I stripped off the formal Imperial jacket and tossed it aside, the fabric still smelling like the Princess's perfume from when she'd gotten too close during our tactical discussion. The crystal decanter called to me—evil space princes had excellent taste in booze, apparently.
"Fuck me, that was intense," I muttered, downing half the glass in one burn.
The Princess had been... not what I expected. Smart, dangerous, and she'd noticed things. Too many things. The way she'd commented on the systems responding to me wasn't casual curiosity.
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 Christ, 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 security alert from three hours ago caught my eye, already dismissed. "Palace kitchens requesting approval for Princess's dietary requirements." I'd auto-approved it while dealing with Father. Should I have checked that more carefully?
Before I could investigate further, a priority message flashed: "Yo, it's Zek. Racing tonight at the Nebula Circuit. You in, or has being Crown Prince made you soft?"
Zek—one of the few people who treated Raven like a person, not a title. A street racer who'd beaten Raven once and earned his respect instead of execution. The game had mentioned Raven's racing hobby, but experiencing it might be exactly what I needed after today's political circus.
I grinned. Illegal racing through asteroid fields was—
"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.
After what happened during the hyperspace jump, we'd been carefully professional all day. But now, alone...
"How do you keep getting past my security?"
"I am your security." She stepped inside, eyes drifting to my bare chest. "We need to talk."
"About the hyperspace jump or the princess?"
Her jaw tightened. "The princess. She's making moves."
"Let me guess—dinner invitations?"
"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 seemed to realize how close we stood. The air between us crackled with the memory of our kiss. "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 of Korva's new ride."
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, ignored the Emperor, and now—"
"And now I need to blow off steam before I do something stupid. Like march back to the throne room and tell my father exactly what I think of arranged marriages." I pushed aside leather monstrosities that looked like they belonged in a dominatrix convention. "Unless you have a better idea?"
The silence stretched too long.
"Didn't original Raven own anything normal?" I muttered, finally finding black jeans and a gray shirt that didn't scream 'I torture people for fun.'
"Illegal races?" Her voice shifted to dangerous. "You're joking."
"Nope." I pulled on the shirt. "Want to come?"
"I— what?"
"Come with me. Unless you'd prefer I go alone, unprotected?"
"That's manipulation."
"That's strategy." I grabbed a jacket. "When's the last time you did something just for fun?"
"Imperial Guards don't do 'fun.'"
"Bullshit. Under all that discipline beats an adrenaline junkie's heart. I saw you during that space battle—you loved every second."
She was already reaching for her jacket. "If you die, I'm blaming you."
"You can blame my corpse," I said, then realized Meus in racing leathers was going to be a problem. My body had very strong opinions about leather and Meus. My virgin brain was just screaming.
---
Twenty minutes later, those opinions were confirmed. She looked like every racing game's fantasy character brought to life, and I nearly crashed just pulling out of the garage.
"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 fucking time! Thought becoming Crown Prince made you soft."
He stopped short seeing Meus. "You brought your... bodyguard?"
"Insurance," I said.
"Right." He grinned knowingly. "Insurance that looks at you like she wants to either kill you or—"
"Zek," I warned.
"Just saying, that's not professional distance, my friend."
"Raven!" A woman's voice dripped false sweetness. "Too busy playing prince to race anymore?"
Korva sauntered over—six feet of attitude wrapped in racing leather, chrome implants gleaming along her arms. Her sharp smile promised trouble.
"Still coming in second, Korva?"
"Fuck you." She grinned wider. "Standard bet?"
"Winner takes the loser's ride plus fifty thousand credits."
"Deal." Her eyes slid to Meus, taking in every curve. "New girlfriend? What happened to the Altairian twins?"
The Altairian twins? How many women had Original Raven been juggling? I'd gone from virgin to managing a potential harem in three days, and I had no idea what I was doing.
"Scheduling conflict," I said smoothly.
The temperature around Meus dropped several degrees.
As Korva strutted away, Meus turned to me. "Altairian twins?"
"I have no idea what she's talking about," I said honestly.
"Sure you don't." She moved toward a sleek racing bike that looked like it could break the sound barrier. "Which vehicle are we using?"
