Coolly, she turned on her heel and left me stunned, working my mouth like a fish out of water.
“What,” I eventually managed, “was that?”
Chapter Three
Aster
The evening was off to a fantastic start. My mother found me poised to claim my mate, red panties in hand. Fortunately, the worst-case scenarios already happened. It was only victory from here.
I followed my mother into the front room. Her eyes scanned the simple room, looking for fault. “I didn’t hear you arrive,” I said. “Do you sneak into other people’s homes now?”
“Playing house on this farm is beneath the dignity of a prince,” she said, sitting primly on the edge of a chair.
“How kind of you not to answer my question. I will assume you wanted to sneak in and catch me and my kompli on the wrong foot.”
My mother, the queen, fussed with the hem of her jacket. There was nothing wrong with the garment. She would never have worn it if so much as a thread was out of place. “Your father will arrive shortly. Are you going to offer me a drink?”
I bowed, teeth gritted together, and returned with a glass of lakasaha. Of course the wine served was the wrong vintage, wrong temperature and not in the proper glass. I did not linger to be lectured.
Evie was in the cleansing room upstairs. She stood in front of the mirror applying the face powder that made her smell musty like chalk and not like the honey and sunshine I crave. Clad only in undergarments, the dress in the sonic cleanser, my mate was irresistible. Coming from behind, I placed my hands on her hips and nuzzled the back of her neck.
She stiffened immediately. “Get off me, Aster,” she hissed.
My hands fell away immediately. Puzzled, I searched for an explanation from her reflection in the mirror. Evie’s posture softened and she shook her head. “Not with your mother around, okay? I’m not in the mood to be judged.”
I picked up the cosmetic jars on the counter. She continued to apply the musty smelling powder to her face. Satisfied, she reached for a charcoal stick to line her already dark eyes.
“You don’t need this,” I said.
“There is no way I’m facing your mother without my war paint.”
Human beauty rituals are beyond my understanding. “You’re not happy,” I said.
“No, Aster, I’m not,” Evie said, applying a red wax tube to her lips. “Your mother has already decided to hate me.”
“She did not say those words,” I said, knowing I was avoiding the blunt truth.
Evie slapped the tube down to the counter, the plastic creaking with the stress of impact. “Slave colors,” she said, tone sharp.
“We haven’t had slaves on Fremm in a thousand years.”
“You know nothing about Earth history, do you?”
My chest felt hollow; my mate was distressed and I have no idea why. Fingers flexed, yearning for something to hold, a weapon to fling into this problem. “How can I make you smile?”
The sonic cleaner chimed. “Hand me the damn dress,” Evie said.
The dress, source of irritation and insult, fit Evie well. The deep v neck and fitted waist highlighted all the soft curves I yearned to caress. “You look good enough to eat, kompli,” I said truthfully.
Evie’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry I’m grumpy. I made a bad first impression with your mother and this is only dress I have and it’s clearly not good enough,” words running together.
I shrugged. “Disregard her snobbish words, kompli. The color suits you and you’ve made no political statement with the choice.”
“My panties in your hand was statement enough.”
“I have no regrets.”
She gave me a light punch on the shoulder, a motion I’ve learned is the mark of affection. Humans are strange, hiding signs of love in aggression.
Downstairs, my father arrived. His guard clad in vivid red uniforms stood in the corners of the room. Evie’s eyes went wide at the sight of the guards holding their axes but said nothing. The difficulty in achieving an informal meal just shot up tenfold. Fremms were, as a rule, informal until we were very formal, with little transition. I preferred direct confrontation. You knew where you stood after you traded blows with a man, no guessing.
King Emre sat at the head of the table. His navy hair had threads of silver, more than the last time I was planet side. His mustache and long beard were more silver now than navy. He wore casual clothes but the fabrics were too rich and the red too deep. Even at a farmhouse table, Emre was still the king.
