Hero's Bride (Alien SciFi Romance) (Celestial Mates Book 7)

by C. J. Scarlett

  “We make things which are beautiful,” he explained. “As you are beautiful, Shay.” A compliment. Nice try, I wanted to say, but my body was still a slave to the training and the will of the Ak-hal.

  “Thank you, my prince.” It came from my lips, unbidden. My emotions were at war with each other within the prison that my body had become. On one hand, I was relieved—I wouldn’t die in two weeks. On the other, for the rest of my very long and healthy existence, I would spend it with this being, whose core was made of ice and mithrim. He leaned in, his glittering eyes close to my own. He kissed me on the lips. I found myself responding, no, not myself—my body responding. Inside, I screaming in fear and loathing. The Ak-hal had created a cage, and I was helplessly trapped within it, like a bright bird, desperately beating against the bars.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, I had just returned from the communal bathroom and stood before the mirror in my room, putting my hair up. At the soft knock at the door, I turned to find a small girl came to the dormitory-style bedroom where I had been placed. Because I was to be a crown princess, I was given my own. It had white walls of mithrim and a blue stone floor covered in a thick purple carpet. It had a small, soft bed, piled with thick, woven blankets. There had been a Kamani pelt, as well, but I had folded it and placed it on a side table.

  The night before, it had been heaven to find myself alone. It gave me time to think, and to be quiet within myself. This morning, it had been awkward. All of the other women shared one large room. They had all gone quiet when I had entered the communal bathroom.

  “The queen requests an audience,” the girl said softly. She was a beautiful child—obviously the product of a human and Ak-hal union. She had the cold features of the Ak-hal with the darker skin of a human. Her eyes were like the Ak-hal—empty of emotion. She was dressed in white with gold ribbons at the collar and sleeves. I wondered at the thought that I hadn’t seen any children. I wanted to ask her where she was kept, but I felt like I wouldn’t get a forthcoming answer from her.

  “Can you show me the way?” I asked, unsure of where to go. Everything within the palace, so far, had appeared uniform. If she gave me directions, surely I would become hopelessly lost. She said nothing, merely nodding. She waited until I walked to the door, then she walked away in silence. I followed her, trying to mark the passages. They all looked the same—mithrim, no decorations, same blue stone floor. Even the placement of the windows seemed the same. I had no time for a better study of them; the girl walked so quickly, her tiny feet not making a sound. I had to hurry to keep up.

  At last, we came to a door made of mithrim, with ornate carvings etched within the surface. The girl knocked, then a call from within. She opened the door and stepped aside to let me in.

  Sarita sat inside on a large black velvet armchair. Her feet were placed on top of a large paisley ottoman. The walls were painted a deep, blood red. It seemed out of place. Here, Sarita showed her humanness—a need for color, pattern. A fire roared in an elegantly simple fireplace. Tapestries hung on the walls. From a brief glance, I could tell that they depicted the Ak-hal. I would now recognize that straight-backed form anywhere. I stood in front of Sarita, silently waiting for her direction. She looked up from the needlepoint that she held in her lap. She frowned at me, her expression twisting in anger.

  “Kneel,” she commanded, and my captive body obeyed instantly. I felt the full weight of her authority as I looked up at her from the floor.

  “There are things that you must know as crown princess.” She didn’t look up from the needlepoint.

  “I didn’t learn everything while in stasis?”

  “You must not speak unless spoken to,” she snapped. My mouth clamped shut, meanwhile I seethed inside. “We had to be sure that Moranen would take you.” She paused a moment, letting the idea that Moranen was my savior in this matter sink in.

  “If the king dies in the upcoming campaign against the Kamani, then you will take my place,” she said. “This may never happen, as immortality can only end with grievous injury. The king is well protected.” She paused. Dramatic pauses seemed to be her thing.

  “Your job is to produce an heir.” She looked at me, and my head nodded of its own accord. My stomach flipped sickly. I was to be a brood mare.

