Golden plates clank as the rich elite of Zolan keep their eyes on the table and try their best to pretend War and I don't exist. They nibble on their purple salads, while some brave ones stare. I quickly realize a pair of the brave ones are his parents.

Fuck.

A spoon appears before me, and I realize War is trying to feed me. I hesitate, because his mother is glaring so hard that I think she'll focus on my throat and make me choke as I eat.

Not wanting to embarrass War, I open my mouth and accept the cold, mushy offering. I'm so distracted by everything that's happening on the table that I forget to chew. I swallow and cough so loudly that those that weren't staring definitely stare now.

War rubs my back as I hesitate to tell him I'm alright. As I wave my hand at him, I accidentally knock a vase of water off the table. It lands with an obnoxious THUNK.

I consider taking the nearest fork and stabbing myself in the neck.

Footsteps enter the room, and everyone stands. I realize it's the Queen, and that War didn't bother to stand like everyone else. He's still in the woman's chair, asserting his dominance while rubbing my back.

The Queen takes in the situation, and everyone waits for her to demand War's head. The most powerful woman on the planet looks shocked at first, then annoyed, but instead of shrieking with rage, there is only the scraping of a chair as she pulls one beside War's father and sits down.

"Please, everyone," she claps. "Continue your meals. I prepared this grand feast for your liking." She extends her arms widely enough that her multiple bracelets clank, as if she's trying to show off her wealth and gain back some of the power War took from her.

Not wanting to anger the Queen because they're not as crazy as War, everyone digs into their meal. Chatter picks up, but the laughs seem too forced and everyone faces away from us.

I reach for the vase I knocked down, but War straightens me back up. "A servant will clean the mess."

I really don't like that idea. I can barely stand when Yenni helps me around camp, but what can I do? War is forcing this lifestyle onto me.

When he raises another spoonful, I eat it and remember to chew that time. War continues to feed me and takes a few bites for himself in between.

"Can we go soon?" I whisper to him.

He chuckles. "Yes. I believe mother dearest wants to say a few words to us in private."

A few curse words, maybe.

"War," The Queen smiles fakely. "Are you enjoying my throne?"

"It's my throne now," he chuckles.

She laughs, too, because what else can you do? The passive aggressiveness War emits could kill a weaker woman.

"You are keeping it warm for me, I see."

"I reckoned I deserve this seat more than anyone in here after the decades of blood I've given to service the planet."

"Of course. Of course. Everyone here admires your hard work at camp." She pauses, because she realizes she's losing to him. "That is why I make sure to pay you well."

All this Queen has to offer is wealth. It has solved all of her previous problems, and she thinks that bringing up War's paycheck will pay her out of this embarrassment, too.

"My pay? You mean half of which I donate to The Capital so the beggars don't starve, the orphanages keep running, and the hospitals have medicine? You refuse to look after your people, so someone has to do it." He makes a sound of disgust and stands up, taking my hand in his.

"My future wife and I will excuse ourselves now. Enjoy your foods from the finest gardens, served in golden platters. Compliments to the chef. I could taste the tears of the poor in every bite, which I know is your favorite flavor," he grunts.

Everyone shares a degree of outrage, but War is the King of not giving a fuck. He walks away with me in toll, and I hear a chair pull out. I look over my shoulder and find his mother following us.

"War. A word, please" she calls.

He groans, and I can tell he has reached the end of his social meter.

He pulls me into a room— one used for storage; it seems. His mother follows and begins to rant as soon as the door is shut.

"How could you embarrass me by bringing this... thing to a royal event. All my friends now think that you're entangled with an alien."

"They shouldn't think. They should know I'm entangled with her and dead set on marrying her."

"But War," she whines as if she's the child in the relationship. "You can choose to have any woman."

"I know this," he replies.

She shakes her head, her long earrings making an erratic sound. Is that what entitlement sounds like?

"I will not have this."

"Mother." He takes a step forward, and his mother takes a step back as if remembering who her son truly is.

"You will have nothing if you keep disrespecting her. I will stop paying for your ridiculous, lavish lifestyle. No more clothes or jewels , no more trips, no more housing."

She gasps. "War!"

I hate the way she calls him; like he's an atrocity like his name suggests.

"You are my son."

"No. I'm your paycheck. The only times you checked in on me while I was enduring the horrors of battles was when you needed something from me."

She can't do anything but gape. I look away from her pathetic face, and look at the back of War's head. I want to hug him, because he hasn't gotten enough affection. There are so many scars on his body, but he has had no one to caress them.

"Apologize to Joan, or I'm cutting you off."

She falls to her knees— all five-feet of entitled, leaching, snobby, and hollow woman hit the ground like the vase I knocked off the table.

"Please," she grovels to her son.

War looks down at her, but doesn't move an inch. I feel so sorry for him. I feel the wound his mother is digging into him, because he loved this woman at one point in life and now he is letting go.

"Is she pregnant? Is that it? I know a Healer that can take care of it. You don't have to do this."

I feel a hit in my empty womb. If I were pregnant, she would prefer to have me abort her grandson than become a part of her noble life.

"Can she even give you children? She is an alien!"

"Children or not, mother," he spits on the title. "I am with her for her heart and mind, not for her womb. I have made my choice, and it looks like so have you. Goodbye." War turns, and I finally see his expression. It's ice. The coldest I've ever seen.

"I'm sorry! I apologize. I'll be civil to her, just don't take anything away!"

"If you try to hurt her," he says while continuing to walk toward me. "I will make sure you waste away in poverty for the remaining years of your life, and everyone in Zolan will know about it."

War takes my hand and leads me away from the sobbing woman. I have no words.