Valiant Alien Tailor

by Zara Zenia

  Use it Lortnam... find your mate.

  I shook my head to clear my twin’s words from them. The meetings were a means to courting the Humans, to convincing them an alliance with our people was superior to backing their fellow Humans who had turned against us. It was no easy thing, convincing a species to turn against their own. Such work would take time and careful planning. My mind needed to be focused and sharp, not turned toward finding a hypothetical mate among the dozens of women I would meet that morning and millions who might see the resulting footage in the coming days.

  And yet, I couldn't fully force the thought from my mind once it had entered. We had been away from home for four years, on an alien planet searching for mates we might never find. The parties were a dismal failure– or rather I was a failure at them. Should I not commit myself to every other action— however seemingly insignificant —of completing that mission as well?

  I wanted her. Spirits I wanted my mate so badly I could almost taste her on my tongue and feel her on my lips. Jinurak was the warrior. Rawklix had the sort of flash that always drew the Humans’ attentions.

  I looked through the fragrances. If my mate were among the Human women, would she enjoy the scent of my skin stained with these odoriferous oils? I couldn't imagine my mate doused in them, but the Human women seemed to consider it a prerequisite to leaving the house. The more expensive the oils, the more beauty they conferred on the beholder. Such logic existed on Trilyn as well, but the smells the Humans coveted grated on my nerves. Fake chemicals spiked with false flower essence and spirits sharp alcohol all mixed and applied in quantities so large it became impossible to detect the natural pheromones of the owner.

  The mere thought of my mate wearing those awful liquids brought a wince of disgust to my face. For the sake of our bond and our future together, I would take her as I found her, whether she trended toward flowers or spices. However she smelled, I would want to savor the aroma every evening in our bed. I would miss it every morning when I left her arms. If I loved her, I would love it.

  And that was the worst part of it. Even as I had questioned the scanners, even as I’d lost hope of ever finding her, my wishes for our future grew. Seeing my brothers find their mates and the brief snatches of the emotion between them… I had begun to hope for it, too. And since Akrawn had found his mate, despite the scanners being damaged, I had to hope that I would as well. I wanted a mate and I wanted to love her. The smallest desire in the galaxy, but entire lives had been wasted for want of its fulfillment. Nations had fallen for its deep and reckless appeal.

  In the end, I decided against the fragrances. I was a Prince of Trilyn, one of the seven. I didn't need armor to face Human reporters or my mate. I was only likely to meet one that day.

  Representatives from my court secured office space in the city center. I often observed the Human's architecture from the windows in my palace, but I rarely went to see the structures up close. The building my team selected was an old two-floor structure composed primarily of brick, cement, wood, and plaster. It looked similar enough to the cultural center that I found myself reluctant to step inside. At the entrance, I couldn’t help but pause, if only for a moment, to reconsider. But the Corbin brothers and their accomplices— however many there were —had made a grievous mistake. They had left me alive and that gave my brothers and me forewarning of their deadly schemes. My security team combed the structure and only Humans with passes personally passed out by my aides were allowed. Nobody came in or out without my prior approval. If there was anyone coming to make good on Jacob Corbin’s threats, they wouldn't have the advantage this time. Never again.

  My assistant secured a meeting space that was large enough to accommodate seven people— myself and whichever Humans from which ever six press outlets were on the list for that block.

  The journalists in the first round were from more prestigious newspapers and those directly near my brother's palaces. A few of them had flown all night to make sure they could make the interview on such short notice— a fact they made sure to share the moment they shook my hand, as if such a thing would impress me. Even the Humans had video call technology. Each of the reporters could have set up a remote call interview, but they all wanted to see me in person. All the better to take the measure of the man.

  "Has the attack changed your plans in the city?" one of them asked. He was a middle-aged man with skin and teeth both an unhealthy shade of yellow.

  "We believe… deeply in the right of sovereignty of all sentient peoples," I said, calling the practiced response to my lips hesitantly. "We have always maintained that we have no plans beyond the alliance and trade agreement we have offered."

  It wasn’t the Human’s language that made me stumble. Their press were like a band of vicious predators, searching for any scrap of daylight to better ensnare their prey. They would seize on the smallest misstep and use it to turn the spotlight on me and my brothers into a burning flame. It wasn’t enough to see the day to completion. I had to do it flawlessly.

  My answer seemed to satisfy the man. He scribbled lazily in his notebook, as he had after every answer, and yielded the floor by looking at the woman to his right. She was younger than he was by twenty years and was from a website that had launched only ten years prior with a strange mix of genuine news and casual articles. The website swallowed hours of time with no regard for schedule or responsibility. The surprising veracity of the website’s news branch was enough to earn a spot in the first group, though they tended to be weak on the subjects that interested me.

  "Your Highness, you and your royal brothers have been in Earth’s airspace for over four years now," she said as her full, bare lips stretched into a smile. "You’ve met thousands of women in that time. Has the Trilyn council considered the idea that there are no more matches?"

