Alien Prince Charming

by Zara Zenia

  “Not Prince Gardax,” Petra added. “At least he had the good sense to retire early. Get away from all those artificial harlots.” She nodded approvingly, and suddenly, the sun seemed to shine once more.

  Viani conceded, “Yeah, well, there’s gonna be a mess all the same. Must be nice to have people to do everything for you! And Tian quit last night. That means my crew is going to be short. Heaven knows how I’m going to pick up the slack.”

  The shuttle dinged at our arrival, and as we all stood to de-board, I couldn’t blame Tian for quitting, although I felt like it was probably a rash decision that would probably be regretted later. Knowing that Prince Gardax left the party gave me a fleeting sense of hope.

  “I could help,” I offered quickly, remembering my promise to Corinne.

  “How?” Viani asked. She glanced at me through curious eyes.

  “I can run some of the trays out for lunch? I get a break after the meal goes out, so I won’t be missed, and it’ll give you more time to clean,” I explained nervously. The plan was shady at best, but fortunately, she was too tired to question it and we parted ways a moment later.

  As soon as I headed toward the kitchen, though, I began to regret it. My hand trembled already from my intensely jittering nerves and there were still several hours to go before I would even be in his proximity. I didn’t know if I would fall apart before my plan even commenced.

  I should probably get a grip. Really, I was just taking him a tray of food. How much could I possibly interact with him over that? Then again, I wasn’t likely to have another opportunity like this. I wouldn’t be on his radar, but I might capture his attention for thirty seconds. I would take what I could get.

  My mouth felt dry and my cheeks flushed. The heat on my cheeks revealed to me that yet again, I was blushing.

  Get a grip, Amy!

  But I couldn’t. Every possible humiliating scenario flashed through my mind. What if I spilled the tray? Or worse, what if I spilled the tray and it landed in his lap? And what on earth was I going to talk to him about? Was it even proper? What if I offended him? Would he fire me? My mind raced with worst-case scenarios that I tried to fight back with courage, but my brain was untamable.

  Late as I was, I wouldn’t have the chance to eat those boiled fish guts for lunch after all, but that was just fine with me. My stomach was a nervous flurry of butterflies, terror, and self-doubt, and food would have just made a crowd.

  As I knocked on the door of his private quarters, tray in hand, cheeks surely flushed scarlet, I wondered if I could will myself into spontaneous combustion. Between erupting in flames or making a fool of myself in front of the prince, I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  I took a deep breath to pacify some of my nerves, but my hands were shaking so violently that I had to white-knuckle grip the trays in order to prevent myself from dropping them all over the floor. I wanted his attention, but not by making a fool of myself. I tried to get it together while I stood there, waiting for someone to sweep open the door.

  Chapter 5

  Gardax

  I was engrossed in my weekly status report from my commissioners in Erebis when a knock came from the passageway. That was odd. All passages were controlled by biometric scanners that opened or closed pursuant to security clearance. While malfunctions in the onboard system occurred, it was a rarity. I wasn’t expecting anyone at this time either, which befuddled me even further.

  I walked over, and at my approach, the passage dematerialized to reveal a maid carrying a tray of food. In an instant, I recognized her. Her red hair was still arranged in a snug braid that rested on her shoulder. Streaks of pale blonde and cinnamon flashed in the light as she walked in, her head bowed.

  “Pardon me, Your Highness. I’ve come to deliver your lunch,” she murmured quietly in a soft tone that was almost inaudible. I had to strain to hear her because she wasn’t making eye contact.

  “Yes, of course.” I smiled, pleasantly surprised. There had been only a handful of women in the group in the kitchen the night before, and only she had captured my attention. She’d left a lasting impression on me without even realizing it, which made her even more mysteriously tantalizing.

  I silently cursed to myself that I didn’t have my scanner. Lifiya was still repairing the device after the damage it sustained. However, I wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity to acquaint myself with this beguiling creature. It was going to take some prodding, though, as she appeared far too nervous to meet my gaze. The tray rattled under her wobbly grip.

