and completely alone. With you.”

Taren shook his head, backed away, pinched the bridge of his nose. Forced himself to say, “No.” Even though his heart, his mind, and every muscle in his body was saying something else.

“I’m in love with you.” Kylee gave a close-lipped smile and a shrug. “I’m in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise.”

“Stop it,” he said, holding his hands up as if to protect himself from her words.

She stepped toward him. “Why?”

“Because it was hard enough not to kiss you while we were dancing. How much harder do you think it is for me to—”

Kylee reached out, grabbed the end of his tie, and pulled him close, smashing her lips against his.

“WHAT’S GOING on?” Lenore demanded.

“I am uncertain,” the PDA said. The robotic voice was amplified, as if it were coming through the communicator speaker in the wall. “There is a lone figure marching toward the ship.”

“Mireling or one of Queen Miyako’s soldiers?”

“Neither,” was the reply. “At least, I think it is neither. It is hard to tell from this distance. The figure is small and dressed in black.”

A groan of bed springs and light, receding footsteps. When Lenore spoke again, it sounded like she was farther away. “How close are they to the ship?”

“They will be upon Mr. Taren’s traps very soon. What should I do?”

“Why would anyone be wandering the desert alone?” Lenore murmured to herself.

Brock must’ve heard her because the PDA said, “I do not know. The figure appears to be holding a scanner of some sort. I will shut off the power, in case it is a heat seeker.”

“Good idea,” Lenore said. “Maybe they’ll just go away.”

TAREN TILTED his head back just enough to break the kiss. “I am so fired.”

“Do you want to stop?” Kylee whispered.

Instead of answering, he gripped her elbows and steered her back until she was flush against the wall. Then his hands were pressing into the wall on either side of her, and he was kissing her with his whole body.

He could feel her through the dress—the shape of her legs, the points of her hipbones, the smooth, flat surface that was her stomach. Her palms were over his chest, right over his racing heart. Then her fingers were brushing the sides of his face, weaving through his hair, gripping so tightly it probably would’ve hurt under any other circumstances.

He released her mouth to kiss her neck. Her skin was rose petal soft, smelling of honey and lavender. Intoxicating. He wanted to breathe her in until the end of time.

“Taren.” She sighed his name, sending shivers rippling down his back. “Tell me it’s not just the dress.”

His lips dragged across her skin as they stretched into a smile. “What?”

“Tell me you’re not just making out with me because I look good in this dress.”

He leaned back to look into her eyes and said:

“Body and mind,

Arrested. Heart on fire,

Unprotected. Tongue of shameful truths,

Unbridled.”

She gasped, tears springing to her eyes at the familiar quote.

“Not fear.” He kissed one cheek. “Not courage.” He kissed the other. “But a woman, / New master of my being.” He kissed her lips. “One smile, one touch, / And forever I’m undone.”

“Oh, stop.” Tears gushed down her face, leaving dark tracks. Her breath hitched in her throat. “How can you remember that poem? I referenced it in an oral report for my literature class six months ago.”

“You cried when you read it.” He used the tip of his finger to wipe away her tears. “I mean, I thought it was a pretty pathetic poem at the time.”

Kylee snorted, releasing his hair to tap his chest with her fist.

“But you thought it was beautiful. It stuck with me. And now…I can’t think of any other way to describe how I feel.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “You’re good at this too. Incredible.”

“Good at what?”

“Telling me what I need to hear. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“I can’t sing,” Taren said after a moment’s consideration.

“That’s okay. Neither can I.” Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him again.

“THEY ARE not turning back,” the PDA said. “They are not turning back, Nora. What should I do? What would Mr. Taren do?”

“Taren wouldn’t want an innocent stranger to get hurt by his booby traps.” A quick tapping, as if Lenore were drumming her fingers on the wall. “But he wouldn’t want us to give away our position, not when he couldn’t defend us.”

“Mr. Taren would want to help this person.” A harsh flatulent sound. “Yes. If this person were lost, hungry, in need of any assistance, Mr. Taren would help them. Even if it was inconvenient. Even if it endangered himself.”

