Dalton Greaves is a hero. He's one of humankind's first representatives to Unity, a pan-species confederation working to bring all sentient life into a single benevolent brotherhood.

That's what they told him, anyway. The only actual members of Unity that he's ever met are Boreau, a giant snail who seems more interested in plunder than spreading love and harmony, and Boreau's human sidekick, Neera, who Dalton strongly suspects roped him into this gig so that she wouldn't become the next one of Boreau's crew to get eaten by locals while prospecting.

Funny thing, though—turns out there actually is a benevolent confederation out there, working for the good of all life. They call themselves the Assembly, and they really don't like Unity. More to the point, they really, really don't like Unity's new human minions.

When an encounter between Boreau's scout ship and an Assembly cruiser over a newly discovered world ends badly for both parties, Dalton finds himself marooned, caught between a stickman, one of the Assembly's nightmarish shock troops, the planet's natives, who aren't winning any congeniality prizes themselves, and Neera, who might actually be the most dangerous of the three. To survive, he'll need to navigate palace intrigue, alien morality, and a proposal that he literally cannot refuse, all while making sure Neera doesn't come to the conclusion that he's worth more to her dead than alive.

Part first contact story, part dark comedy, and part bizarre love triangle, The Fourth Consort asks an important question: how far would you go to survive? And more importantly, how many drinks would you need to go there?