His keen eyes watched as Evie served our meal, bringing forth a large platter of pasta in sauce and meatballs. Additional sauce was in another bowl. Hunger rumbled in my stomach. She has made this meal before and I approve.
She served my father first, arranging a nest of noodles, meatballs and sauce and finally grating cheese. Emre stabbed a meatball on a fork and took an appreciative bite.
“This is so garlicky,” he said, pleased. A dab of sauce lingered on at the corner of his mouth. So much for royal dignity.
My mother pushed the noodles around on her plate. “What is this Terran food?” she asked.
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” Evie said. “It’s simple but it’s my favorite meal.”
“This is merely rehydrated wheat noodles and clumps of protein,” Baris said, not impressed. “I was told you were a chef.”
“It is a classic dish from the Italy region of Earth.”
“You would serve the king of Fremm peasant food?” Baris pushed the plate away, frowning heavily.
“Since nothing will please you, how about I serve that?” Evie’s voice remained placid but I recognized the dangerously calm tone.
My stomach went into freefall, paralyzed between honoring my mother, as all Fremm children are commanded to honor their parents, and rising to the defense of my mate. Evie is a fighter and she does not recognize an opponent of greater skill. There was no good solution here; I should slit my throat now with my blade.
“I like it,” the king said, mouth full of noodles. “It reminds me of solucan, but less thrashing. Very good.”
The tension at the table eased. Evie and Baris returned to their chairs, snarling. I was helpless, caught between them. I might as well roll over and expose my unprotected belly to the women and see which one ends my misery.
At the end of the meal, Evie served coffee and those clever caramels she made earlier. I took my coffee with two sugar but my parents drank theirs black. Evie used cream and sugar. Why did Terrans mask the bitterness of this beverage they served all the time? Morning, afternoon, after a meal, always coffee.
“There are matters we need to discuss,” Emre said, holding the hot ceramic mug in his hands. My mother did not touch her drink and kept her arms folded.
“You have upsetting news,” I said.
“No,” Emre said, “you had upsetting news and we’ve been cleaning up this mess ever since.” He glanced to his side and patted Evie on the shoulder, “Not that we do not find you charming.”
My teeth clenched at the sight of another man daring to touch my kompli but I said nothing, ignoring the instinctive reaction.
“Don’t feel like you have to protect my feelings,” Evie said.
“I wouldn’t,” Emre said. “We were nearing the end of negotiations with the Bakken family, who are very upset at the situation.”
My shoulders squared. “We had no formal agreement.”
My father’s eyes were level with my mine. “You offended our closest ally and friend.”
“My kompli is offensive?”
“Do not play word games with me, child,” he said. “You forced our hand once in negotiations and then you pull this...stunt.”
My hand slammed on the table. My father was right in every regard. I proposed to a suitable girl from the Bakken family, someone I admired and forced our families to negotiate a marriage contract. I was initially denied but insisted on pursuing negotiations. Then I found Evie. Dramatics were my only recour
se. “The bond with my kompli is not a stunt.”
Emre said, “I believe your bond is real, son. That I do not doubt.”
“But what do you doubt?” Evie asked. Pleased that my mate is perceptive, marks of happiness burned on my brow.
“Do not speak to the king unless spoke to,” Baris snapped. Though she spoke to Evie, her eyes narrowed and fixed on my expression. “And he is to be addresses as ‘Your Majesty’ and ‘Sir’.”
Evie’s jaw tightened but she nodded. “My apologies, Your Majesties.”
Again, we are informal until very formal and easily offended. No wonder Terrans thought us crazed barbarians. “This is an informal meal,” I said.
“Do not defend this manner less soft skinned Terran,” Baris said.
My growl filled the room. My mother pushed too far.
“Enough,” Emre said, voice loud enough to drown out our squabbling. “We have more important matters to discuss than protocol and formalities.”
Baris sniffed, chin raised, but she did not argue.
“The Bakkens,” Emre said.