  “You will accompany my son around the castle on business. We have many things that need to happen prior to our campaign against the Kamani. Rumor has it that they want to make an alliance. We will grant it, but we will use it to betray them. It’s most important that we take over rule of the Kamani.”

  “Why?” I asked because she wanted me to.

  “We must rule this planet. The Kamani control its resources, including the Sky Jewel. The Ak-hal were meant to rule.” I could see where this was going. It was likely that the Ak-hal had taken over rule of their last planet—which they promptly destroyed along with their women. I wanted to know how that happened, was dying to ask, but it seemed that Sarita had no inclination for discussing that.

  “The Kamani are weak. They are meant to be dominated. In my culture on Earth, there were castes, ordained by the gods. The Brahmin were meant to rule, just as the Untouchables were meant to have nothing.” The way that she said it, it was with bitter resignation. So, she was of the lowest caste in her human life. That must have sucked. I didn’t feel particularly sorry for her, to be honest. She was cold and cruel, like her adopted people. “It’s the same with the Ak-hal and the Kamani.”

  “My son will lead the first campaign against the Kamani. As soon as you are mated, you must produce an heir. It’s of the utmost importance. If you fail to do so, you will be executed with the next mating ritual.”

  “Do you have any other sons?” I asked. She looked up from her work sharply.

  “Of course. I have five sons. Moranen is my oldest. If he dies in the campaign, however, you will not be saved for the next son. You will be discarded.” My heart pounded in fear. I folded my hands on my lap to hide their shaking. Wherever I looked—up, down, left, right—there was another wall. It seemed as though I were feeling my way around like I had when I first awoke in the ship—the door was hidden from me, somewhere. It would appear where I least expected it.

  Chapter 5

  I walked, back straight, chin raised, my hand tucked in Moranen’s arm. We glided down the hallway of the castle. Groups of women and Ak-hal passed us, their faces angled downward in respect. I was dressed that day in bright crimson silk, the color of blood, and the sleeves spilled over my hands. I wore a thick cloak, woven of soft, scarlet yarn. I was relieved to not be wearing the skin of a Kamani. My hair was pulled back into a tight bun beneath my sun-like crown. I had been wearing it so often that my neck ached from its weight. We were stopped by a raven-haired Ak-hal who had a young, haughty-looking woman hanging onto his arm.

  “Moranen,” the Ak-hal greeted. “I see you have found your mate.”

  “And you yours, Bahir,” Moranen said. You would think from their tone that they were discussing a new plaything. Baseball cards. Video games. I had to remind myself that those things didn’t exist here. I nodded to the other woman. She stared at me.

  “This is Libba,” Bahir said. He wore the red sash of a noble. Libba looked at me with a delicate smile. She took her hand from Bahir’s arm, and transferred it to mine. We walked down the hall, in front of our soon-to-be mates.

  “How do you like it here?” she asked me. She seemed as cold as an Ak-hal. Immediately, I mistrusted her.

  “Not at all,” I replied honestly, testing her loyalty. She looked at me, her eyebrow crooked.

  “You will,” she said confidently. “Everyone ends up liking it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Who wouldn’t jump at the chance for immortality?” she shrugged. “My new dresses are beautiful and Bahir treats me like a princess. He has promised me that I will always be dripping with jewels.”

  We had entered the great hall filled with circular tables. There was
one off to the side, where a bunch of women sat in total silence. I looked at them, frowning. Libba noticed.

  “Those are the ones without mates,” she said disdainfully. “They have nothing that is worth the Ak-hal’s time.”

  “Then why were they taken?” It seemed pointless, a waste of innocent lives. I sat down at a table beside Libba. She unfolded the cloth napkin set on her plate, pressing it flat in her lap with a flourish.

  “It must have been a mistake,” she shrugged. It clearly didn’t concern her that it might easily have been her sitting at that table.

  “But five of them?” I said incredulously. I looked over at Moranen. “Why haven’t they found mates?”

  “It happens,” he replied vaguely.

  “Shouldn’t they be sitting with the Ak-hal? Shouldn’t they at least be trying?” I was unnerved. Moranen looked at me impassively.

