Soulmates? Like… shut the fuck up. There’s no such thing. I’ve been in plenty of relationships with lots of different women and even though one or two of them felt like maybe they had potential, only one of those women is still around.
And her name is Booty.
So no. I don’t believe in soulmates. But there’s definitely something strange going on between Lyra and me.
Add in the fact that just thinking about being away from her makes my heart speed up. And not in the good way.
I think it’s fear.
Which is so stupid. I don’t even know her. She has no clue about me either, and aside from the sex, I don’t think we’re even compatible.
But there’s too much going on today to stop and chat to ALCOR and Crux about this. Crux should be able to give me some answers. He knows more about Cygnian princesses than anyone outside Cygnia. He’ll have opinions.
But first… I sigh. We need clothes for the memorial. And then we need to go see my brothers. Who will have a lot of fucking questions for me, and none of them will have anything to do with Lyra. They’ll want to know why I stole the queen, how Draden and Ceres died, and what we should do about it.
Because something has to be done. Someone has to pay for the deaths of our family members.
An eye for an eye, that’s how we roll.
“In here,” I say to Lyra, placing my hand on the small of her back to guide her into a storefront. “This is where I shop.”
She shoots me a look because she saw my closet. My clothes might not be exciting, but they are custom. And this is where I get them made.
“Raylor,” I say, extending my hand to the man who runs the boutique. “I’d like you to meet Lyra. She needs something in black for this afternoon.”
He takes my hand in both of his, shakes it gently, and gives a very sad look of sympathy. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “It’s so sad about Draden and Ceres.”
“Thanks,” I say, then sigh. “I guess I’ll need something too.”
He pats my shoulder and says, “We will dress you appropriately.” Then he turns to Lyra and takes her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Miss—”
“Princess,” I say, correcting him. “Princess Lyra.”
He nods and smiles bigger. “Princess. My apologies. If you will just go with Miss Alee, she will dress you as well.”
Lyra shoots me an apprehensive look as she’s led away by Alee and I feel the same way.
Heart fluttering, then racing, then pounding. “Um,” I say, reaching for her as she disappears behind a wall.
“She’ll be fine,” Raylor says. “Trust me.”
I nod, take a deep breath, and will my heart to stop this bullshit. I do not love her.
But my heart doesn’t seem to agree. Either that or my willpower is shit today.
“Here,” Raylor says. “Drink this while we discuss what you need.” He hands me a cut-crystal glass of whiskey and I take it. Down it. Then hold it out for another and drink that too.
Helps. Just a little, but enough.
He points me to a long couch and I take a seat as he starts cycling through suits appropriate for a memorial service.
I just stare at them as they go by. Seeing them, but not seeing them.
Draden is really dead. The past twenty-four hours have felt a little unreal. Like it didn’t really happen. Like any minute now Draden and Ceres will barge in here, drunk, or just happy, or maybe fresh from a fight. Draden sporting a black eye and Ceres with new dings and dents on his outer armor.
But when I look at the door, they’re not there.
And they never will be again.
They’re gone.
With Raylor’s constant prodding and help, I manage to choose a suit. Then I get to wait while it’s tailored for me, which only has my mind wandering back to Lyra again. Every now and then I can hear them in the other room. Lyra’s soft talking or Alee’s authoritative opinions.
I force myself not to drink any more, even though that bottle is calling my name. It would be a very bad idea to be drunk for the service.
Just a few hours, Serpint. Just get through a few more hours and then you can drink yourself into oblivion.
Raylor appears, broad smile across his face that doesn’t reach up to his eyes. He was one of the very first haute couture designers to make Harem Station their home. He legitimized us in this regard. Took a huge risk by leaving the Prime planets and hitching his rising star to a bunch of outlaws.
But it worked. Hundreds of eager up-and-coming designers and creatives followed his lead and within a few years, people who were not welcome here wanted to come, just for the fashion and the art.