"You exposed us to the Homs! What were you thinking, Melia?" Yumea snarled and leaned forward in her stone seat, glaring daggers at her stepdaughter with her dark eyes.

Melia bowed her head, averting her gaze. Her cheeks burned as the truth reverberated off the stone walls of the throne room, loud and angry. Utterly inescapable.

The throne room was a long, narrow hall made of stone and marble, where at the end was a circular platform upon which her stepmother and father sat on their respective thrones. Palace guards lined the walls, staring straight ahead, giving no indication of their thoughts regarding the public reprimand playing out in front of them.

The urge to cower away from the onlookers pulled at the princess. Melia wanted nothing more than the ordeal to come to an end so she could retreat to her chambers and hide in shame, protected from the sneers and judgments of her people.

"Your father gave you one directive. Do not let the Homs see you. And what did you do? The exact opposite!" Yumea barked.

Tension hung in the air like a dense cloud, and the back of Melia's neck grew hot. Her throat clamped together, but she refused to give in to the emotional reaction threatening to tear away at her resolve. She would not break down in front of her parents. She would not make a spectacle of herself. She would not present any signs of weakness.

And yet, the pain of her humiliation threatened to overwhelm her by the second.

Never before had the princess been in such a position. Any scolding from her father had previously been made in private. A stern talking to. A specific set of duties given to her to teach the error of her ways. But this was different. This was open for the world to see (certainly the guards and servants would spread the word about the event as soon as they returned home). And she knew exactly why. She was being made an example to all of the High Entia. She was being made an example of. Because of her selfish desires.

Swallowing, Melia raised her head and said in a monotone, "I truly apologize, First Consort. Emperor. It was not my intention to disobey."

"Not your intention? It's even worse that what you did was thoughtless!" Yumea railed, unrelenting, "You see yourself as an adept agent of the empire but you are nothing but a mere girl playing at soldier."

The words hit Melia like a ton of bricks; her stomach dropped. It was all she could do not to allow tears to flow. Her stepmother was right. Melia had allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and subsequently had single-handedly put her people in danger. She wanted to be useful to her father and to the empire, but she was nothing but a burden instead. She deserved punishment.

"That's enough, Yumea," Melia's father Soren interjected, laying a hand on his wife's arm. Her stepmother flushed, but settled back in her seat, her hip-length wings twitching with fury against her sides.

"I understand that I am in the wrong here, father. Please tell me how I may make amends for my error in judgment."

She met his eyes, waiting for a response, expressionless. But none came. He stared at her with an equally blank gaze, as if he were assessing her value. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as the silence dragged on. What was he thinking? How would he punish her? Would he order her to her rooms? Send her away? The anticipation was too much.

Finally, he spoke, "There will be no contact with the Homs again by any High Entia. If any should do so, they shall be banished." The proclamation echoed in the halls. Goosebumps crawled over Melia's skin. Banishment on a foreign planet that they still did not understand…that was a death sentence.

"Melia. You are stripped of your duty to guard the Roost. Kallian will take your place."

No. He could not do that to her. That post was everything.

Before she knew what was happening, Melia burst out, "No, please! I will do anything to pay for my mistake, but please let me continue to protect the Roost."

Her father narrowed his gaze and her body clenched tight. It was too late. She should have stayed silent. Or nodded her head in understanding. Anything other than the emotional plea that had sprung itself from her mouth. The words she said dripped with desperation. There was no chance of pretending to be indifferent to the proceedings. Emotion was slowly ebbing out of her and it was only a matter of time before the dam would break.

The idea that she would no longer guard the Roost twisted her insides. It was a huge responsibility; she wanted to prove she could handle it. Not only that. She wanted to be the one to watch over him.

"You have demonstrated recklessness and disregard for the rules set out by your Emperor. For now, you are suspended from all missions."

She froze. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak but Soren put a hand up. "That is all."

The silence in the hall was deafening. It was over, but she was still processing. The princess had been removed from active duty entirely.

"You are dismissed." The baritone of his voice filled the air in the hall.

Slowly, Melia closed her mouth. Her heart raced and her lip quivered slightly. But there was nothing she could do. She was dismissed. End of discussion.

Tensing all of her muscles, Melia forced down the emotions with the promise of releasing them later and arranged her features in a neutral expression. There would be time to process in the privacy of her chambers. Rigid, Melia bowed and exited the throne room.

