Page 28 of Alien Prince’s Fake Bride (The Tentacle Throne #1)

The initial humor has completely evaporated.

The air in the tent crackles with an unseen energy, thick with confusion and a growing sense of danger.

I can feel the power surging through me, a wild, untamed current responding to every stray thought, every flicker of my subconscious.

I’m losing control, and the thousands of soldiers around us are now witnesses to something inexplicable and potentially dangerous.

He pulls me along with him, out of the tent. I stare at the ground, my gaze carving a track in the hard floor. My own ring glows, too, noticeable even in the bright sunlight outside the tent.

I take it off, and notice the Syntrix feeling abate. “That’s crazy.”

We stop between two red tents where soldiers live, Caret’ax a few feet away. Mareliux looks me up and down, checking for injuries. “We knew you were strong with the Syntrix, but this is almost too much.”

“Not almost,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “Absolutely too much.”

“She never had a chance to properly train her Syntrix control,” Bellatrix reminds us from her scabbard.

“I think that should be a priority before we get to Khav. We wouldn’t want the next empress to be known for being wild like that.

People will start talking about the Forbidden Arts.

It’s difficult to get rid of a reputation for being a witch. ”

“I think it’s the ring,” I tell them, holding it up. “I seem fine now that I took it off.”

“The rings contain no Syntrix,” Mareliux says, holding up his hand and looking at the ring on his finger. “They don’t give it off. They simply shine because there is a concentration of Syntrix nearby.”

“Your common, joined Syntrix,” Bellatriz says.

“You’re both strong by yourselves, but you seem to be extremely strong when together.

Especially after the wedding. It’s very uncommon for the Syntrix of two people to actually flow together and strengthen each other ever further.

But it’s not unknown. There’s even a name for it, but I know you don’t want it mentioned.

Anyway, tell me well before you two try to un-join it again.

I want to be on another planet when that happens. ”

“What’s the name for that?” I ask, controlling my voice better. “Soulbound?” I take a guess about a term I just heard someone whisper in that tent.

“That’s the name,” Mareliux ponders, staring at the distant podium where we were wedded. “But it’s an old myth, surely. Nobody’s Soulbound these days. Certainly not with—” he stops.

“With aliens,” I continue his obvious statement. “Yeah, even to me it sounds weird. Will I be able to control it on the way to Khav?”

“It takes most children a long time to control,” Mareliux says. “But they’re not strong in the Syntrix, so they can’t cause that kind of chaos. They have time to learn. Years. You have days.”

“Sorry,” I tell him. “I just couldn’t control it. I won’t wear that ring again.”

“ That would ruin the whole marriage scheme,” Bellatriz points out.

“ Wear it. The ring shines because of your Syntrix, it’s not the ring that makes your Syntrix go haywire.

It will fluctuate, from high peaks like just now to deep valleys when you can barely feel it at all.

Think of the ring as an indicator of how strong your Syntrix is.

When it shines brightly, maybe avoid sharp objects and masses of people. ”

“Damn,” I manage. This took a turn for the scary.

Mareliux comes in close and gently embraces me.

“I think it will work itself out. At worst, people will think we’re really Soulbound.

That will only strengthen the plan. You did well, Umbra.

Anyone who sees the recording of the ceremony will think it’s real.

Keep it up, and this will work better than we could hope for. ”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll do my best.” I look up at him. Two of his tendrils are lazily twisting themselves together in a double spiral, then uncoiling. It’s an interesting fidget, extremely alien. And I know what those tendrils can do.

“Someone’s looking,” I whisper. “You should kiss me.”

Without checking who’s looking at us, he gives me a warm smile, bends his neck, and gives me a soft, long kiss that he ends by flicking his tongue along my lips.

“Who’s looking?” he whispers, not taking his eyes off mine.

I nod towards the bodyguard. “Caret’ax.”

He frowns. “But he already knows this is not real!”

I shrug innocently. “He was looking.”

Mareliux chuckles. “You’re a charming one, Umbra. I thought we were being spied on by the Quaestor!”

“Maybe we are,” I sniff, relieved that the Syntrix insanity has weakened. “You said we never know who might be looking when we’re in public.”

“You’re taking this very seriously, and I appreciate it,” Mareliux says. “Laugh as if I just said something funny.”

