Daemon discovered two things during Court the next morning: that the Matrix conferred telepathic communication between him and Sunny; and that it could be used to keep himself from growing bored. Mainly because he glanced at Sunny and thought with a disgusted sigh, as the spoilt, forceful Princess Shirra postured and preened in front of them,I could be suckling your breasts right now, instead of listening to this piece of crap. Hell, I'd rather you were suckling mine!

Wow...that's better than what I was wishing! And certainly far more legal...

Sunny and Daemon looked at each other, startled.

You heard that?

Youheard that, too?

Wow...cool—I can make all sorts of comments to someone who understands, without fear of anyone overhearing me complain about these...people!

Yeah, but what if we start laughing in the middle of it? Sunny pointed out dryly, returning her gaze to the princess.People would wonder why we were laughing, and it could be politically disadvantageous. Before we're revealed as the new Imperials, that is.

True. Unfortunately. But if I could, I'd still rather be suckling your breasts right now. I can taste your flesh on my tongue, feel the softness of your breast with my lips, tease the crinkled little peak with my lips...

Sunny's eyes widened. Through the layers of her Astorran gown and the bra underneath, she couldfeel lips on the left peak. His lips.You're...you're imagining it so vividly, I canfeel it...

Really? Quick, imagine you're licking your way down my chest, Daemon shot back.

Focusing, she imagined rimming his navel with her tongue. She heard him suck in a short, sharp breath.

...That's not my chest, woman.

She smiled, unable to help herself.But I like your belly-button. It's tasty.

...Are you imagining licking lower?

Yup.

Damn. I'm going to have to stand up in a moment, and if yonder Royal Headache notices...

Let her think it's for her. She'll not get within twenty light-years of you, sexually.

I love you, Sunny.

I love you, Daemon...and now who is lickingwhose navel, telekinetically?

No, he wasn't going to be bored in Court anymore. Or in Council meetings. The hard part, Daemon acknowledged as the two of them played surreptitiously with this newfound power, was going to be keeping their concentration on what everyone else was discussing.

Focusing his mind firmly on the woman standing before him, not the one seated beside him, Daemon smiled, stood, and descended the steps, holding out his hand. "Be welcome here in Astorra, Your Highness. I look forward to seeing you at the Ball this evening."

She eyed his hand, gripped it—and knowledge surged into his head like an influx of water. Blinking, Daemon struggled for mental balance, clinging to his 'royal smile' and polite expression. He felt Sunny poke a mental nose into his thoughts, felt her sifting through the same impressions, and heard her mental sigh. Releasing 'Princess' Shirra's hand, Daemon gestured for her to follow the servants set to escort her and her entourage of about a dozen 'bodyguards'.

I see that pirate problem you told me about earlier is still hanging around, he sighed, remounting the steps of the dais. The look he gave her was a wry one as he settled onto his throne.Only it's being more inventive in its persistence.

Don't worry about it. We're fully integrated with the Matrix, Sunny reminded him, mentally patting his hand.They cannot hurt us now.

No, but they're going to make things interesting, if they do that smash-and-grab I saw planned in her mind, tonight.

She smirked, and licked her lips. Outwardly, it was a subtle movement, just a sweep up and around. Inwardly, anything but. He felt the tip of her tongue racing around the base of his penis in an upward-rising spiral and cleared his throat, nodding to the master of ceremonies to announce the next piece of Court business.

Quit it. I have to pay attention, now.

Make me.

...I'll spank you, if you keep being naughty.

Mm, tempting. Are you going to kiss it to make it better, afterwards?

I'll makeyou deal with this mess. You're going to have to do this sort of thing yourself as my co-ruler, you know.

I know. Sighing, Sunny stopped teasing him through the Matrix and marshalled her thoughts, paying attention to the couple being presented to them.Tell you what; let me practice for the rest of the Court, and you can just tell them what I'm telepathically telling you. And give me advice, too.

Advising my advisor? Is that legal? Daemon teased, nodding his head as the couple stopped at the foot of the steps and bowed to him.

Silly man; if it isn't, just make it into a law!

It was hard, not laughing aloud at that.

...