As she moved through the corridors of the palace, she kept her eyes to the ground, feeling the tears pushing at their backs, eager to slide through and trickle down her already-hot cheeks. Her father had sidelined her. What was she to do? Spend her days embroidering? Sewing? Practicing violin like the noble ladies while others spent their time aiding their Empire? She didn't want to be useless. She wanted to serve the State. She was of royal blood. It was her duty. Her birthright.

It appeared her father didn't care.

Melia beelined for her chambers, choosing the direct route despite the prying eyes she drew as she passed. She could feel them, curious, watchful, envious. There was no doubt in her mind that some would be happy to hear of her punishment. As she flung open the doors and slammed them shut behind her, a voice called out, "It went that good, did it?"

Melia whipped around to see a High Entian woman — her age — with long black hair, dark eyes, and floor-length wings, pop up from her reclining position on the plush, yellow sofa.

Without responding, Melia removed her headband and placed it on a nearby end table in which symbols of the Ancient language were carved into the wood. Silently, she moved from the lounge and into the kitchen to the left, a tear trickling down her cheek. Impeccably clean counters set up in an efficient floorplan greeted her as she went to the icebox and picked out a hand-sized amethyst melon. Without ceremony, she chomped into it, the sweetness exploding over her tongue, bringing comfort as she relived the moment of punishment.

A few more tears streamed down her cheeks as the memory of her father's voice resounded in her head. How had she been so stupid? This was not like her. She had almost always obeyed the rules, and even in those few instances, she had chosen a different course of action than the prescribed one because it had felt right. However, what Melia had done for the Homs man at the waterfall, and then intervening at the Roost had also felt right.

But everything had turned out so wrong. Now her father was angry, her position dismissed, and her chances of—

No. That type of thinking was what got her into trouble in the first place.

Wiping away the tears, she removed a cutting board from a nearby cupboard and knife from a drawer to slice the rest of the melon into manageable bites.

"Guess it was really bad."

Melia did not turn to see her guest saunter into the kitchen and lean on the island next to her. Neutrally, Melia responded, "It was to be expected."

"Good Gods, Melia. Doesn't mean it wasn't terrible."

Pursing her lips, Melia didn't answer and instead slid the plate filled with orange melon slices over to the woman. As the guest eyed the fruit, Melia removed a blue porcelain kettle from under the stove and set it on top. Taking a deep breath, she began fetching the necessary items needed for tea, using the routine to help her regain control of her emotions.

"So what happened? You're keeping me in suspense and I don't like it."

"Your mother was angry. And my father disappointed."

"I know that, obviously. What else?" The guest took a piece of melon and ate it with more aggression than necessary.

The kettle sang and Melia took it by the handle from the stove. Gracefully, she poured hot water into two cups. The liquid steamed as it hit the ceramic, creating spirals in the air above it. A small smile played on Melia's lips. It was a beautiful sight.

"Melia."

Pulled from the moment, the High Entia set the kettle back on the stove and gathered two teabags. The memories of the meeting sprang to the forefront of her mind and she could feel her body tense. Biting the quiver out of her lip, Melia focused on slipping the teabags into the cups without splashing water. With a steady hand, she then dropped a sugar cube into each teacup, and a poured a bit of cream into one. Mechanically, Melia pushed the cup with cream towards her guest. "Do you need anything else, Tyrea?"

"No." Tyrea responded and begrudgingly added, "Thank you. Now can you tell me?"

Clearing her throat, Melia said, "I'm no longer protecting the Roost." Melon plate and teacup in hand, Melia led the way back into the lounge and took a seat upon the sofa that Tyrea had previously occupied, placing the foodstuffs on the coffee table. "Would you please bring the kettle?"

"Not sure why anyone has to do that anyway. No one goes up there. Except for your Homs apparently." Tyrea took a seat next to Melia, slurping her tea and placing the kettle on the table.

Melia narrowed her eyes. "He is not my Homs."

"Sure he is. You talk."

"Our single conversation was in an effort to stop a battle from ensuing."

"Still a conversation."

Melia shook her head.

"Is he handsome?"

"I didn't notice."

"Come on. Don't tell me you didn't as you were pulling him from near death." Tyrea rolled her eyes and set her cup down.