  “You know the door didn’t open for you because you don’t have security clearance for this part of the ship, so why don’t you tell me who you’re really working for,” I said as she set the tray beside my workstation, hoping to tease some interaction out of her.

  She straightened, turning around and making eye contact for the first time. Breathtaking. I was awestruck, and the air froze in my lungs, briefly suspended.

  “Oh, I–I’m so sorry! They were shorthanded, so I offered to help. Please, I didn’t mean to break any rules!” She squirmed, her cheeks burning scarlet. She was stuttering and stumbling on her own words as she anxiously shifted her weight.

  Seeing her nervous reaction, I immediately regretted the comment. “It’s fine, really,” I said, giving her a gentle smile. “Sorry, I was just trying to joke with you. You seem rather tense.” I kept my tone even and friendly.

  She gave a breathy little laugh that seemed more bewildered than amused and started pulling covers off the dishes of food. “Oh, right.”

  “I saw you in the kitchens, right?” I asked, hoping to put her at ease by letting her know that I remembered her, and I was also trying to engage her in a bit of lighthearted small talk.

  She glanced my way so quickly I thought I imagined it, except that her eyes, the most mesmerizing hazel I’d ever seen, were too incredible for me to concoct. I was lost in her gaze, swimming in the sea of her mesmerizing current rushing around me.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” she demurred. She fidgeted, slightly uncomfortable.

  “Just Gardax is fine, if you don’t mind,” I told her with a grin.

  You’d think being born into royalty, I’d be used to the formal titles, but they never felt right. Maybe because it was a constant reminder that I had duties to my people that robbed me of so many of the personal freedoms others took for granted. Nobody besides my brothers and my parents could truly understand what it was like on the inside.

  She laughed nervously. Her gaze flickered between me and the floor. “Uh, I don’t think I’m allowed to do that.”

  I leaned back in my chair and surveyed her for a moment. She was beautiful in a totally refreshing way, completely distinct from the affected beauty I had been confronted with last night. Slender, tall, with skin so flawless and creamy, I had to wonder if it would taste milky-sweet as well.

  There was something natural and ethereal about her beauty. She wore little makeup and wore clothes that looked as if they had seen better days, yet to me, this was more attractive than the showy women confronting me at the party.

  Realizing my body was warming and reacting to her in a way that wasn’t going to do me any favors just yet, I grabbed a piece of fruit off the tray and bit into it before answering, “My ship, my rules.” I gave her a sly grin to let her know I was just being playful.

  “So, you’re using the same authority that you don’t want me to acknowledge to force me to call you by your name?” she answered, a faint challenge in her tone. If she was humoring me, she held a steady poker face.

  I smiled, happy she was making steady eye contact now. “You’re feistier than you let on, aren’t you?”

  She blushed. “No, I’m just pointing out your lapse in logic.” Her lips twitched in an ever-so-slight curl of amusement.

  “Mmm, and I appreciate that. Not many aside from my brothers are willing to do that. Well, we’ve established that I’m Gardax. What may I call you?” I leaned in closer and raised my eyebrows
expectantly.

  She glanced behind her to where the entrance had sealed once more, as if she was afraid she would get in trouble. Biting her lip, she looked back to me. “Amy. My name is Amy Allen.”

  “Amy,” I said, drawing the sound out. “It suits you.” Indeed, it was true. Her facial features looked like an Amy.

  “Does it?” she asked, smiling now. She shrugged. “I always thought it was kind of plain and ordinary.”

  “Nonsense,” I told her, cringing that she would even view herself that way. Then I nodded. “It’s a strong sound, but not hard, not abrasive. It’s soft but not overly adorned, not contrived. It has a genuine, pleasantly familiar sound. I like it.”

  She bowed her head with a blush and raised her eyes back to mine, peering at me through her lashes. “That’s a lot to take away from two syllables.”

