Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance (12 page)

Something darkened his expression then, and I could almost see the clouds passing across his features. He gave a solemn nod of his head and rose to his feet, sweeping the curtains aside with one swipe of his great arm.

“What is it?” I asked, following him off of the nest of pillows. “Was it something I said?”

“Not at all,” he replied, monotone. I watched him move around the space, naked save for the crown on his head, and admired the musculature just beneath the surface of his skin. He was carved from stone, and I felt my heart flutter like a caged bird in my chest as I watched him move. He reached a bureau at the far end of the room, out of which he pulled a set of clothing that had no doubt been placed there for him, and began to get dressed.

When I stood up, my gown fell to my feet, and I laced the ties on the front so as to conceal my breasts from view. I joined him at the far end of the room, a beautiful room that I never would have guessed to be a part of a spacecraft. The floors were marble and intricately decorated with a fleur de lis design, and the walls boasted wood paneling and draped tapestries. There was a standing mirror by the bureau and I peered at myself in it, grateful that I hadn’t messed up my hair too terribly. In fact, I looked quite the same as I had when my Europax ladies in waiting had dressed me, except perhaps my cheeks were somewhat rosier.

“We shall waste no time,” Calder said, sliding his feet into his shoes. He looked the part of a king, to be sure, complete with a doublet in black and gold brocade. He tied a thick, black leather belt at his waist and adjust the crown that rested in interwoven white and yellow gold atop his head, before he offered me his arm. I took it, and looked expectantly up into his face. I could no longer read his expression.

“Good,” I said, “I’m starving.”

“I mean,” he interjected, blinking down at me, “we shall send the distress signal.”

“Now?” I asked. “Right this moment?”

“Right this moment,” he tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow and marched off at quite a clip, leaving me to move double-time to keep up. “That is why you married me, is it not? For protection from the slavers that are sure to come to fetch you once we send that beacon.”

“I—”

“So, you are married. You are protected. Why waste any more of our time?”

Ah. “Calder—” We reached the door, and he threw it open with his usual gusto, but I wouldn’t budge.

“Come, madam, let us not tarry—” He urged me forward, nearly dragging me on my bare feet out of the room.

“What? Stop! Calder, would you stop, please?” I tugged him to a halt and he whirled around, fire lighting his once placid blue eyes.

“Why? Why should we stop?” he demanded, throwing his arms out to the side as though daring me to come at him. I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms beneath my breasts, the universal body posture for no-I-will-not-move, and Calder let his hands drop to slap against his outer thighs.

“Because,” I said quietly, at length, “you are behaving like a child and instead of throwing your little tantrum, I am going to demand that you talk to me like an adult.”

“I have nothing to say, my lady,” he all but hissed. “I wish to aid you in your task, as I said I would. And then I would like to go to the feast so that I might have some modicum of pleasure on this, our wedding night.”

“Oh, because you have not taken pleasure enough from me already?” I spat back. “And in front of a crowd of voyeurs, no less!”

“I have taken no pleasure from you that you were not dripping to give me.”

“Ah, yes, I could tell how difficult it was for you to get it up before you fucked me. It was obviously a very trying task for you.”

“Not trying, no, but about as memorable as sliding my prick into any back-alley whore.”

I slapped him before I even knew I’d decided to, before I could register that I’d lifted my hand and made contact with the flat of my fingertips to the side of his face. My hand stung from the force of the blow, and I could see his face begin to color with the imprint of my hand. But more startling than that was his expression. It changed so rapidly, smug and self-possessed, then shocked, then enraged, then contrite, all in the span of moments. He took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply through his nostrils, inclining his head and casting his gaze to the floor.

“I should not have said that,” he murmured. “I do not know why I said it. Forgive me.”

My face burned from the humiliation of his words, and I didn’t realize that my eyes had begun to well with tears until they spilled over onto my cheeks. Fantastic. Now my makeup would be ruined.

Calder looked genuinely distressed when he saw me crying, reaching impotently out in a lame attempt to quell my suffering. “Please, do not cry,” he pleaded, advancing on me and gripping me fiercely by the shoulders. “I am sorry.” And he crushed me to him. “I am so very sorry.”