Melia frowned. She almost regretted telling Tyrea about the waterfall incident. Nonetheless, she was the only person Melia could speak freely too. "The key phrase is 'near death'. My priorities were obviously elsewhere."

"If you say so."

"Kallian has been assigned to protect the Roost now."

"Don't be so glum about it. It was a glorified position, Melia. No one needs to protect him. You realize being a Telethia essentially means you're invincible?" Tyrea leaned back into the cushions, slightly sinking downward although her eyes remained trained on the princess.

"We don't know what kind of weapons the Homs have."

"From what we do know, they're just trying to find their Lifehold thing. They aren't interested in fighting the wildlife."

"He isn't wildlife." Melia snapped.

Tyrea sighed, somewhere between exasperated and apologetic. "You know what I mean. He doesn't need to be protected."

"Maybe not from others. But from himself." Melia responded, just above a whisper. She grabbed her teacup and took a sip, grief threatening to overtake her.

"They'll change him back."

Silent, Melia shrugged. It had already been a year and no progress had been made. Of course, she still wished to hope for the best, but as time dragged on and solutions minimized, there was little hope to go around.

"So, what was he like? Dark eyes? Devilishly handsome?" Tyrea smirked and clapped her hands together.

"If you insist on goading me I won't tell you any more about him." Melia rebuked, hiding her blush by bringing her teacup to her lips.

"Noooo don't do that. It's my only form of entertainment these days!"

"If you hadn't so obviously stolen Colonel Hammer's speeder, you'd still be on my guard and not cooped up in the palace."

"I told you. I just wanted to take it out for a spin."

"You took it out more than once. You started an uncensured racing circuit."

"What can I say? I'm a rebel." Tyrea kicked her legs up on the coffee table with a smirk. "It's astonishing I haven't rubbed off on you yet.

Melia shoved Tyrea's legs off. "I prefer to not get into trouble unless it's absolutely necessary."

"How boring." Tyrea jumped up from the couch. She began to amble around the room, passing by Melia's clean desk, the glass door that opened to the balcony, the entryway into the kitchen, and the large silver clock in the corner. "So now what? You're grounded."

"That sounds juvenile. But...yes. I guess." Melia took hold of the kettle and refilled hers and Tyrea's cups.

"Which means we don't know when you're going to see him again."

"Who?" Melia asked innocently.

"The Homs! Your long lost lover!"

Melia's heart flip-flopped and the blood rushed to her cheeks. Images of the Homs man flashed before her eyes: his dark eyes, his muscular build, his gratitude. She didn't want to remember any of these things, but she did.

"Tyrea! That is inappropriate! I will not be seeing him again."

"Of course you won't. And I'll be crowned the next Empress." Tyrea rolled her eyes. "I know you won't admit that you're interested in him. So I will take it upon myself to bring the two of you together."

"No, Tyrea." Melia put her cup down, clattering the ceramic against the wood. It was harder than she wished, but loud enough to get her point across.

Tyra crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "You're being a stick-in-the-mud. More than usual."

"I have no wish to further upset my father. I want to resume my duties in aiding the Empire as soon as possible."

"You don't need to prove yourself worthy, Melia. Everyone knows you're a good princess."

"You know it's more than that."

"And you should know that I am in the same predicament. But the difference is, I don't care."

Tyrea was right. Melia's mixed heritage was the source of her inferiority complex. She went out of her way constantly to prove herself to be a true child of the crown. Conversely, Tyrea had accepted the discrimination and no longer allowed it to intimidate her. But Melia wondered if under the steely exterior that Tyrea still felt the pain.

"I made a mistake engaging the Homs. I have learned from it and will now keep my distance." The words were bitter on her lips.

"What's his name?" Tyrea plopped down on the couch again and leaned forward, locking eyes with Melia.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know."

"You're incorrigible."

"But you love me, stepsister."

Melia looked down and began picking at her fingernails, avoiding Tyrea's observant eyes. "From what I've gathered, his name is Dunban."

Of course, she knew his name was Dunban. She'd spent enough time observing his moves to know this basic fact.

"See? You do like him."

Melia's ears burned and her heart raced. "Knowing his name does not equate with attraction. And this discussion is over." She stood abruptly and carried the teacups back into her kitchen. What was the point in discussing him anyway? There was very little chance she would see him again given her current confinement to the palace and her father's directive for no contact with Homs. It was best if she were to forget him and the whole set of their interactions.

