Page 41 of Alien Prince (Alien Abductions and Seductions #1)

Chapter Seven

Emily

Since the storm, I’ve had no choice but to accept that all of this is real. The rain, the thunder, the way the walls seemed to shake with every strike of lightning… but even more than that, Kael, this place, the vessel… All of this has been far too vivid and visceral to be anything but reality.

I’m stuck here, on a planet I don’t understand, surrounded by people who see me as nothing more than an intergalactic import. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to Earth, and that thought sits heavy in my chest, a weight I can’t shake no matter how hard I try.

But if I’m here—if this is my life now—then I have to survive.

And survival means playing the part.

Which is why I’m doing everything I can to make sure Kael has no reason to get rid of me.

It’s not easy. Every conversation with him feels like walking a tightrope. He’s infuriatingly cold, sharp-tongued, and so rigidly tied to his traditions that I sometimes wonder if he even knows how to bend.

But I can’t afford to let my frustration show, not if I want to stay in his good graces, so I smile when I don’t feel like smiling. I listen when all I want to do is argue. I study his people’s customs and history, pouring over their ancient texts late into the night, even when the alien script makes my head ache.

I’m a reader. I’ve always been a reader. Learning languages was something that always came easily to me, but this alien language is confusing and maddening at times.

Just like Kael.

And yet, it’s not enough to simply pretend . Kael doesn’t miss much. He sees through superficial efforts like a hawk spotting prey. If I’m going to convince him that I’m worth keeping around, I have to actually understand his world.

It’s exhausting, but it’s better than the alternative. I’ve seen the way he looks at me sometimes, like he’s weighing me, measuring me against some invisible standard. One wrong move, one misstep, and I’m gone.

I’m not na?ve enough to think that being sent back to Earth is even an option. If Kael decides I’m unfit, I doubt there will be much of a future for me at all.

My stomach twists, and I press my palms against the cool surface of the table in front of me, focusing on the strange, flowing script of the book I’ve been trying to decipher.

“Emily.”

His voice startles me, low and commanding.

I glance up to see him standing in the doorway, his piercing violet eyes fixed on me.

“Yes?” I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.

He steps closer, his presence filling the room in that maddening way it always does. “You’ve been in here for hours. Have you made progress?”

I nod, holding up the book. “I think I understand most of it, though your ancestors were really fond of metaphors, and they aren’t exactly like the metaphors back on Earth so maybe they aren’t actually metaphors? I don’t know.” I rub my temples. I don’t want to admit this aloud, but I’m starting to get a headache.

His lips twitch—almost, but not quite, a smile. “They valued subtlety and nuance.”

“Subtlety, sure,” I say, my voice betraying a hint of sarcasm, “but some of this reads like a riddle for the sake of being confusing.”

He raises a brow, and I think I’ve crossed a line, but then he leans against the edge of the table, his gaze never leaving mine. “Perhaps,” he says slowly, “you’re beginning to understand more than you realize.”

Is that a compliment or a challenge?

Maybe both.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus. I can’t afford to let my guard down—not with him. Not with anyone.

Because as much as I want to survive, part of me also wants to prove that I can thrive.

Even here.

I sit quietly in the corner of the council chamber, pretending to focus on the ancient text in my lap. In truth, I’m watching Kael.

He’s at the head of the long table, surrounded by advisors who look like they’ve spent centuries mastering the art of speaking without actually saying anything. The discussion today is about a struggling colony on Erythos, its people desperate for resources after a failed harvest.

Most of the council members talk about numbers—allocations, percentages, logistics—but Kael’s voice cuts through the noise like a horn.

“We cannot abandon them,” he says, his tone firm but controlled. “The colony provides vital support to the northern provinces. If we do not intervene now, their collapse will ripple through the entire kingdom.”

One of the older councilors, a man with a face as sharp as his words, raises a skeptical brow. “And what would you have us sacrifice, Your Highthos? Shall we drain the central regions to save the outskirts? It is a question of priorities.”

Kael leans forward, his violet eyes blazing. “It is a question of loyalty. They are our people. Their survival is not negotiable.”

The chamber falls silent. At least the older councilor has the decency to look chastened.

Hmm. Maybe Kael is more than the icy, arrogant prince I’ve been dealing with. There’s something else beneath the surface—something fierce and unyielding, yes, but also deeply compassionate. He cares about his people, even if he hides it behind that infuriating stoicism.

And that makes him even harder to figure out.

It’s not as if I hadn’t seen a flash of this before.

Back in that shelter.

When he comforted me during the storm.

His arms wrapped around me…

I felt him.

His desire.

But he hadn’t made a move to take me sexually.

In my dreams, though…

I shake my head and try to focus on the text. I can’t get wrapped up in all of that.

Thankfully, the meeting ends shortly after, the councilors filing out of the room in pairs, their whispered conversations blending into the hum of the palace. I linger, pretending to organize my notes, and catch bits and pieces of their chatter.

“—needs to secure the throne…”

“…a queen would settle this instability…”

I freeze, my pulse quickening. They’re not even subtle about it. Kael needs a queen. Not because of love or connection, but because it’s what’s expected of him. Because without one, his hold on the throne is shaky at best despite all of his people’s traditions and heritage.

The realization twists something deep inside me.

When the room finally empties, I glance toward Kael, who’s still standing at the table, his hands braced against its surface. He looks tired, his shoulders tense. He’s the prince, but his parents weren’t here. The king is absent. Why? Why does it seem like the weight of the entire kingdom—the entire planet—is pressing down on him?

I gather my courage and cross the room, stopping a few feet away from him. “You were impressive in there,” I say, keeping my voice gentle.

He doesn’t look at me. “It was my duty.”

“And your needing a queen thing,” I press, my words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Is that your duty too?”

His hands tighten on the edge of the table, his knuckles going pale. After a long, deathly quiet moment, he straightens, his expression shuttering into that cold mask I hate so much. “It is not your concern,” he says curtly, turning away from me.

“Not my concern?” I step closer, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “You brought me here. I’m supposed to be this queen, right? Don’t you think I deserve to know what’s really going on?”

He finally turns, his violet eyes meeting mine with a sharp intensity that makes me want to step back and lean closer all at once. “What you deserve,” he says quietly, “is to understand that there are things beyond your control. Beyond mine.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me about them?” I demand.

“Because it changes nothing,” he snaps, his voice suddenly sharp. “Your role here is the same, regardless of what the council whispers or what I choose to share.”

His words hit like a slap, and I’m too stunned to respond.

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his silver hair, and I catch the faintest flicker of regret in his expression.

“This conversation is over,” he says, his tone softer now but no less final. “Do not press me on this again.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the empty chamber with more questions than answers.