  “There are always a few who are executed before the mating,” he said. “It just happens.” Our breakfast was brought to us by a woman dressed in fine silks, a large white apron covering her front. I had been instructed, in one of my daily sessions with Sarita that I wasn’t to speak to her. As a new member of the royal family, others were now below me. The serving women were mates to lower Ak-hal—foot soldiers. It was of the utmost importance to the Ak-hal that everyone had a mate. Their whole campaign against the Kamani was dependent upon their growing numbers.

  She placed a plate of strange meat and sweet bread in front of me. A small bowl of something looking and tasting of yogurt, encircled by different cut fruits. It was colorful, pleasing to the eye.

  Outside of the large window, a massive body lumbered by. I sat up, enthralled, my mouth dropping open. It was my first glance at the Ak-hal when in dragon form. It had a massive triangular-shaped reptilian head perched on a long, sinuous neck. Its body was long and muscular, and its wings were like the fabric of an umbrella stretched upon its thin spokes. Its scales were white—iridescent in the sunlight. Its tail dragged loudly behind it.

  “You look like a fish,” Libba said archly. I had the distinct feeling that she wanted to add “an ugly one” to that sentence, but didn’t dare in front of the crown prince.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I replied.

  “You shouldn’t talk about an Ak-hal who isn’t your mate in that manner,” Moranen said darkly. I glanced over at him in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do,” he said simply, yet with menace in his voice. I looked down at my plate, chastised. I picked up my fork, filling it with a tiny bite of food and placing it into my mouth. I chewed delicately. Sarita had warned me—everything must be done with grace and elegance, no matter how hungry or uncomfortable I might be. We had sat in her personal chambers, first thing, every morning. She taught me things that I hadn’t learned while in stasis. Her teachings basically amounted to this: nothing must disturb the Ak-hal. If their ire was raised, it could spell my end in a fiery inferno. In the world of the Ak-hal, there was no sickness. There was no aging. There was only a fight to remain calm at all costs. That, and to produce more of the Ak-hal. They wanted to take over the planet that we were on, Shakal. They wanted it for its resources, which the Kamani controlled. Ak-hal were strong, but they were small in numbers. The Kamani, it seemed, had numbers.

  As I sat in silence, eating, I thought about who I’d been on Earth. I had been a high school teacher in my small town. I’d taught English. I hadn’t made the best salary, but I’d owned my own small house and had been quite content to live quietly with my books. I hadn’t wanted to get married. From a young age, it had never appealed to me. While I had dated, nothing had ever seemed permanent. Not one of my exes could have made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. It wasn’t commitment that had been my issue—it had been compromise. They had all wanted me to compromise—go to a game, or a party, when I’d just have rather to curl up in bed with a book. A cat would have suited me better.

  Now, I would be married, against not only my character, but my better judgment, as well. I was to become a royal brood mare. The bleak idea of my new reality, barely a week in, already stifled me. I didn’t know what to do—I was only alone when in my room, when I was sleeping. I got ready for the day in the same large bathroom as all the other women, and then I was sent from person to person, spending my day with either Moranen, silently clutching his arm as he went about his business, or sitting across from Sarita, listening to everything that I must do to be as crown princess of the Ak-hal.

  Beside me, Moranen stood, finished with his breakfast. He held out his hand to me—his signal that it was time to go. I glanced at my plate mournfully. I had barely cleared a fraction of it, and I was still hungry. Quelling my sigh before it left me, I placed my hand in his, letting him pull me out of my seat. I looked over at Libba, who stared at me with jealousy. I recognized in her the same moral values as Sarita—power and prestige were everything to them.

  “It was lovely to meet you,” I lied with a smile. I was getting quite good at it.

  “And you,” she replied coolly. If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse on the blue stone floor. Moranen whisked me off. We had a council meeting to attend, in which I would sit silently beside him. If there was one thing that I had learned during my time with the Ak-hal, I no longer had an opinion.