I didn’t say anything for a long time, I just let him hold me to him, my arms limp at my sides. Eventually he pulled back and stared down into my face, searching for any indication that I could let the storm pass. I gave him none.

Instead, I trailed my lower lids with the knuckles of my index fingers in an attempt to correct the smeared lines of my kohl, and said, “Let’s just go send that distress call.”

By the gods, but I am an idiot.

How is it that the first meaningful exchange I would ever have with my wife ended in an argument whereupon I did no better than call her a back-alley whore? I was sick at the thought of it as I offered her my arm, hoping that she might at least let me escort her.

But she did not, and who could blame her? Instead, she brushed past me, a whisper of silks, and found herself in the corridor at once much colder, much smaller, and somehow much safer than the room of our intimacy. She hesitated in the hall, looking one way and then the other so that her black curls bounced with every movement, until I finally gestured and mumbled, “This way, if you please.”

She set off ahead of me, and I was content enough to follow in her footsteps, directing her quietly as to which corridor she should take, which staircase, which hall, which door. She was content to let that be the full sum of our exchange. She had nothing else she wanted to say to me.

I could still feel the sting of her smack on my cheek as we moved, and I tried desperately to understand the source of my sudden vitriol. I had just bedded my wife. The only one I would ever have. I had just been welcomed back into my kingdom by a people I thought would surely scorn me. I was planning a coronation celebration. I was back.

And yet…

I scowled as I traipsed along behind Lorelei, my mood souring quickly. I had never wanted this. This girl had fallen from the sky and into my life, and I was attempting to make the best of the shattered pieces with which she left me. And if she was going to be cold, then I could be cold right back.

But she moved with such careless grace I wanted to take her hand. I could see her in my mind when she was on top of me, her eyes closing in her ecstasy. I could still taste her mouth. Te’Ovid take her, for she will drive me mad.

I was her king and her guide to the heart of the Spire, even as our wedding celebration raved on without us. No doubt my people were gathered in the great hall, assuming we were still abed, still tangled in one another, and making bawdy jokes about what they had witnessed. Let them joke, let them laugh, and let them enjoy the brief, sweet period wherein they have a Queen.

“We are here,” I said, pushing into a room with a control panel that looked nothing like any of the technology we had in the rest of the village. But Lorelei was right at home. She moved quickly into the space, taking a seat at a black leather chair at the console’s center. Her fingers moved quickly, deftly over the console, until a great screen came to life in front of us.

“How did you do that?” I asked. She did not look up at me, simply continued her quick ministrations over a set of keys and dials.

“It’s fairly primitive technology,” she flatly intoned, but I could see her cringe after she used the word “primitive”. That must be what she thought of this entire planet. Primitive. “I only mean…I grew up using things that are much more complex. This is just a simple menu. It is not even encrypted.”

“What does that word mean?” I asked, drawing nearer to her and peering at the screen in front of us. “Encrypted?”

“Um,” she began, letting her hands drop into her lap. “It means, that…um. Okay, so, when information…?” She paused, canting her head gently to the side as turned to peer up at me. “Encryption is when something starts off straightforward, and then it gets scrambled before it is sent elsewhere. That way if someone intercepts it who is not meant to see it, they can only unscramble it if they have the key.”

“Like a code.”

“Precisely.”

“And this does not have that?”

“No,” she said, gazing up at a series of blue words against a white background, words in a language I could not understand. “Much to my dismay, there is no encryption. Which is why we took the precaution that we did, right? Getting married?”

I nodded.

“Because the Quarter Moon might intercept the message, and there will be nothing we can do to make sure that they cannot read it.”

She highlighted words with yellow, and I wanted to ask her what she was doing, I wanted to understand, but I did not wish to disturb her concentration. She cast a furtive glance in my direction, and I saw her nostrils flare as she sighed. “I am locking on to the coordinates of the nearest satellite, which I will use to relay the signal to the nearest federation vessel, which will in turn relay the message to the
Atria
. They will have the names of the women I am seeking, and they will have my name.” She locked her eyes on mine, and proffered a hint of a smile. “And they shall have your name, Calder Fev’rosk, as the man who did all he could to help me.”