  “I’m a good judge of character.” I shrugged. I sat up and inspected her coy behavior.

  She laughed. “And modest about it, too?” There was a playfully sardonic tone in her voice.

  I smiled. “Perhaps not. But you have to be good at gauging people in my position. It pays to know who is worth trusting and who isn’t. There is little I detest more than a liar. Now, you strike me as someone I can trust. Do you agree?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely, but I’m nobody . . . I mean, I’m not sure why it matters since I just work in the kitchens.” She absentmindedly glanced behind her as if she hadn’t expected to have been here this long.

  “Yes, the kitchens, precisely. Please, take a seat,” I said, gesturing to an open chair in the small chamber.

  She looked uncertain but did at last, to my relief. I wanted to unravel the mystery of this beautiful woman who had been hidden away in the kitchen. I wanted to discover her, pick her brain. I wanted to know everything about her.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked. “Please, have some. I will not eat it all myself, I assure you.” I prodded her, though she seemed reluctant and finally only relented to take a small morsel of cheese that was barely more than a nibble.

  “I assume I don’t need to explain why I hosted the party last night,” I started in a reluctant voice.

  Amy shook her head, a few stray auburn strands coming loose. “I don’t think there is a conscious person on Earth who doesn’t know,” she said, grinning. Her eyes were stunning, electrifying. She enhanced my senses. She made me curious.

  I nodded, acknowledging the celebrity that had attached to myself and my brothers. “Though our situation may seem . . . glamorous, perhaps, it’s much more serious than that. My brothers and I . . . there is a lot of pressure on us to marry and marry quickly.” My voice was even more somber than I’d wanted to reveal.

  She quirked a brow. “Well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I think you can pretty much take your pick of women.”

  “Be that as it may, it’s more than just picking someone I like. Unfortunately, choosing someone for myself based upon my own preferences and wishes is not something I can afford to do. I have other responsibilities to my people,” I said, glossing over the reproductive aspects of it. It was public knowledge already, after all, and not the most romantic of subjects. “As such, I am obliged to find the person with whom I share the greatest genetic compatibility. Fortunately, we’ve found a way to detect that.”

  She nodded. “I heard rumors about your machine for that.”

  “Yes, the scanner. It does not leave much room for the epic, passionate romance I had perhaps envisioned I would find when I met my future bride, but it is the most efficient means, I suppose,” I said, sighing. There was no point in arguing the scanner. It was our best hope yet.

  “It seems rather unfair, if you don’t mind my saying. I’m sure there are good reasons for it, but I know how hard it is to have your choices taken from you, feeling like you’re boxed into a corner,” she said, and the somber expression on her face told me there was much more to that statement. She was hiding some private pain behind that shield of hers on the surface.

  “We all do what we must to survive,” I reflected, doing my best to remain gentle.

  Her eyes flashed, and then she looked off, wistful. “No matter the cost to ourselves, as long as we make it to tomorrow.” She looked back then, suddenly, as if she didn’t mean to say as much. Our eyes caught, and for a moment, my lungs seemed to constrict in my chest.

  It’s her.

  Surely, she must have been who the scanner was leading me to. Surely, I couldn’t feel a connection like this, such a primal attraction to someone I wasn’t meant for. The gates of my mind finally opened and all I saw was sunshine. All I felt was warmth.

  Amy blushed again and looked away. “Well, I should probably get back to the kitchens soon.” She abstractly pointed a finger skewed in the direction behind her from which she had come before.

  “Right, the kitchens. Well, you might have guessed that my scanner led me there. Unfortunately, it became damaged and is being repaired as we speak. Until it’s fixed, I can’t know for sure who in the kitchens it was leading me to.”

  “Are you sure that it wasn’t a mistake? I mean, shouldn’t you be matched with someone from the upper class?” she asked. She sounded shocked that I would even entertain the idea that it could be someone other than a woman clothed in dazzling clothes and shimmering, expensive jewelry.

