Page 2 of Alien Prince’s Fake Bride (The Tentacle Throne #1)

“That’s just it,” I seethe. “It makes sense.” I shudder at the idea of marrying a woman from the Imperial Court on Khav.

They’re the worst, cruelest, most vicious and most scheming group of females in the universe.

Marrying one would be like marrying a whole nest of slithering slikes of the most venomous kind.

“I have to get out of this,” I mutter. “One way or the other.”

But first things first. “We have to clean up this ship, Centurion. Interrogate any still living Vyrpy. Evacuate our own wounded; make sure they get the best care. I want a list of those recommended for medals ready in fifty hectimes. Dispatch a skeleton crew to take this ship back to base.”

The centurion nods once. “Yes, sir. Usually the Vyrpy don’t tell us much during interrogation. And you have ordered that we are not to… enhance the interrogations.”

“My order stands,” I tell him, which I have to do every time. “We will not torture them. If we can’t get information from them, send them to the usual camp for prisoners of war. Sometimes they talk among themselves about things we want to know. There shall be no mistreatment.”

“Yes, sir!” The centurion turns and marches out of the control room.

“The Vyrpy would never be so kind to their captives,” Caret’ax comments. “The reports about their prison ships leave no doubt about their cruelty. They would use any means necessary to get the information they wanted.”

“They would,” I agree. “Because they are the Vyrpy. But we are the Khavgren Empire, and we are born to rule the galaxy. We wage war in our own way, not in the way the enemy does. We are grim in battle and generous in victory. When we win, we win with honor.”

“ And when we lose, we just lose,” comes a thin voice from my belt. “ Seems like most of the time, now.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, Bellatriz,” I growl.

“ Maybe you should have,” the sword sniffs.

It irks me that she’s right. The Empire has been under constant attack for a long time now, and it seems that our victories are becoming few and far between.

Caret’ax and I help the men jettison the dead Vyrpy from the airlocks of the reconquered ship.

They’re a terrible species, bred for war, with claws and fangs and strong limbs.

While the Empire has many enemies, the Vyrpy are among the worst. Some even say they’re becoming better, more aggressive and more resilient.

It’s a long day, and the victory wasn’t all that glorious. Simply taking back a ship that we’d previously lost isn’t a source of great pride. Still, my stepfather’s message is weighing on my mind.

“Suddenly there’s an easy way out of the burden of becoming emperor,” I state as I can finally leave the retaken ship and enter the control room of my own small star cruiser, the Gladiux . “Just not get married.” I key the already warm engines to start.

“Is that what you want, sir?” Caret’ax asks carefully. “I fear the citizens of Khav would be sorely disappointed if you didn’t inherit the Tentacle Throne. They are hoping you will restore the Khavgren Empire to its former glory.”

“But at what price?” I fret, pacing back and forth as my ship slowly pulls away from the Kerberux.

“Once married to a Khavgren noblewoman, I’m more likely to die by her hand than I would be fighting three dozen battles against the Vyrpy.

Remember Prince Drusiux! Poisoned on his wedding night by his own bride.

And Emperor Spiteris! Legendary as the cheapest and most miserly man in the Empire, but then choking to death on seven pounds of gold jewelry his wife had bought the same day.

And Perito the Younger, ripped apart by six wild wrot that his wife let into the bedroom.

Cominat the Limp, Daspian the Dour, Archprince Xar, all murdered by their spouses in the most horrible ways.

And those are just the first that come to mind.

There are hundreds of other examples. Wives are deadly, Caret’ax. ”

“ Some wives are deadly,” my burly and fanged bodyguard says. “Khavgren nobles do have a tendency to kill their spouses. But there may be other options.”

I shake my head. “No, I can’t marry a Khavgren woman who’s not a noble. First, it would mean a great loss of prestige for me. Second, any such commoner woman would become just as bad as the nobles after thirty minutes in their poisonous presence. She would have to, just to survive.”

“A Khavgren woman, yes,” Caret’ax says, staying by the door to the control room, ever conscious of keeping me safe. “But there are many planets in the Khavgren Empire. And there are even some outside it where a good wife might be found.”

“A barbarian?” I ask, incredulous. “Are you suggesting I marry a barbarian woman from some backwater world that the Empire hasn’t even bothered conquering?”

He winces, being quite the barbarian himself, a primitive warrior from some unknown planet he won’t even give us the name of. “I wouldn’t use that word, sir. There may be perfectly sophisticated women living outside the Empire, but untainted by its less agreeable sides.”