  Nine thousand, six hundred, and forty-three women, to be exact. I forced my lips into a smile to mimic hers, though the forwardness of the question annoyed me enough to make my jaw stiffen involuntarily.

  "My people suffered great hardship when the women of our race perished, as anyone familiar with our story already knows. We know that our salvation may prove… elusive, but we have living proof of its possibility in the fact that four of my brothers have found their chosen brides. My brothers love their ma— wives. They would lay down their lives to assure a fleeting moment of their happiness. As would any of us."

  I hadn’t answered her question, and from the way her eyes scrunched at the corners, she must have noticed. The young woman’s lips hung half open in hesitation and for a second, I thought she meant to hold me accountable for my non-answer. But in the next, she had looked down to her digital pad. I relaxed as her slender fingers began to dance over the digital keyboard.

  It was impossible for me, a Prince of Trilyn, to answer her honestly. The truth was I wondered every night if the mission had already failed, if those of us left hadn’t found our mates because they didn’t exist to be found. It wasn’t the worst horror that could befall us. Gardax, Darbnix’s, Manzar’s and Akrawn’s children would secure the future of our family rule and bloodline. Continental rulership could be consolidated. Nieces and nephews could be declared heirs. In this way, life could continue for our people. But for those of us not blessed enough to find our mates, we would await a future of watching our brothers taste the happiness forever denied to us.

  No, I could not admit to that thought out loud. Not to stranger. Not to my brothers. Not even to my twin. I suspected he and Rawklix had the same fears… and would be just as reluctant to admit them. That future, however imaginary, was too horrible to contemplate, let alone consider.

  I had hoped the pedigree of these journalists would lead to a decent round of questions and my spirits might be lifted enough to push through the day easily. But their questions centered on Rachel's version of events, and every attempt I made to protest was met with puzzled stares. Puzzled stares and request for clarification that somehow managed to supplant my account of the attac
k or reassert Rachel's.

  Everyone received thirty minutes to ask me questions in a round. Any answer given was considered fair game by whoever heard it, even if they hadn’t asked the question themselves. The day was meant to end with a large press conference in which some two hundred reporters and journalists from around the world would listen to a statement I had prepared.

  Next came the general interest magazines. As a rule, the vast majority of the Humans seemed to prefer their news in light doses, with varied topics. By consuming large quantities, they could pretend to be more attentive to the world around them than they were. It caused no end of difficulty at parties, whereas more often than not, the conversation ended when her knowledge ran out.

  From these journalists, I expected simple questions and a request for a brief explanation of why my brothers and I were on Earth and what our mates could expect.

  If only.

  "How does it feel to be a hero, your Highness? Will you be using your newfound fame to finally find love?"

  I'm not a hero. We were betrayed and I was observant. "Every editor was sent a briefing on the protocol for this interview and they were quite clear. Only one question allowed per person."

  Had she expected me to miss the second question? Her blink of confusion said she had.

  "Oh. Well… how—"

  "Next question." I turned to the next journalist in line, ignoring the daggers the first reporter shot at me. There was a reason I didn’t want them to ask more than one question at a time. I had lived among the Humans long enough to know the more words they spoke, the more lies they buried beneath them. Lies led to misunderstandings, led to mistakes, led to the spotlight turning into fire.

  The next journalist wasted no time in taking his turn.

  "You've been on our planet for a while searching for Princess Right," he said. "Do you think she'll be impressed by the fact that you saved so many innocent members of her species? Perfect strangers?"

  If she's any sense at all, she's horrified any of this happened. "To us, the cultural center served much the same function as an embassy. It is custom among your people to treat the soil beneath any embassy as if it were the country itself. By that logic, those people were not strangers. They were visitors in my home, guests there to hear my words and our ways. How could I not save them?"

  Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to get heavier. The truth of that day had never been so close to the surface. I wanted to say it again, to scream it, but they would not listen. I hadn’t saved anyone, except by luck and circumstance. But the truth was close enough to the lie that nobody was interested in the difference.

  The last journalist was the youngest of the three, a blonde girl who looked to have barely reached the age of maturity. Her blue eyes sparkled with a strange enthusiasm that made me dread her question before she asked it. She reminded me of sweet spring honey, a short delight that was ultimately far too sweet for me.

  "Seven armed terrorists incapacitated in less than thirty minutes. Some people would call that the stuff of action movies. Would you ever consider maybe taking your palace to Hollywood and starring in a film?"

  Holy Trilyn! I leaned back in my chair, making a show of considering her question when really, I only needed to consider how honest to be. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less than to be an action star. It would merely have been another way to pretend I was what I was not: a warrior. The Humans revered warriors and the men who played them.

  Each answer that came to my tongue was too harsh and biting for the company. I could not speak them, so they stayed on my tongue burning like poison no amount of water could neutralize.

  It was then I realized if my mate judged me by the interviews, she too would mistake me for a warrior. Would she be disappointed that I had no collection of weapons neither fresh from the smith nor ancient and bloodied? Could the fantasy in her mind cope with the reality of my palace being filled with books instead of revelers? Or would the image I had presented give her expectations I could never meet?