“You have another son to marry,” I said.
“Yes, they might accept Altan, but our Mourning Gift will have to be substantial.”
My stunt was expensive: message understood.
Emre continued, “What will appease the Bakkens is a public show that your bond was greater than an impulse or lust. You will need to marry.”
I nodded. Of course. “My kompli is worth more than my fortune. If that will appease the Bakkens, they can have it.”
“Immediately.”
My chest swelled. This was not punishment at all.
“I’m not so sure,” Evie said, then paused as if sensing all eyes turning to her. “I mean, of course. My life is forever with Aster, but I’m not ready for a wedding. I want my family here.”
Emre nodded. “I will send my fastest ship. How large is your family?”
Evie’s cheeks turned pinkish. “My parents are dead. I just have my sister, Vera, now. And Jaimie, she’s practically my sister.”
Does it bother my mate that she has no one to stand for her in the ceremony, is that why she blushes? Perhaps she thinks I do not have time to prepare a Mourning Gift to reflect her true worth? I said, “My best men will fetch Vera and Jaimie. It is done.” Using the communicator on my wrist, I sent the command.
Emre reached for another caramel. “This is a good plan and will satisfy the Terran Ambassadors.”
“There’s more you haven’t mentioned?” There is always more. My father did not rise above his siblings because he was the strongest but because he was the most cunning.
“The Interstellar Union is not happy.”
“No one is happy,” I said. Not the Bakkens, not my mother and not the Union.
“While I may soothe the Bakkens with a display of piety and another son, the Union knows this was an impulsive and illegal action.”
My ire rose. Taking a deep breath so not to dishonor my father with senseless rage, I exhaled slowly. “What was my alternative?”
“Not kidnapping a Terran woman and acting like a Fremmian barbarian for the entire galaxy to witness?”
My hands clenched into a fist. The nearest guard tensed, arms flexing ever so slightly. Only my father could speak to me that way about my kompli but it was hard to fight the impulse to lunge at him. If I did, the Royal Guard would swarm me and I could not fight a dozen men. I pressed my flat palms onto the table as a display that I intend to keep the peace.
My mate’s eyebrow rose and she cocked her head. Not much got past Evie.
Emre said, “The Ambassadors are calling for you to be brought up on charges. I have worked to stabilize relations with the Union. At best they think us barbarians, at worst hypocrites who act above the law.”
Evie leaned forward. “But I don’t want to press charges. How can they have a trial without me?”
Emre nodded. “Which is in our favor but there are hawks on the Union’s council that clamor for a trial, saying you were coerced or forced to be submissive.”
My hand slammed against the table, hard enough to make the wood groan and to knock over the nearest two wine glasses. The idea that I would force my mate was abhorrent. “I claimed my mate. Any man would have done the same,” I said.
“You,” Emre said, turning his cold eyes to me, “undid years of public relations, reminding everyone that Fremms are barely civilized and they kidnap Terran women.” That was an old stereotype. Fremmians and Terrans had a century’s worth of interaction and interbreeding but in the first decades of contact Fremm men were not allowed on Earth, feared they could not control their savage lust for Terran women.
“How will a wedding help?” Evie asked.
Emre took another caramel. “These are marvelous. Can you teach the palace cooks how to make these?”
Evie nodded, surprised. “Of course.”
“Excellent.” He licked the last bite of gooey candy from his fingers before continuing. “We will play up the sacred bonds of kompli and komplan. It’s rare, yes, but powerful and the media will talk of nothing else but the romance of it.”
“You would replace the image of a lawless prince with...romance?” I asked.
“You have a brave heart, son, but you do not think through the consequences of your actions. So yes, we’ll stress that you were swept up in the magic of the bond. Everyone will forget that you abducted a woman and broke a dozen Interstellar Union laws.”
Ah, there it is. I am a criminal and a dramatic show will help people forget that fact. “It is not a punishment,” I said. “It is an honor of which I am not worthy.”
