Chapter One
Largo Glitzer had survived three assassination attempts, two interstellar wars, and a ceremonial banquet that involved live eels. None of that prepared him for dealing with his parents. Assassins at least announced themselves.
“Largo, you are of age.” His mother said, folding her four hands with terrifying calm.
“I am aware.”
“And yet, you have not even tried looking for a mate. You are the heir to the throne. You have responsibilities,” she continued.
Largo’s tail swished behind him, “Mother, I’m only 400 tics. There is plenty of time for me to mate.”
“You are not in the same position as others your age,” his father said, pacing in front of the throne, back military straight, two arms clenched tightly behind his back. His tail perfectly behaved by his leg. “Time must move faster for you.”
“I have tried finding a mate on this planet. They are not interested in me. All they are interested in is becoming the princess. And I… Well, I have not found one to hold my attention.” Largo explained.
“We are invoking the Selection Rite,” his mother proclaimed, one arm pointed to the scroll that looked harmless on the table.
“The Selection Rite!” Largo roared and grabbed his horns like they were about to betray him.
He had attended Selection Rites before. Had stared at the gold banners and listened to the polite applause while two people pretended not to look trapped.
His father nodded, as if they were discussing the weather and not a thousand-year-old marriage tradition that involved political alliances and people clapping while you tried not to pass out. “We will choose your mate.” He said.
“With respect,” Largo said. “I am… not against mating. Conceptually.”
His mother smiled faintly, as if she had ended a rebellion with a wave of her hand. “Excellent. Then this will be simple.”
“It will not,” Largo blurted.
Silence.
Largo straightened, because if he was going to die, he would die upright.
“I mean,” he recovered, “it will not be simple because I am a complex individual.”
Rubdig, standing off to the side as Largo’s appointed ceremonial witness, made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choking.
“Complex,” Largo repeated, side eyeing his friend before focusing back on his parents with more confidence, because doubling down was basically a royal sport. “With…depth. And preferences. And…”
“And a duty,” his father cut in.
Largo’s jaw tightened.
His father continued, “A duty to your House, to your bloodline, and to your planet. You will marry a suitable member of the noble families. We have already reviewed candidates.”
Largo’s mother slid the golden scroll across the table with the slow inevitability of a guillotine being wheeled into place. He stared at it.
“No,” he said before he could stop himself.
The word echoed in the hall louder than it felt in his mouth. Rubdig made a strangled sound again – this one pure delight.
His mother’s brows lifted. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, still perfectly calm.
Largo took a breath and summoned every etiquette lesson he’d ever endured, every hour spent learning how to bow without looking like a collapse, every lecture about not saying the word no to someone who technically outranked you in the cosmic hierarchy.
“I request,” he said carefully, “a temporary postponement.”
His father let out a harsh laugh. “A postponement. You are not ordering a dessert.”
“I am,” Largo said. Then, “Not…ordering. Merely…requesting.”
Rubdig was now fully biting his fist.
His mother tilted her head. “And why,” she asked, “would we postpone something that has already been decided?”
Largo’s heart pounded so hard he feared it might show through his ceremonial chestplate. Because he couldn’t. Because he’d seen what political marriages did – how they turned people into ornaments. How laughter died.
“Because,” he said, staring into his mother’s eyes, “I would like to find someone worthy.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “Worthy?”
“Yes,” Largo said, standing military straight, shoulders back, tail minding for once by his leg, “Someone…aligned with my values.”
Rubdig made a wheezing noise. Largo refused to look at him.
“And what,” his mother asked, folding her arms in front of her, “are your values?”
Largo paused. His values were: not dying alone in a palace full of expensive silence; laughter, kindness, and someone who didn’t treat him like a ceremonial asset; and not being married to a person whose favorite part of him was his title. But those were not values you admitted to in the Hall of Velvet Judgments. And none of them could be written on a treaty.