Daemon waited impatiently as the various guests were introduced in ascending importance. The minor nobles of Astorra, and the major ones, the diplomats from other worlds...and now, finally, their honored off-world visitors. Princess Filini wore a form-fitted, metallic, silver-and-gold dress uniform, representing her people as their Warleader; it was too much metal for her, drawing attention away from her otherwise attractive face. Princess Shirra was clad in laced red leather, and looking a bit sluttish, with her breasts plumped up on display by the tight fit bustier. In contrast, né-Princess Irisia was clad in a rather demure, high-necked, floor-length gown in a rich purple that suited her coloring, her whole demeanor a bit subdued...but then she already knew her status as a né-princess was about to be over.

Queen Nulkuta wore another of those high-collared pieces, this time with a gauzy cape off her shoulders, and keyhole cutouts here and there on the fitted torso of her blue, spangled gown. And—after a bit of argument as to who had the higher precedence, someone with or without the Imperium, and finally going by simply the length of time each queen had ruled—Queen Astrida arrived in a deceptively simple sheath gown made of tiny gold scales, backed by gold-threaded silk. She still wore a face-veil, but it was a scaled half-veil shot through with golden threads, covering her from the nose down. Her dark skin and black hair provided a contrast for the blatant display of skillfully-crafted links holding up the veil.

It was tradition at the Formal Familial Ball for an unwed ruler of Astorra to dance with the five highest ranked guests of the opposite gender first, then whomever else caught his eye, usually whomever he or she found physically or politically attractive. For a married ruler, the Ball wasn't a marriage-mart, but it was still a chance to cement political ties, and so a king or queen would dance with their spouse, then proceed to the top five honored guests. In Daemon's case, he was supposed to start the Ball by going over to the ruler of Ruyika and asking her to dance. Instead, he remained by the knot of friends he'd made while training for the post of Assistant Warlord.

His own outfit contrasted with the military uniforms of his friends; rather than the usual tunic and trousers currently in favor in the capitol, he wore one of the floor-length tunic-robes favored on the Astorran desert colonyworld of Abrol III. Armon had nearly chewed his bottom lip off, trying to find a way to make the transition between Astorran king and Pax Imperium emperor in the middle of the grand ballroom. Underneath the silver-embroidered satin of his dark blue robe lay an outfit that emphasized the swirling lines of his pale freckles. But until Sunny arrived, he would remain hidden in his cowled outfit.

The crowd was growing restless; the native Astorrans knew their king's duty to the visiting Ruyikan queen, but he hadn't moved from among his friends. One of Daemon's companions, Bendron, cleared his throat cautiously. "...Shouldn't the dancing be started, soon?"

"In good time, Commander," Daemon returned, sipping from his drink. He glanced at the doorway for what had to be the umpteenth time since Queen Astrida's arrival.Any minute now...any minute... Sunny, where in Bright Astor's skies are you?

Coming! Sunny's cheerful voice announced in his head. Relief washed through Daemon.Had a snag with the dress; one of the straps on this impossible thing broke. One of the servants wanted to fix it the hard way. Armon finally had to hustle the woman out of sight so I could fix it a lot faster without the tedium of taking it off and putting it back on again, or of giving the game away. Thesaeda staff also think I'm just trying it on so I can seduce you at the end of the night—I swear, Armon could've gotten a job as chief costume designer for the entire world of New Vegas!

Good, Daemon returned. Setting his cup down, he nodded to his friends and drifted towards the center of the room. Queen Astrida's dark eyes flicked toward him, registering his movement. Though he couldn't see it, he was fairly certain she was smiling smugly behind her gold-scaled veil. It was his duty as host to go to her, so she wouldn't weaken her position by heading over to him. But he didn't approach her. Instead, Daemon centered himself in the room and faced the grand double doors, currently closed. Clasping his hands lightly in front of himself, he waited.

Conversations whispered around him, as the courtiers in the chamber tried to figure out why their ruler was waiting.

The door cracked open, and Armon slipped through. He handed the majordomo a data crystal, and flicked his fingers at the other man, clearly urging him to use it. Slotting the crystal into his pad, the majordomo scrolled through the information it displayed. His eyes widened, and he looked at Armon. The chief eunuch gave him a very smug look and a flutter of his fingers, telling the man to get on with it. Flustered, the other servant swallowed visibly, cleared his throat, and rapped his staff on the floor.