“No doubt,” Emre said, arms folded. The conversation was at an end. The king had decided on a plan.
Evie said, “He’s right, Aster. It sounds like a soap opera. The media will eat it up.”
The news programs already ran too many stories about me and my kompli for my tastes. More of the same does not seem like the solution.
“Tomorrow will be the formal engagement,” Emre said. “Get rid of that cocky, self-pleased grin and try to sound sincere when you plead your case.”
“And the wedding?” Evie asked.
“When your family arrives, as soon as possible.”
I watched my mother’s face as Emre and Evie discussed the wedding. Her brow knitted and her eyes turned stormy. Finally, she snapped. “You would pollute our family with weak Terran blood!” I’m not sure if she was angry at me or Evie.
Evie stood up, a cold empty smile on her face. “You don't like the food and you don’t like the company. If this were my restaurant, I’d throw you out.”
“You cannot throw me out. I am the queen.” Baris squared her shoulders, raised her chin and her upper lip curled, revealing her razor sharp fangs. She was dug in for the fight now.
“Does that royal scepter up your-”
My hand clamped over Evie’s mouth to stop any further damage. She was furious, pounding me with her fists.
“Mother,” I said, “dinner is over. Thank you for your presence.”
Baris gave a long, cold look; judging my worth. “You’re wasting your potential. Do you always want to be the fourth son?”
I shook my head. “I do not have the head for politics. I do not want the crown, now or ever.”
Emre stood. “We will talk further tomorrow when our heads are cool.” He grabbed Baris by the elbow and steered her away. He looked back and said, “I admire your kompli’s spirit.”
Pride swelled in my chest even as Evie continued to fight me, now kicking my shins and biting my fingers. The guard nearest the door carefully avoided staring at my kompli’s struggles and he tried hard not to laugh.
When the last of the guards left the building, I released Evie.
“Don’t you ever do that again, prince or no prince!” she shouted.
“If you insulted or struck the queen, the guard would kill you,” I said.
“How can you let her talk to me like that!�
��
“She was trying to provoke you into doing something rash.”
Evie snorted, arms crossed. “Well, it worked. I’m not a fan, Aster.”
“She is my mother,” I said. Nasty, ambitious, devious, demanding: all true descriptors.
Evie reached for the nearly empty bottle of wine and drained it. “I never thought those mother-in-law jokes were real.”
Chapter Four
Evie
Birdsong and sunshine woke me. I know, logically, the computer can use any sound and lighting as an alarm but there's something about real birds twittering about that makes me content. The bed was empty and I rolled into the center, luxuriating in the warm space. A girl could get use to this.
I flung my arm out only to find the bed empty. Aster already left.
Big day today. I have to keep my composure; can't have another debacle like last night. I made myself a cup of tea and sliced an apple to pair with farmer's cheese and bread. I could really get used to life planet side.
The tablet on the counter hummed with an incoming message, probably the day's agenda. Or a snarky message from Baris about not embarrassing the family and all of Fremm by extension. No pressure.
I took a deep breath, trying to find a little piece of calm and tranquility, where Baris’s barbed comments and judging glares can’t reach me.
Actually, now that I think about it, I can't wait to get back to the ship.
I queued up some Fremm language lessons on the tablet. I knew a few phrases when I worked in the Fremm restaurant but it was in a country dialect, hardly suitable for court.
At mid-morning, a woman arrived with the first boxes of the new wardrobe. The tailor was fast.
“I’m Maja,” the woman said, looking at me expectantly. She was uncommonly beautiful, tall and lithe with azure hair in a neat plait down the back. Her skin was a greyish blue, cool like a stone in a lake. Her features were elegant and her eyes shone bright with intelligence. The way she held herself, despite just delivering my clothes, was more regal than I could ever muster.
Bride of the Alien Prince: Alpha Alien Romance (Alpha Aliens of Fremm Book 2) Page 2