I frown. “Really? Aliens, you mean. An alien wife.”

He adjusts his sword belt, a sure sign that he’s uncomfortable with this topic. “I don’t believe there’s any legal or royal objection, as long as she’s sentient, she can conceive with you, and that she’s older than twenty.”

I frown. “Caret’ax, are you about to suggest that I marry a Vyrpy woman?”

“A Vyrpy wife would probably be just as murderous as a noblewoman on Khav, sir,” he concedes. “Probably more so, if that were possible. But right now, we’re not far from a planet with alien females that might be worth inspecting, at least.”

I adjust our course to do a final patrol around this solar system, making sure there aren’t Vyrpy ships ready to attack the Kerberux again. “How alien are they?”

The big barbarian thinks about it. “They’re small, sir.

But not too small. They have a roundness to them that I think any male would find interesting.

Some have light skin, some dark. The same with the eyes.

They have smooth, silky hair.” He touches his own mess of thin, thread-like hairs.

“They have bright voices and a sweet manner. Some of them, anyway. They can be resourceful and bright. And they’re not usually murderous. ”

I lean up against a navigation console. Outside the viewport, the system’s central star slowly recedes as we speed to its outskirts. “No? That’s a point in their favor, anyway. Do they have six heads or antennas for legs?”

“No, sir. Their basic configuration is similar to ours. Possibly more like mine than yours, sir.”

I reach up to stroke the tentacles that grow from my head. “Yes, the ornamentation of us Khavgren males is known to be unusual. Do you have a picture or something of these wondrous females?”

“Regrettably not, sir. I doubt that as many as three Khavgrens in the whole Empire know about this planet, and even they likely never saw the inhabitants.”

I look out at the stars and think about it.

If I am to become Emperor, I must at least survive long enough to inherit the throne.

Having a Khavgren wife would be the greatest threat to my safety.

But an alien wife, innocent and sweet, completely new to the schemes of the Imperial Court, wide-eyed and inexperienced with intrigue…

that could work. I would be her only link to the Khavgren Empire.

“She would have no other loyalties,” I think out loud.

“With me gone, she would be as good as dead. It would be in her best interest to keep me alive for as long as possible. And she would be completely in my power, away from her own backwards planet, away from her father and her king and her friends. And if his oldest stepson and heir apparent marrying an alien woman, thus making her a royal, should happen to gravely offend my stepfather before he dies, then so much the better. Nobody can complain against that kind of total obedience.”

My mother can, of course, I think to myself. But then, she complains against everything on principle.

“Who knows, sir,” Caret’ax says, looking away, “perhaps you may even come to love her.”

“Love a wife? ” I scoff. “This is not a fairy tale, Caret’ax. This is real life.”

“These women are loveable,” he insists in his quiet way. “Surely you would prefer to love the woman you marry?”

“Well, obviously I would prefer it,” I growl. “Who wouldn’t? But I have loved before. And all it got me was pain and suffering. No, warrior. I learned my lesson. It’s better to remain cool and unemotional about these things. I don’t expect love. I only expect the Tentacle Throne.”

“Understood, sir. But still, I wish more for you than a loveless life. It would seem… barren.”

Caretax’s words hit me like a bucket of cold water. A loveless life?

I stare blindly at the viewscreen. No, I don’t want that.

I want a woman who gets me, someone to share the weight of the crown.

I need her laugh to cut through my days and soften them, her teasing to keep me grounded, her trust to ease and forget my scars.

I’ve loved before, and I swore I’d never open up again.

But deep down, I crave it: her hand in mine, her voice in the dark, her body close when I feel the galaxy falling apart around us.

A faint buzz in my chest, like some instinct, tells me she’s out there. Maybe she’s the one who won’t break me. Or maybe I’m just chasing another injury. Surely I can’t find my happiness on an alien world.

I am a prince. I will be emperor. I will be the best emperor I can be for the people of the Empire.

And as they say, being close to great power without being able to wield it is a burden very few can carry without going mad.

No woman could stay pure and uncorrupted by the Imperial court.

It may be that my life must be loveless, but dutiful.

It wouldn’t be much different from my life right now.

I sit down in the prince’s chair on the bridge of the ship and put my legs up on a navigation console. “Very well, Caret’ax. I will take a look at your aliens. And if we find a suitable one, sweet and mild and obedient, then who knows what kind of empress the Khavgren Empire will gain.”