  “In Trilyn society, we don’t have such class separations. This means nothing to me,” I assured her indifferently.

  “But you have royalty,” she said, her voice full of doubt. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Yes, but as royals, we are not considered superior in the sense that your upper classes are here. Trilyn society is much more complicated than that. Our role as royals is one more of servitude. There is privilege, certainly, but it comes at a cost, as anything does.”

  “I see,” she said skeptically. She scratched the side of her cheek and took a deep breath.

  I smiled. “I’m not sure you do, but perhaps I will have another opportunity to explain the intricacies of my culture to you.” On our wedding night, perhaps? The thought struck me, and at any other time, it might have terrified me that I could so easily picture such a thing after so brief an acquaintance, but now all I felt was hope. I hoped I wasn’t being too presumptuous.

  And if there were a wedding night, there were much more engaging ways I would wish to spend it with her than explaining the history of my planet. I didn’t want to bore her to sleep while I tried to seduce her at the same time.

  She laughed. “Sorry, it’s just hard to picture someone like you ending up with some lowly kitchen worker.” She pointed to herself as if she had nothing to offer. It made my heart ache.

  “Someone like me?” I countered. Our eyes met, and I knew she sensed the electricity, the awareness between us. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest. I had to bite back a tempting impulse to kiss her.

  “Well, yeah, someone so . . . powerful and courageous,” she mumbled, embarrassed, heating me with every word. “I mean, obviously, you know . . . you’re attractive,” she murmured as if she were humiliated to admit the words out loud or as if she would be punished severely or something.

  I grinned. “Is that what you think?” My belly flipped with excitement.

  “Yes—no, I mean, it’s obviously a fact. But it’s beside the point. That sort of thing, it just doesn’t happen on this planet.”

  “Well, then, I suppose being from another planet has its advantages. No silly class elitism to get in the way.” I smiled warmly. “From all appearances, it would appear my match has been working in my kitchens all this time. The only question is who?” I said, allowing my gaze to linger on her lips. Her tongue darted out in response, and I smiled at the involuntary reaction.

  “Well, um, there are a lot of people who work in the kitchen,” she responded. She eyed me with a meek and humble pair of eyes.

  “True, but there were not so many in there right at the moment I came down,” I argued. “You . . .” I said, d
ropping my tone, enjoying the rapid flutter of her eyelashes, “and a few others.”

  “Right. I think. To be honest, I don’t remember exactly. I’m sorry.” She blushed, clearly flustered.

  “It’s very frustrating, being so close and yet not knowing, especially when the situation is of such monumental importance to my people,” I explained, rolling my wrist through the air.

  She looked sympathetic then. “I can ask around, find out who else was down there at that time.”

  I didn’t want to know who else. I just wanted to know if it was her, but I appreciated the generosity that provoked her offer and I was eager to guarantee another conversation with her.

  “That’s very kind of you to offer your help. I would be very grateful for it.”

  “I’m not quite sure what to do with a prince’s gratitude.” She laughed. She glanced down at her shoes.

  “The options are endless,” I said in a low voice, leaning forward. I was teetering on the edge of being flirtatious.

  Her breathing seemed to change slightly, her eyes darkened, and right as she opened her mouth to respond, her pocket buzzed and she stood suddenly. “Forgive me, Your Highness . . . er, I mean Gardax. I really need to get back to the kitchen.”

  “Of course. I take it that is your supervisor,” I murmured. The interruption had disappointed me.

  Irritation flashed in her eyes. “Darla. She is the woman who approached you in the kitchen.” She spoke with resentment that was hard to hide.

  “Ah, yes.” Then, just to test her reaction, I added, “So she is a potential candidate as well?”

  Amy’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, heavens, no! She’s married, for one thing, but she’s also just . . . just terrible! Sorry,” she said sheepishly. She behaved as if she wanted to vent to me but wasn’t sure I would be the most trusted source for containing the burdens of her secret thoughts.