  We glided through the halls of the castle. I was starting to learn my way through the very similar-looking halls. There was a pattern to them—that of an interlocking spiral, the center of which were the main hall, the rooms belonging to the royals, and the War Room, as I called it. The set up was wildly confusing. I imagined that this was for anyone who got in—they would never find their way out through the maze.

  We made our way to the War Room. Moranen opened the intricately carved mithrim door, holding it open for me. I stepped inside. It was entirely white, as the Ak-hal preferred. There was a long table, at which sat twelve Ak-hal nobles wearing their red sashes. I was the only woman there. I sat down to the left of Moranen, who sat at one end of the table. His father, Sarita on his arm, entered after us. They sat down at the other end.

  “What are your plans, my son?” the king asked.

  “We are to attack two days after the mating ceremony,” Moranen replied. “A delegation of the Kamani are to attend the mating ceremony. They seek to make a peace treaty with us; peace in exchange for access to the resources that we desire.” That sounded better to me than war and a hostile takeover. I noticed Sarita shooting me a warning look.

  “We are to make them feel welcomed,” Moranen continued. “We are to sign the treaty and then send them back to their people. They will let their guard down. That will be the perfect time to act.” My stomach churned. I felt like I needed to do something. The king nodded.

  “We will attack two days after the mating ceremony,” he agreed. “We will rain fire down upon their ice caves. Despite not knowing them, I wanted to save the Kamani. But I couldn’t even save myself—I couldn’t even speak.

  Chapter 6

  The end of the two weeks spent with the Ak-hal arrived. All of us but five had been chosen as mates—the ones who had sat at the table every morning, alone—they had never been claimed. I just wondered—what made them undesirable? They were gorgeous—model pretty. They had accepted their fate stoically, in silence. Were those not things that the Ak-hal prized?

  Their execution was to come before the mating ceremony. We were awoken in our temporary, dormitory-style rooms early in the morning, hours before the sun would rise. I walked into the bathroom, where I found Clara waiting for me. She greeted me with a smile. This was the first that I had seen of her since the day of my arrival.

  “Congratulations, princess,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you,” I replied, clasping her hands warmly. “Where have you been?”

  “With my mate,” she responded. “When you don’t need help in dressing for formal events, then my duties are with him.” Whe
n I glanced around at the group of women gathered in the room, she explained. “Those who aren’t mated to nobles assist them. After this day, many of the others will be in my position.”

  “Can I trust you?” I whispered. “Or are you like Sarita?” She looked me in the eye solemnly, so that I knew that she was telling the truth.

  “You can trust no one here, princess. This is the world of the Ak-hal.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. Her truth confirmed my suspicions—I could trust her to tell me the truth. But if it came down to me against the Ak-hal, I would be on my own. I couldn’t expect her to risk her life to side with me. I didn’t blame her. To survive was our goal here. I steeled myself as she helped me prepare. I was deeply anxious about many parts of today. I looked about me as the tub I sat in filled.

  In the corner, the five girls who were to be executed trembled, tears coursing down their cheeks. I had noticed that the only Ak-hal who had paid them any attention was Rakharo. He loved it when the woman to whom he spoke was terrified. He seemed to feed off it. I hoped that he would never find a mate. The poor woman would suffer her entire life. The mood in the room was tense. No one seemed the least bit excited. Libba, of course, merely seemed pleased. She had been mated to one of the nobles. She resented me for my title as princess, but she was pleased to have status, I believe. After today, she would live out her life, dripping with jewels. She held her chin high as she stepped into her bath.

  Clara washed and dressed my hair. Today, it was done up in an elaborate pouf, with curled tendrils artfully falling out. The headdress I wore was heavy. Two women dressed in black silk carried it in in ceremony on a velvet pillow, both holding it as they placed it upon my head. It was tall and spindly, an elaborate crown with gold flowers and spires that mimicked the castle of the Ak-hal. The dress that I wore was of cream-colored brocade, decorated with a gold pattern. At the neck and the sleeves, it was lined with Kamani pelt. It had a tight bodice, and long sleeves that flared at the cuffs, covering my shaking hands. I might not have been dying, but I could feel the sand in my hourglass running out, grain by miniscule grain.