The Princess's Cyborg
She has to make choices that no one should ever have to. But her sacrifices will save millions. If she's lucky. Galactic Storm Book 5 Princess Caoimhe has more determination than a n Imperial Princess should have. It will get her killed. Heading straight into the Terran Empire's enemy, the Rhimodian Cyborgs in the name of peace? The danger in the stars is far more wicked than anything she'd find in the palace, right? Maybe not. Because nothing in the Imperial Palace is what it seems. And no one tells the truth about their agenda. Caught between what is right and what is commanded, Caoimhe must make decisions that no princess--no leader--should ever have to make to save her people. Including risk everything against a devious opponent who will stop at nothing to win. Even kill. Bahran is a Tarnished Rhimodian. Because he made choices that went against his people and Master System, he has lost his shine. Fortunate that Harbin's unit accepted him. When the Ambassadors arrive, Bahran is in the perfect location in the escort to witness exactly what happens to the transport. The true attackers, however, do not want him to live to share the information. Bahran finds himself in the difficult spot of protecting himself and his data, and protecting the Terran pod. When he realizes that the pod's occupant was intimately entwined with his data, he shuttles them both to the nearest Rhimodian moon, to get the Ambassador to the peace negotiations, come what may. It may even get him back his shine. If this mouthy Terran Princess doesn't make him crazy. One sight of her, and his Craving burns like nothing he's ever known. And Caoimhe? She's not sure what to think of her rescuer. He's awfully careful. And this is no time to be careful. She knows. She's been careful all her life. series order Galactic Storm Series The Temptress's Cyborg The Lady's Cyborg The Mistress's Cyborg The Virgin's Cyborg The Princess's Cyborg excerpt The explosion radiated. It hit her hard. Slammed her into the white. Everything hurt. And the white was everywhere. It captured her. Carried her. "It was trying to kill you," came the dark voice. Imperial Princess Caoimhe London Montgale Bron woke with a start, her hand on her chest. She felt the explosion this time. The heat. Climbing out of her bed, the princess crossed to her refresher room to splash some water on her face. Get a sip to cool her mouth. She could almost taste the heat from the dream. Explosions erupting right next to a person tended to be remembered. She woke with nightmares about her mother's death almost daily, for the last decade since she'd died. Since her mother was killed. She glanced at herself in the mirror and brushed her dark hair away from her face. She sighed and ran her hand over her face. "A princess doesn't falter," she said. And attempted to erase the emotions from her face. Because it was the only way she was going to survive--if she was perfectly emotionless. As the feelings started to back off, she woke up, and her mind was ready to work. She wasn't sure what she was going to work on, but there had to be something. She was a princess, after all. There was always something that needed to be done. Some correspondence she could answer or some such. A hand-lettered note from the princess was always considered the highest regard, and Caoimhe liked doing it. When she had time, of course. The only time she seemed to be able to do it was when she woke from one of those bad dreams. They put her mind at ease, the hand lettering. She logged herself into her computer and opened her private digital letters. Everything had been through rigorous filters before it came to her, so she was not wasting time on unnecessary missives. Of course, she had daylight hours to do these things, but she also enjoyed doing it at night, when everyone was quiet and asleep. It was all the usual things--would she attend this event or that event. To perform royal duties or represent the royal Empire in this particular ceremony or that. Nothing particularly worthy of a hand-lettered note. She pulled out her calendar and started booking the events into her log so that everything could be accounted for. Some she would have to run by her father. Others would be Bianca, her governess. There were others she needed to handle personally. Her charities for children who had lost parents in the war required her endorsement for a few things. Normal royal duty. One of the digital notes referred to a previous version that she didn't recall receiving. Caoimhe checked her backups and her archived files. No, nothing there. So she opened her trash. There was the initial missive. She returned it to the main folder and glanced over the other trashed files. Near the bottom was a letter from a sender she did not know. She received very few communications that were not from someone she was at least mildly acquainted with. The layers of security that went into all the letters were quite astounding, and her private contact channels were monitored carefully. So very little got past the walls of protection, even if it was sent directly to the trash. It made her curious. She opened the message--a text-only missive. Imperial Princess. You do not know me, but I need your help. She almost stopped right there, for she'd received countless letters over the years that started in the very same way. A part of her wondered about what the latest request for her help could be about. What charity needed her endorsement now? There was a reason it was in the trash section, of course. It had to be a fake letter. Maybe it was the late hour or her bad dream, but she decided she'd indulge herself and see what it was all about. What could it hurt? She decided to check the file's location and origination data. The data revealed no sender, but it did show a general location. She stared at it. Rubbed her eyes. Because if she saw that, it said it was from Rhimodians. The cyborgs that they were at war with. "Oh, this must be fake," she whispered, but she continued to read it. I am a soldier for the Rhimodians. I am contacting you because I have been informed that you are most likely to help. I believe your people have some Rhimodian soldiers held as prisoners. I want to return them to their people. Please contact me so that arrangements can be made. Bahran Caoimhe blinked. "How strange," she whispered. "Talk about a crazy way to bring me into a scam." And she knew it was a scam. Why in the world would the Terran Empire have Rhimodian prisoners? They were at war, yes, but the Terran Empire did not take prisoners. For quite a few reasons, but primarily because the Terran military was rather ruthless. Their "take no prisoners" attitude was well documented in the Terran Empire's history. So why would a Rhimodian think they had prisoners? other retailers