"Oh, come on! You didn't have to interfere at the Roost. You could've let them all die or secretly distracted the Telethia so they could escape." Tyrea called from the sofa.

"Is that what we are calling him?"

"Who? Oh…well, that's what it is."

"Sometimes I wonder if you have a heart."

Silence greeted her comment. Melia bit her tongue, immediately regretting her words. She knew Tyrea had difficulty forming relationships with their siblings. She had difficulty forming any strong and meaningful connections. Melia clenched her hand into her fist and berated herself. It was wrong to throw such a thing in Tyrea's face given everything she had been through.

She cursed herself. This was an excuse for her to lash out at Tyrea since her stepsister had easily seen through her feigned disinterest in the Homs man.

"I apologize. That was uncalled for." She entered the lounge to find Tyrea at the glass door, looking out at the sunset, hands tucked into the pockets of her long coat.

Tyrea did not turn around. "It's fine."

"But it's not. I shouldn't have said that. I know you care."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright."

A pang of remorse rippled through the princess. Shame did funny things to people. And she didn't want one flippant comment to hurt her relationship with her one true confidant.

Melia joined Tyrea by the window, hesitantly laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. The silence in the air blanketed them both, soaking with an apology that slowly cleared the air of any tension.

Finally, Tyrea turned to Melia with a twinkle in her eye. "Sooooo…"

Melia didn't like that tone. "So what?"

"Let's go blow up a Probe base."

"I'm sorry. Did I hear you correctly?"

Tyrea grabbed both of Melia's shoulders, a wicked grin spread across her lips. "Hear me out. We do this successfully, we'll both be reinstated. And you'll be admired for taking initiative. Obviously, I'll let you take the credit because I'm a good older sister, even though I'm doing all of the planning and work."

"No. If we fail it will only anger father more."

"Then we won't! And besides, do you know how many Ganglion recon missions have failed in the last three months? Almost half. Same for assault missions. We do this, those assholes have to sing our praises."

"Tyrea…"

"Fine, not assholes. You know what I mean."

Melia hadn't known that. Of course, she wasn't privy to military discussions. Her rank wasn't high enough. She wasn't deemed strong enough.

"It's too dangerous. Those missions are at least for teams of four."

"You and I are not children. We do not need to be told what to do. The Ganglion already knows we exist. And it's not like we're going to lead them back to Alcamoth. If the mission doesn't seem viable, we'll abort. And we can go see that hottie of yours on the way back…"

"Tyrea."

"Fine, fine. We'll just stick to blowing Prone up." Tyrea put her hands up in surrender.

"We can't do this. I can't do this." Melia shook her head. Despite the tempting outcome of reinstatement, there was too much risk involved with the operation.

"Well...it's kind of too late."

"Excuse me?"

"I already procured all of the gear we need." Tyrea moved behind the sofa and pulled out a large piece of luggage. As she unzipped it, Melia could see that inside were dozens of rounds of explosives. More than enough firepower needed. And there was only one place Tyrea could have gotten her hands on them.

"You stole these from the armory?! If they find out, you'll be thrown into the dungeons!" Melia gasped.

"Which means we should get ready to go," Tyrea zipped the bag up quickly.

"No. You need to return those at once."

"Why? I'll get punished anyway. So I might as well try and do something with them." Tyrea narrowed her eyes and headed for the door. "I'm going whether or not you're coming." She gripped the handle of the bag tight, her eyes locking with Melia's.

Melia stared back, furious. How could Tyrea be so careless? Obviously, it was a cry for attention. But stealing from the royal armory? That was a major offense that even she — with her connections to the royal family — would not so easily dismiss.

The danger was large, no doubt. But she couldn't let her sister go alone. There was no telling what would happen. Tyrea could die because of her recklessness. Someone needed to keep her safe.

"I cannot believe you." Melia snapped. She stomped into her bedroom and grabbed her field bag, checking to ensure her armor and weapon were inside.

When she marched back into the lounge, she saw Tyrea leaning against the door with a smirk from ear to ear. "Think of it as sisterly bonding. Only violent."


A/N: I'm back at school now, so the updates here will be few and far between. I'll do my best to try and fit one in occasionally. Please bear with me. Leave some love :)