So he said, “Honor, duty, mutual respect. And…” He panicked and added, “Good posture.”
His mother stared. His father stared. Rubdig made a sound that could only be described as a violent spiritual awakening.
Largo pushed forward. “I request three cycles. To find a mate on my own. Someone worthy. Someone…real.”
His father’s expression sharpened.
His mother’s voice softened slightly, which in her case was the equivalent of drawing a knife with a ribbon tied around it. “And if you fail, we will choose for you.”
His father raised his eyebrow. “Where do you plan to find this… worthy mate?”
Largo smiled victoriously, “There is an International Space Station one cycle away. A diverse population. A larger pool. I will search among other noble lineages.”
Rubdig gave him a quick thumbs-up. Largo ignored him with professional resentment.
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “A space station,” she repeated, like it tasted strange.
“Yes,” Largo nodded. I will conduct myself with dignity.”
Rubdig snorted so loudly that it echoed. Largo glared at him, but his friend only spread his hands as if to say: I support you, but I am also aware you are you.
His father’s tail thumped once on the floor. Largo glanced at it, swallowed, looked away. “Off-world. A public environment. A…” his father looked slightly ill, “dating pool.”
Largo refused to flinch again. “Yes. A pool. With… options.”
His mother leaned forward. “We will allow it.”
Largo’s chest loosened with relief so fast he almost stumbled.
Rubdig made a victorious sound that was basically a squeal disguised as a cough.
“However,” she continued smoothly, “we have one condition.”
Largo froze. Of course. There was always a condition.
“You will not return,” she said, “with a commoner.”
He forced himself to nod, even as something small and stubborn inside him recoiled. “A commoner.”
“Yes,” his father said. “No station workers, no entertainers.”
“You must find someone of your class,” his mother continued. “Of standing, of lineage.”
Largo’s tail twitched. He forced himself to nod. “Agreed. No commoners.” The words felt heavier than they should have.
His mother stood, which meant the conversation was over. “You may depart at dawn,” she said. “Make us proud.”
“Do not embarrass us,” his father added.
Rubdig muttered, “No pressure.”
Largo turned sharply. “Rubdig,” he hissed under his breath as they walked out of the hall. “You promised not to comment.”
Rubdig held up two hands. “I am not commenting. I am merely…observing your impending doom.”
“I am not doomed.”
Rubdig smiled brightly. “That’s exactly what doomed people say. It’s like their catchphrase.
They moved down the corridor away from velvet banners and ancestral portraits of people who looked like they’d never had fun in their lives. As soon as they were far enough away to avoid being overheard by any of the palace’s emotionally judgmental statues, Rubdig bumped Largo’s shoulder.
You realize,” Rubdig said, “you have just volunteered to go dating.”
“Yes.” Largo said, staring straight ahead.
“With strangers.”
“Yes.”
“From unknown species.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“In an environment full of snacks, scams, and the kind of people who try to sell you ‘authentic meteorite jewelry’ that is actually painted rock.”
“Yes,” Largo said, scraping his horns against the wall, causing sparks, “Yes Rubdig, I’m aware.”
Rubdig’s grin widened. “Perfect. Because I’m coming.”
Largo stopped walking. Rubdig kept going two steps before noticing. He turned back. “What?” Rubdig asked.
“No.” Largo said immediately.
“No?” Rubdig blinked.
Largo folded his arms. “This is a noble mission.”
Rubdig nodded. “Exactly. You need emotional support.”
“I do not…”
“And you need someone to stop you from marrying the first person who compliments your tail.”
Largo’s face heated. “That will not happen.”
Rubdig raised his eyebrows.
“Again.” Largo said. “We were just runts back then.”
“Which is why I am coming with you.”
Largo exhaled slowly. “Fine.”
Somewhere out there, in a station full of strangers, was someone real. He only had three cycles to find them. After that, he would not get to choose.
*******
Would you let someone else choose your future?
