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Agent Tysea glances at Eden and I catch a flash of disappointment as they look at her. “We originally hoped that Dr. Mori would be able to connect with Lord Nafar at the conference, as a professional peer, and gain his trust that way. However, she…oversold some of her qualifications and we’re not confident that she’ll be able to take on the mission on her own. She kindly agreed to serve as your partner since you still need access to the conference.” I don’t miss the way Eden’s eyes narrow when Tysea says the words “kindly agreed”.

“You’ll be posing as a pharmaceutical rep. Their work involvesnetworking more than medical knowledge, so Lord Nafar won’t expect more than a cursory understanding of the field,” adds Agent Asshole.

This poor human lied on her resume and now she’s stuck as my assistant for an entire week? I shoot Eden a sympathetic smile. “I’ll definitely need your help. I work in marketing, not biotech or health. Though I know my way around bodies pretty well,” I add with a wink at Eden.

A blush creeps onto her face at my words, and I’m momentarily dazed by how enticing she looks with a wash of color on her cheeks. I wonder what else I could do to get her to blush like that.

Maybe there are more perks to this mission than sticking it to my mate. Hopefully, having this pretty human around will make the week more bearable. Because as excited as I am in theory to get revenge on my mate for how he treated me, the thought of spending time with Phelix makes me feel ill.

It pisses me off that he still has a hold on me even after all this time. I hate that the past, pathetic version of me still exists enough to feel the pain of his rejection. That anger and the petty lure of getting to screw Phelix over is enough to push me past the alarm bells going off in my head warning me that this is a bad idea. Besides, I don’t want people to die if he actually is here to sell the data.

Goddess, what did I do to deserve such a terrible person as my mate?

My comm’s muffled ping chirps out from Agent Asshole’s pocket and they fish it out, canceling the alert and punching in something I can’t see. They reach toward me to hand the comm back, but grip my hand over it when I go to take it. “You can’t tell anyone what you’re doing. No one. Not your friends or your parentsor your neighbor’s flesstra. Not even station security. Do you understand?”

“Tell no one that I’m temporarily a badass secret agent and pretending to seduce my mate. Got it,” I say, eager for them to stop touching me and go away so I can process everything and maybe go throw up a little.

They nod and release my hand and the comm. Checking it, I see I have a series of increasingly frustrated messages from Paul asking me where I am. Shit, the embassy opening! He’s going to kill me, I’m so late.

As if reading my mind, Agent Asshole speaks again. “Cancel any plans you have this week. What you’re wearing is a bit formal for the conference opening event, but it should suffice.”

My comm clatters to the floor as my shock makes me lose my grip on it. “Wait, I’m starting this tonight?!”

5

“Is a bioscan truly necessary? They already scanned me when I arrived on the station!” The harried-looking aespian standing in front of me flutters his translucent wings in agitation. He frowns at the stony shikzeth security guard, who barely suppresses an agitated grimace in return. This buffoon complained non-stop about the wait for the past quarter hour, as if it was a personal affront to him, when it’s standard protocol for an event like this.

I give the aespian my best patronizing glare, eager to get him out of the way so I won’t be late to the welcoming event. “As a medical professional, I’d think you’d understand the need for multiple bioscans. Unless you want viral contaminants circulating uncontrolled.”

His antennae vibrate, and his sickly green carapace takes on a grayish tone. Both signs of embarrassment in aespians. Good. He should feel chastised for his ridiculous behavior. “I–I–of course I know the uses for bioscanning–”

“If that’s the case, kindly let this person do their job and quit wasting my time,” I say, cutting off whatever excuses he was about to make. The seladin in line behind me snorts in amusement and the guard gives me an appreciative glance. The aespian is finally quiet and when his scan is done, he scurries away as quickly as his spindly legs will carry him.

Once my bioscan is complete, the guard waves me through into the bustling lobby of the convention hall. The amount of people gathered here is impressive. My stomach tenses ever so slightly at the thought that the finest medical minds from across the galaxy are here. This is my chance to make connections, and I can’t squander it. I run through my mental list of people to keep an eye out for, and with each one, my heart rate speeds up.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to slow down and take it one step at a time before my nerves get the better of me. I inhale deeply, scanning the crowd and then exhale with a soft sigh. Every challenge can be tackled when broken down into smaller steps. I’ll check in, get a lay of the conference hall, andthentrack down the people I want to impress.

A genial ankite at check-in barely contains their shock when I give my name. They keep their composure even when my polite smile falters when I see what’s written on my badge.Lord Phelix val Nafar. As if what I was born into bears more weight than my decades of medical study.

Don’t let it upset you. It’s not a sign that things won’t go well. Just let it go…

“There’s a mistake with my badge,” I say, my tone embarrassinglysharp as I slide it back to the ankite, who now looks distinctly more nervous. “It should say Dr. Phelix val Nafar. My title has no relevance to this week’s events.”

The ankite’s pale orange skin looks moist from perspiration and their features shift slightly, mimicking the size of my eyes and my prominent nose in an unnecessary display of appeasement. “Apologies, Lord—I mean, Doctor Nafar. I will rectify that immediately.” They race off to fabricate a new badge and I don’t miss the tittering between the other check-in workers. Great. I should have just left it be. Now I’m the entitled noble everyone expects me to be.

Corrected name badge acquired, I smile at the ankite and thank them for their help to try to cover for my rudeness, but it doesn’t seem to dull the worry in their eyes. With a sigh, I make my way toward the ballroom where tonight’s welcoming party is being held. The dull roar of conversation guides my approach, and my pulse quickens again at the thought of just how many important people are at this event.

I veer off my course and into a hygiene room. Thankfully, no one else is inside the well-lit, clean bank of hygiene stalls to see my panicked expression. Locking the door behind me so no one else can come in, I stare into a floor-length mirror and inhale slowly through my nose, willing myself to calm down.

Goddess, I’m not getting nervous about being around a crowd, am I? How strange. I can entertain a host of socialites; it’s absurd that the mere idea of small talk with my professional peers is setting me on edge. Nevertheless, here I am, hands shaking and neck sweating like I’m about to jump off a cliff. I frown at my reflection and tug at the stifling, too-tight fabric of my jacket. Would it look too sloppy to unbutton it? My fingers decide for me, undoing the fasteners. Despite the confines of my jacket no longer being an issue, my breath still feels labored and harsh.

My eyes close, attempting to shut out this unpleasant sense of impending disaster. Unthinking, I rearrange the datapads in my satchel. My breath slows slightly with the repetitive motion, allowing me to attempt rearranging my thoughts as well. I shift my self-criticisms to make room for the memories of my sister, Quila, on the day I graduated from medical school. She was so proud of me, claiming I was the smartest nexxit in the galaxy. Along with the most stubborn. Another gentler breath washes over me. My mother’s harsh words are replaced by thoughts of the first delivery I assisted with and the look of pure joy and wonder on the mother’s face as I handed over her newborn.

My breathing begins to even out. I can do this. I belong here, not because of my family name, but because I’ve earned it through work and dedication. If anyone chooses not to see this, well…

Honestly, I’m not sure what I’ll do if confronted directly by the criticisms of my peers, but I’ve been training my whole life to weather the judgment of others. That’s a standard part of life as a nexxit noble. The only difference is that I want these people to like me.

A rattling at the door stirs me from my thoughts. I re-fasten my jacket and check my datapads one more time, before exiting. The door swings open just as I go to open it, and a beige someone stumbles in with it, nearly crashing into me. The human catches themself against my chest and lets out a squeak of surprise.

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