Silence fell across the chamber, rippling out from the short flight of steps leading up to the grand doors. After Queen Astrida's arrival, there shouldn't have been any more formal introductions. Not unless someone of even greater importance had arrived unannounced. Daemon didn't bother to hide his smile at the confusion mirrored across the faces around him. Sunny was about to be pronounced his, beyond all contestation, and he, hers.

"Your Majesties, Your Highnesses, Your Graces, Excellencies, and Honorables..." The majordomo's voice squeaked, and he paused to clear it and continue more forcefully, less shakenly. "It is the supreme honor of the Astorran kingdom to host the most notable worthy of the entire galaxy, gracing His Majesty's humble abode with her divine presence. Gentlebeings...I present the Flower of Peace, and the Empress of a Thousand Stars: Sundrea Dannonee, White Dragon of the Pax Imperium Restored!"

The double-doors didn't open...but Sunny did step through them, making the gathered crowds gasp as she phased right through the huge, carved doors, as unruffled as if they weren't even there. Her gown had been fashioned out of white opals and diamonds set in platinum. Fashioned into the shape of a sinuous white dragon encircling her body, it clung to her flesh in a series of starry straps that left enough of her body bare to show off the freckle-stripes swirling down her torso, arms, and one of her legs. With her sun-streaked, auburn curls tamed into a coronet of braids, she needed no crown to compliment her beauty.

Descending the steps with smooth grace, Sunny stepped onto the dance floor. Her gaze never wavering, she let the sea of people draw back from her in stunned, awed silence as she closed the distance between herself and Daemon. Moving at last, he lifted his hand to her cheek, his knuckles ghosting over her skin. His words filled the chamber, though he didn't speak loudly or forcefully.

"That which Cannot..."

Her hand lifted to his own face; with the touch of her skin on his, the navy blue tunic-robe he wore flared and sizzled, burning in heatless consumption as his robe devoured itself from shoulders to ankles.

"And that which Can Be..."

"Touched if by Thou," Daemon offered, caressing her cheek with his palm.

"And Made if by Thee," she smiled, returning the caress.

"The One Chooses the Other."

"And the Other Chooses the One."

Together they recited as his own outfit of a black dragon formed from jet and black pearls came into view,

"What cannot be Touched or be Made—

Can always be Done or Undone!"

Fire seared outward from both of them, spiraling across the floor. The polished parquetry of the inlaid wooden floor changed abruptly from the diamonds-and-stars pattern. That pattern was still there, but now it had been inlaid with an ebony and pearlwood image of the Imperial Ouroboros, centered around the pair. When the light faded, Daemon spoke, recapturing the attention of those who had looked down. His own attention was still fastened on Sunny, but then he didn't really want to look anyplace else.

"She is the Living Light of Astorra, in my eyes. Before her, there were only the shadows of loneliness and the darkness of solitude, in my heart. Within her presence, I am drawn into the sun, for she lights my way. I love Sundrea Dannonee, and I give myself to her, and only her, as husband and lover."

"Natura made male and female, woman and man, to share pleasure and procreate; this is the natural way. She gave us the gift of love," Sunny returned, holding his gaze, "and the urge for monogamy, so that we might raise our families in a stable and nurturing way. This man is Daemon Astorre, Bane of War, Emperor of a Thousand Stars, the Black Dragon of the Pax Imperium; I love him as he loves me, and I choose him as my monogamous mate."

"Witnessed!" Armon's voice joyfully shouted, startling everyone but the pair at the center of the vast room.

"...Shall we dance, wife?" Daemon offered, trailing his fingers down her cheek.

"Gladly, husband," Sunny agreed. It wasn't quite the full marriage ceremony, for either culture...but if the Emperor and Empress declared themselves married before a host of stunned witnesses, who was going to object?

The musicians in the performance balcony hastily picked up their instruments as Sunny and Daemon clasped hands. The music wasn't sultry, but it did start out slow as they circled their clasped hands. A sharp twist to turn them around, and they clasped their other hands, circling the other way. Taking both of her hands, Daemon slotted his body alongside hers, backing her up the requisite number of paces; another crisp moved placed her on his other side, and she backed him up this time. Chest to chest as the tune picked up its pace, they danced in swirling circles, thighs brushing, jewels rubbing and clattering.