She typed quickly, and I stood stoic with my hands gripped in front of me. I did not like to be in this space. It made me remember this great structure was once a space vessel, and that our people were not made for this planet. It reminded me that all of our women had died off, including my mother, the Queen, Romari Ro’quare. It reminded me I had abandoned my own people at the height of my grief. It reminded me that I had married a human girl, that I had returned to take my place as king, and that my Queen would soon leave me.

“There,” she said at length, leaning back in the chair. “It is done.”

She rose to her feet and I watched how the fabric of the gown puddled on the floor until she gripped the gold silk skirts in two small fists, lifting it just enough to allow her some movement. “Did I tell you,” I began tentatively, “how lovely you look tonight?”

“You did, actually,” she rejoined, but I could see that she was smiling, if only a little. If only for an instant. She moved past me to exit the command room, but I caught her lightly by the elbow so she turned her verdant eyes on me, so full of questions.

“Lorelei,” I murmured, and her expression softened. “I regret our exchange. Deeply. I only—”

She waved a frantic hand in front of her face. “Do not give it another thought.”

“Please,” I went on, drawing her to me. “You must forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” she said, tugging her arm away from me. I sighed. It was not the resolution I had hoped for. But I supposed it would have to suffice.

“Allow me to escort you to the banquet,” I said as she headed out of the room. I followed her like a lovesick pet.

“I am tired,” she said. “I think I would like to go to bed, if that is all right with you.”

“No,” I said, sidling along the wall in the corridor until I blocked her path. “Actually, that is not all right with me. My people are expecting us. Perhaps I neglected to make myself perfectly clear: you are a Queen now, for all intents and purposes.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her. “You are. You brought me back here, and I have allowed them to put me into the position I had shirked for so long, a position I never thought they would want me to take up again. But they did, and I have. And you are my wife, and you are their Queen.”

“And what shall you tell them when the
Atria
arrives? What shall you tell them when I board that vessel? Because I will have to board that vessel, Calder. You do know that, do you not?” She peered up at me with eyes pleading for me to understand.

“Yes, but—”

“But what?” she said, her shoulders high up at her ears, her hands winged out to the sides. “You hoped, what, that I would decide to stay? To just give up trying to rescue my friends? Because I cannot just leave them to rot on that godforsaken slave ship, Calder. I can not, and I will not.”

“I understand that,” I said, my voice a little stronger, a little louder, “I understand that you will board that vessel, complete the mission you set out to complete. I understand all that.”

“Then why are you treating me as though I’m abandoning you and your people?” She raised her voice to match my own.

“Because I thought you might come back!” I all but shouted, my voice ringing off the metal walls around us. She wilted like an autumn flower, and fell into a lean against the wall, not looking at me. “At least,” I went on, my tone decidedly softer, “I hoped you would.”

I watched her as she ran her tongue thoughtfully over her pink lips, then draw in a deep breath as though she had decided to say something. But just as she parted her lips to speak, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the corridor and we both turned.

“Calder?” It was Waelden, dressed in all his finery, with a grumpy Vanixa by his side. “There you are. When we saw that the chamber door was ajar, but that you were not at the feast, we sent out a small search party for you.” He beamed at us, thinking nothing was amiss, and I tried to smile back at my old friend. “Will you not come to your own wedding feast, my friend?”

I cast a silent glance to Lorelei and offered her my arm. And with a thin smile, she took it, and we followed Waelden and Vanixa to the banquet hall.

I had to admit, they decorated the banquet hall beautifully for the occasion. Although the Spire was outfitted with electric light, they did not bother to use it for this particular event. Candles adorned every spare surface, casting the room in a warm, elegant glow. There were cut flowers: mooetha blooms in bright red, cordana green sprouts, and Kahl’Tari’s lace. There were two long tables on either side of an empty dance floor, but our table — mine and Lorelei’s — was at the center with two great chairs settled close to one another.