“What are you doing?” Lenore asked.

“I am opening the loading ramp. I am going to help.”

“No! We don’t know anything about this person. They could be dangerous.”

“They do not look like Mirelings or human soldiers. Why would they be dangerous?”

Lenore laughed somewhat hysterically. “Because people are selfish and greedy and evil!”

“Not all of them,” Brock tooted. “Some of them are like Mr. Taren.”

“We can’t risk it.”

“They are stumbling,” Brock screeched. “They are falling. They need assistance. I will help them. You stay here and guard Mr. Taren.”

“No! Brock, please!”

KYLEE PULLED back to give Taren a knowing smile. “This has been fun.”

He raised his eyebrow at her as he caught his breath. He didn’t remember this happening at her birthday ball. This was new.

“It’s time to wake up, Terry,” she said. “Your kids need you.”

“What—”

She raised a finger, pointing at the ceiling. “You’ve been trying to ignore what’s going on with them, but you know they’re in trouble.”

Groaning, he buried his face in her neck. “I’m tired, Kylee. I’m tired and beaten and broken. Can’t I just stay here with you?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You might be a little broken, but they haven’t beaten you yet.” She stroked the back of his head, her long, slender fingers smoothing down his curls. The repetitive motion was soothing, loving, kind. “You can’t keep coming back here. You know that, don’t you? The past is just like me—dead and buried. Stay in the present where you belong, or you’ll end up missing the rest of your life.”

He took a breath so deep he could taste the honey on her skin. If anyone thought him good or brave or strong, it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with this woman right here.

He straightened up, prepared to tell her everything he felt. “Kylee—”

“I know.” She smiled. “Me too.”

TAREN OPENED his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His body cried out to him, drawing ferocious attention to his bruised jaw, broken nose, sandpaper throat, splitting headache, pulsing ribs, open wounds, and sore muscles. His skin still burned with a fever. He grabbed fistfuls of the sheet beneath him and pushed against the mattress. Slowly, he sat up. The room swayed. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard to keep the bile down. When he opened his eyes again, Lenore was sprinting away from the communicator on the wall, toward him.

“Taren, you’re awake! Brock is—”

“I know. Help me,” he rasped, reaching out to her.

She took his arm, pulled it across her shoulders, and hauled him to his feet. Thankfully, Brock had managed to put some sleeping pants and a shirt on him. Taren hoped they’d burned that stupid furry coat thing. Together, they shuffled out of the crew quarters and down the hall.

“How long was I asleep?”

“One full day and one full night,” Lenore said, panting. “But I don’t think you were completely asleep. You mumbled things and ate and swallowed pills when I asked you to sometimes. You tossed around a lot too, like you couldn’t get comfortable.”

She steered him toward the stairs, but Taren shook his head.

“I need a blaster.”

“Can you shoot?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whoever Brock’s letting in needs to know we’re prepared to fight.” Taren nodded to the captain’s cabin down the hall. “There’s one stored under my bunk. Go grab it.”

She left him leaning against the wall and jogged away to do as she was told, her blond ponytail swinging behind her.

Taren focused on measuring his breaths, steadying his heartbeat, gathering his strength. He thought he knew who it was that Brock had gone out to help, but he couldn’t be sure. He had to be ready for whatever happened next. The whistling of the wind traveled up the stairs. The loading ramp was down; the cargo bay was open.

“How long has Brock been gone?” Taren asked when Lenore rejoined him in the hall.

She pinched the submachine bolt blaster with both pairs of thumbs and index fingers, like it was a particularly disgusting bug. “I don’t know,” she said, surrendering the weapon. “Maybe a few minutes?”

Taren gripped the handle with one hand and Lenore’s shoulder with the other. “As soon as we get downstairs, stay behind me.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure you can—”

“Probably not,” Taren said, trying to smile and ending up with a grimace. “Stay behind me anyway.”

She bit her lip but nodded. “Okay.”