Daemon wrinkled his nose.These so-called clothes are uncomfortable, body-to-body. I know they look spectacular, but I'm ready for a change of wardrobe.

Me, too. May I suggest transforming them into silk, or perhaps leather...? Sunny offered, tilting her head slightly.

What, and have you look like that pirate-slut, Shirra? he quipped back, arching a brow.How about velvet instead? It's a very sensual material. Velvet with embroidery, to maintain the definition of the dragon-motif.

Why Daemon, she batted hr eyelashes at him,you're turning out to be almost as sartorially adept as Armon!

I'll get you for that, Daemon muttered, spinning her around and bringing her back into his arms. But in the spin, a silvery-white mist wrapped around her body, obscuring her curves. She spun him out in the pattern of the dance, and a midnight mist swirled up, obscuring his own figure.

Sunny arched a brow at him.What's the mist for?

To comply with Craidan marriage requirements, without offending our prudish Zagrosian guest too much.

Her eyes widened.Right here? Right now?

He smirked, taking her into his arms as the two colors of mists entwined around them.Right now, right here, wife. First, we get rid of these jewels...

The links broke apart, flinging out into their audience as he mated his mouth to hers. They peeled away from her shoulders, zoomed away from his chest, allowing her breasts to rub against his torso, freckles to freckles, tanned skin to light. The diamonds and pearls vanished alongside the polished opals and faceted jet, startling the watching guests when each gem stopped in front of someone, turning itself into a gift. Inside the mist, which now cloaked their bodies from floor to shoulders, Daemon's hands swept down her bared body, cupping her buttocks.

She didn't need to worry if either of them was ready. Just the feel of his rampant shaft pressing against her hip was enough to make Sunny wet. Lifting one leg, she hooked it around his hip, letting him lift her a little bit higher with his hands. A questing probe of that hot, velvety-hard tip, and he found his way inside. It wasn't a sudden thrust, either; no, Daemon took his sweet time in joining himself to her. Once he was seated, though, he urged her other leg up, and resumed the steps of the dance as she clung to him, riding him with each flex of his hips and sway of his frame.

It was a mixture of Astorran and Craidan traditions, wrapped in a sultry black-and-white haze. It didn't matter that they were copulating in the middle of an audience of hundreds, including a petulant pirate-princess and a furious foreign queen. Only a few people realized what they were doing, if the dozen or so flushed faces in the crowd were a reliable gauge, and most of those were the sort of onlooker who would've been educated enough to know or guess what the Craidan lifemate ritual required. Exhibitionistic or not, it was natural to claim one's mate in this way, for all to see.

Still kissing her, Daemon flared his power through Sunny, ridding her body of the contraceptives that had been injected into her blood. Conception could occur at her whim, now, but he wanted her free of the last dregs of her former life as his concubine, and that included the last of the drugs in her system. She kissed him back, sensing his sub-thoughts, and whispered into his mind one of her own.

Yes...give me your seed...plow my field and plant our child within me!

Caught off-guard by the strength of her need, Daemon bucked into her. Sunny clung harder as her own climax shuddered through her limbs. Ecstasy seared his nerves at the pulsing tightness enclosing his flesh. Scrotum tightening, Daemon sucked on her tongue as he poured himself into her; it was the only way he could keep himself from making a sound, and the best way to muffle her own moan of pleasure. Reluctantly, he resumed dancing as their racing hearts slowed. One of her legs lowered, trembling, then the other as he slipped out of her, still somewhat hard but knowing they had to behave themselves until the Ball was over.

It was time to end their kiss. Re-gathering her pleasure-scattered wits, Sunny focused her mind on dressing him in a black velvet version of his prior clothes, and felt him wrapping her in matching white. The mist itself seemed to help, shrinking and thickening, coalescing into their new garments. Finishing the moves of the dance, Daemon caressed Sunny's cheek, brushed a kiss against her lips, and left her to pick out the foremost male in the room, the dumbfounded ambassador of the Pax Imperium. It was time for him to deal with Queen Astrida.

Her brown eyes widened with fear as he approached. Even a Rimworld queen knew that the Emperor could read minds...and thereby uncover any crimes against the Empire. But she didn't have anywhere to run, and the thought of that made Daemon smile. Well, that and what he had planned for her. Stopping in front of her, Daemon held his smile.