  No, I had to be honest, if only about this.

  "My duty is to the people of Norna as their Prince and administrator. It is a wild place, but rich with resources that both of our people have come to depend upon. When my brother ascends the high throne, my additional duties will be to him. When I find my mate, we will retire to my palace and begin the voyage home and during those months, I will teach her the histories and lives of our people, because they will be her people, too. Ours will not be a life without its pleasure, but it will be one of duty. There’s no room in that for things like action movies."

  I expected to see the sparkle in her eyes dull. Instead she stared at me for a few seconds with her lips parted in apparent awe.

  "A month’s long honeymoon?" she asked. "That’s never been mentioned before!"

  "Followed by life on another planet," the first journalist said. "Don’t you think that’s a lot to ask? I mean, is there even a way back—"

  The low-level annoyance and frustration that had been building in me all afternoon exploded. The heat of it tore through my veins, forcing me to stifle a growl in the back of my throat. The other reporters glared at the woman as if they hated her for the crime of speaking against the fantasy. I knew what she wanted to ask, even if she had wisely cut off the question before it came out.

  If the Humans changed their minds, could they take their women back?

  Climbing to my feet, I gripped the hem of my tunic and tugged it taut. "As I said, it is a life of duty. One we would not force on any woman who would not have it. The Princesses are treasured by their husbands and by their people. I take the implication behind your words and I will not have them."

  I stormed out of the room before the foolish woman could defend herself, heading for the elevators in blessed silence for the first time in hours. It might have been a fair question to ask years ago, when we first arrived with nothing more than our palaces and our word. But we had lived among them for years. My brothers and their wives had shown how happy they were together, and they were each growing their own families! Yet somehow, the feeling had developed among the Humans that we were a threat. Somehow the poison had spread from the Humans First organization in New New Orleans to the rest of the cities we lived in. It had attacked Akrawn directly and nearly caused in Intergalactic incident, and we’d nearly lost him. It had only been thanks to his quick-thinking mate, Cat, and the sentient AIs that he’d been saved. I couldn’t help but think that the Human’s hospitality now had an expiration date.

  The interviews had been a failure. There was nothing left but to return to my palace, change into clothing that wasn’t so damned uncomfortable, and let the High Prince know. I took the rear exit, hoping to avoid the cameras. No doubt they were setting up for the press conference. Eventually, one of my staff would tell them it was cancelled.

  I stepped into the empty alley behind the building and inhaled deeply, letting my eyes fall shut. The smell of piss and rotting garbage nearly over powered my senses, but it was a welcome change from the cloud of perfume and cologne that had followed me all day. It wouldn't be enough to change clothes. Calling Gardax would have to wait until I'd washed the stench from my skin.

  "Your Highness?" a voice asked.

  I tensed, putting myself back on guard. A Human woman stood in front of me. The crown of her head barely reached my chest even in her heeled boots. She stood well back from me to compensate for our height difference. Her eyes were the color of freshly mined silver, and when she smiled at me, they sparkled like precious gems in the center of her oval face. Any plan of going back to my palace— or anywhere in the city she wasn't —vanished from my mind.

  "Am I interrupting your meditation or something?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm sorry."

  I furrowed my brow in confusion until it dawned on me how I must have looked, head toward the sky and eyes closed. Prayer or mediation was the kindest interpretation. With that thought, the stress of the interviews came back with renewed st
rength.

  "You... aren't interrupting. I was just leaving."

  A plain expression of disappointment crossed her oval face, and I'm not ashamed to admit it thrilled me that a woman as beautiful as her would be sorry to see me leave.

  "That's too bad. I was hoping to get a chance to see what all the fuss was about." She took a step toward me, extending her hand to me. "Kelly Fillmore, Interrobang News."

  With two words, the object of my fascination had a name... and a job that put her firmly on my "do not speak to" list for the day. I shook her hand, enjoying the soft feel of her fingers in mine despite myself. Instinct told me to go back to my original plan. I needed to be back in my palace changing or speaking to my brothers, not getting lost in a Human journalist's pretty eyes.

  "Prince Lortnam of Trilyn." A rush of cold air replaced her warmth as I let go of her fingers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fillmore, but you must excuse me."

  I turned and walked back up the alley toward the other end of the street. Within seconds, the sharp clack of Kelly Fillmore's heeled boots fell in step behind me.

  "Heading out for coffee, your Highness?" she asked. For each of my steps, she took two. The brisk pace made her breath come in slight huffs. "I would have thought you have people for that."

  "I'm heading home, Ms. Fillmore." Don't look at her. Don't look into her eyes. Get in the transport and go home.

  Use it, Lortnam!

  The woman, Kelly, jogged ahead and slid into my path. "Before you do that, your Highness, you might want to stay and talk to me. Just for a few seconds."

  I looked down at her in shock... for a single heartbeat. Then my eyes focused on hers. I was sure I meant to go somewhere. There was some place on this strange planet I needed to be more than an alley with Kelly Fillmore, but damned if I could remember where when I looked into those pools of polished silver.