I widen my eyes and gasp, then lightly slap his chest with one hand while I lay my head back and laugh. “You’re so crazy!”

“ My sweet, crystal-grinding maker,” Bellatriz chirps softly. “ She’s a natural! You’re not paying her enough, Prince.”

“Mmm. We’ll look at the price when this is all over,” the prince says and takes my hand again. “Shall we try to get back in there? Let me know if you think you’ll make swords fly again.”

“We can try,” I say and look lovingly into his eyes. It’s not hard to do. Once more he reacted to problems I made with grace and kindness, even during his own wedding reception. He does have some genuinely princely qualities.

We go back in. Everyone bounces up, snapping to attention.

“The Princess Umbra has now taken control of all the Syntrix on Grefve,” Mareliux announces into the silence.

“She didn’t want any of it to get away, hence that brief moment of swords flying.

We both wanted our wedding to be truly unforgettable for everyone, and now it is. Let us continue the reception!”

A relieved “ahh” goes through the tent, as well as soft, indulgent laughter.

We take our places.

“Everything all right, Princess Umbra?” Sigise asks softly beside me. She’s retrieved her sword and looks none the worse for wear.

“Just had too much Syntrix,” I reply. “I haven’t learned to control it. It should be fine now.”

“One trick to control Syntrix is to close your eyes and imagine being in a dark room,” the colonel says, leaning in close. “You can’t see anything. It makes it harder to imagine objects that you might throw without meaning to.”

“Good tip,” I whisper back. “Thank you.” I turn to Mareliux. “You called me ‘princess’.”

“You’re married to a prince,” he says calmly while the tent settles down and everyone starts eating. “It’s tradition that a prince’s wife receives the title of Princess. The Emperor must formally bestow it, but he hasn’t had time and will do so when he meets you.”

I don’t like the sound of any of this. “ Please tell me it’s just a title that doesn’t mean anything. I couldn’t handle it.”

One of his tentacles uncurls. “It’s basically an empty title, yes. It won’t grant you any fiefdom or powers.”

The reception is done with military efficiency.

The general gives a nice speech, and so does Mareliux.

He makes it up on the spot, but I think he strikes a good balance between being funny and talking about our love.

I pretend to wipe a tear, but I don’t have to pretend very hard.

It is a genuinely good speech that makes me half-wish this was all real.

Well, more than half. But I can't start hoping for more.

When he sits down, to thunderous cheers and applause as all the soldiers get to their feet and pound on the tables, I lean over to kiss his cheek. Then I whisper into his ear. “That was a really nice one. You can re-use that for your real wedding.”

“I doubt I’ll ever have one,” he says, smiling as if I said something sweet.

It takes a while for the crowd to settle down.

To some surprise, Quaestor Preniat gets to his feet. “I suppose I should also say a few words.”

I glance at Mareliux. He’s frowning for a short moment, then catches himself and smiles good-naturedly.

The Quaestor clears his throat, his crusty gaze sweeping over the assembled mass of soldiers with an air of detached amusement.

"Your Highness. Oh, sorry. High nesses , now. My apologies,” he begins, his creaky voice carrying a distinct edge.

"What a heartwarming occasion this is. To witness such a swift blossoming of affection, particularly amidst the immense rigors of life in constant battle and the responsibilities of an Imperial prince, is truly remarkable . One can only admire the expediency with which fate, or perhaps other forces, have brought these two souls together.”

He emphasizes some words, making it all sound completely sarcastic.

He turns to me, pale gaze resting on my chest. “Oh, but I have committed another grave error. Our new future princess is an alien and may be offended that I presume she has a soul. If you do not, Ambassador Umbra, I apologize. In my defence, your species and possible culture — is there one? — are completely unknown to me, and indeed to everyone here. If only I’d had the time to do some research into your planet, wherever it may be!

But alas. The heir apparent simply had to get married immediately .

Surely a sign of the very greatest love. ”

People are frowning at his tone, and an irritated murmur goes through the crowd.

It strikes me that this is not the place to be sarcastic about Mareliux or his wife.

These soldiers are armed to the teeth and loyal to their prince.

Preniat must be pretty sure of himself to act this way here and now.

Does he know something? Is it not just suspicion?