"We?"
"You didn't think I'd just watch?" She swung onto the bike, and I forgot how 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. The muscle memory was real, and my hands knew every control. This body had won dozens of these races.
"Try not to die," Meus's voice crackled through the comm. "The paperwork would be awful."
"Careful, Commander. That sounds like concern."
"Shut up and drive."
The countdown started. Three... two... one...
"GO!"
We launched into madness. The first section was a cargo tunnel barely wide enough for two vehicles. I pushed hard, threading between other racers with inches to spare. Meus kept perfect pace, her bike flowing like mercury through impossible gaps.
Someone clipped a support beam and exploded behind us. The shockwave sent me sliding, but muscle memory took over, correcting without thought.
The tunnel opened to the asteroid field—building-sized rocks tumbling through space in a deadly ballet. I dove between two colliding asteroids, using their gravity to slingshot around the debris. Three racers who tried to follow didn't make it.
"Mining drones incoming!" Zek's voice crackled over comms.
Ancient security systems, still active after decades. Plasma bolts lit up the darkness. Meus and I wove through the fire like we'd been partners for years, anticipating each other's moves.
"Having fun yet?" I called out, narrowly missing a drone's targeting lock.
"Best date I've had in years!" She replied, then caught herself. "I mean—"
"Focus!" Korva shot between us, her modified speeder screaming. "See you at the finish line, losers!"
I hit the boost, feeling the G-forces slam me back. The speeder's displays flickered for just a moment—showing impossible data. Speed readings that hadn't happened yet, obstacle warnings before they appeared. The ship was anticipating my moves, just like every other system I'd touched lately.
The final stretch—a maintenance tunnel lined with exposed energy conduits. One touch would fry your systems completely.
"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."
"That's why it'll work. Three... two... one... MARK!"
I killed the engines. In the sudden silence, I heard my heartbeat as Meus executed a perfect slide, her bike's energy field catching my speeder's nose. The magnetic interaction slingshotted me forward at impossible speed, past Korva, past everyone.
We crossed the finish line together, tied for first.
---
I climbed out on shaking legs, adrenaline still screaming through my veins. Meus pulled off her helmet, hair wild, face flushed with victory.
"That was—" I started.
"Stupid and reckless and—" She stopped, breathing hard. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
"Won a race?"
"You trusted me. In the middle of that insanity, you killed your engines because I asked." She stepped closer. "The old Raven would never—"
"I'm not the old Raven," I said quietly.
"No," she agreed, voice dropping. "You're not."
She pushed me against the speeder. "Fuck it."
Her kiss tasted like danger and promises, hot and demanding. Nothing like our careful exploration in hyperspace. This was fire and need, her body pressed against mine like she was claiming territory. My hands found her waist, pulling her closer as she nipped at my lower lip.
When we broke apart, her eyes were dark with want.
"That was unprofessional," she breathed against my mouth.
"Want to be unprofessional again?"
"Your quarters. Now."
We barely made it three steps before our communicators exploded with alerts.
"What the fuck?" I grabbed mine.
The Emperor's face appeared, and for the first time since I'd arrived in this world, he looked genuinely angry. Not disappointed. Not amused. Angry.
"Son. The princess has been poisoned during dinner. She's alive but critical. Return immediately."
"Father, I—"
"Every second you delay is a second our enemies gain. Someone tried to kill your bride under my roof. That's a declaration of war."
The feed cut out.
Meus had gone pale. "If she dies—"
"The Zephyrian Commonwealth will demand blood," I finished. "And they'll blame me. The absent groom who couldn't even protect his bride."
"It's a setup," she said immediately. "Someone wants to frame you."
"Yeah, but who? And why now?"
I thought about that dismissed security alert. The dietary requirements I'd approved without checking.
"Shit," I muttered. "We need to go. Now."
Game over? Not even close.
But someone had just tried to assassinate my bride-to-be, I'd just kissed my bodyguard in public, and somewhere out there, whoever set this up was probably laughing.
The game had just shifted from easy mode to nightmare difficulty.
And I still didn't know all the rules.
---