Page 1 of Tech Prince Troubles (Runaway Prince Hotel #6)

Chapter One

ADRI

a long way to travel for espresso

C rown Prince Frank of Niralen and environmental influencer Kaia Blue’s lavish engagement party had been the talk of society for weeks.

The venue’s vibrant atmosphere fit their personalities perfectly—the glass sculptures were stunning, and on any other day, I could sit in the gardens with my drawing pad for hours, completely at peace.

Instead, I longed for the quiet comfort of our island and counted the minutes until it was acceptable to leave.

While the happy couple danced, jumped, and laughed with their closest friends, the relentless thump , thump , thump of their terrible taste in music battled the crowd’s incessant chatter, torturing my senses. It was all too loud, too pressing. How did Frank stand this… constant cacophony?

Despite my noise filter dulling the worst of it, each beat made it harder to breathe, harder to focus.

Yet, as his sibling and representative of our country, I was expected—required—to engage.

While an engagement was a human custom, our mins—parents, as humans called them—considered it the perfect setting to forge new alliances and reinforce old ones.

My smile felt brittle, like an overclocked CPU.

My throat felt raw. My carefully chosen outfit—a sleeveless tunic and layered skirts flowing from soft silver to midnight blue—grew tighter and more restrictive as the evening wore on in this overstimulated environment.

The phrase “talking someone’s ear off” made so much sense now.

Even when the music faded to bearable levels, they were all talking over and through each other, as if being heard was as essential as breathing.

Now and then, I caught glimpses of our mins through the crowd, their opalescent deep periwinkle skin a stark contrast to Kaia’s mother’s warm copper and her father’s freckled, pale tones.

Mins’ encouraging messages hummed along my core, warm but doing little to boost my confidence in fielding questions about our Bee Restoration Project.

No one was interested in the technical aspects—my specialty as a tech mage.

Instead, they wanted to be dazzled by the green walls, the seed bombs, the hives—the visible aspects that Frank and our mins, as biomancers, were much better equipped to explain.

“Hi.” A petite white human with long blond hair in a glittery, form-fitting orange dress beamed up at me, eyes crinkling as he raised his glass—brimming with a blue foamy cocktail that seemed popular.

He exuded the same bubbling joy many of Kaia’s friends showed. Or she, perhaps. Humans used many different pronouns besides he, which was the only pronoun we used.

I returned the smile. “Hello.”

“You’re Frank’s brother, right?” He pointed at my face with a sharp orange nail. “I recognized the marks on your forehead.”

“I am.” I kept my smile even, hoping it masked my irritation.

Why did humans insist on pointing when they considered it rude?

The energy lines shimmering beneath the skin on my forehead marked my royal lineage—the only lines we could show or hide at will.

For high-profile events like this one, Min-Tess insisted we show them. Humans seemed obsessed with them.

“His are green, though, not blue like yours. Is that because you’re a tech mage and Frank’s a biomancer?”

Perhaps I’d underestimated Kaia’s friends. “It is. Yes.” Though he was the first who understood the distinction. It could be she or they, too, but asking for pronouns felt too forward when he hadn’t introduced himself.

“It’s incredible how your family can just…

connect with the planet, you know?” He waved his arms with a passion belying his delicate figure and nearly spilled his cocktail.

“Oops. I swear I only had two so far.” He set the glass on the nearest table.

“Kaia and Frank’s podcast about bioenergy is so awesome.

Were you at her open mic poetry event last month? Epic.”

I shook my head. I only attended gatherings my status—or Min—required of me. Though their podcasts were entertaining enough—despite their music choices—and a testament to how well-suited they were.

Kaia had read some of her poems after dinner recently, which made for a pleasant change, as Frank and our mins’ passion for biomancy dominated most conversations at home.

As the sole tech mage, I couldn’t help but feel lonely, excluded.

It gave me too much time to notice the way Frank’s energy lines glowed when he talked about Kaia and their podcast. That kind of deep connection—it wasn’t something I’d managed… yet.

“…and isn’t this venue divine?”

I blinked at the glass sculptures hanging above us and nodded, worried I’d appeared inattentive.

While I gathered my thoughts, he continued, telling me all about the venue, the artist, and his work.

Words tumbled out of him as if he were running out of time—his drink long forgotten—leaving me no space to respond.

All I could do was nod, smile, and admire the excellent glasswork .

“Kaia told me it’s rude to comment on your eating habits—well, lack of—but I have to ask. Do you drink those ghastly lavender honey lattes Frank seems into this month?”

For the first time tonight, my smile felt genuine. “I only drink espresso.” The rich, bitter aroma grounded me, reminding me to slow down and breathe. I never understood Frank’s desire to change what he drank every month. Considering his own vile cocktail, though, his reaction seemed dramatic.

“Ohhh, I love a good coffee to wake me up! But espresso is too small, too serious. I prefer a large caramel macchiato after my morning yoga.”

I could have guessed he’d go for something sweet that only liminally resembled coffee. “Caramel smells… inviting.”

“Doesn’t it just? Anyway, this crowd is pretty wild, huh?”

That was one word for it. “Yes.” What else was there to say?

Waving enthusiastically at someone across the room, he picked up his forgotten cocktail with a bright smile. “Well, it was great chatting!” He downed the frothy blue swill and smacked his lips as if it were the best he’d ever tasted. “But it’s time to dance. Catch you later.”

Swinging to the rhythm of the thumping music, he danced away, giving a final twirl and wave before melting into the crowd.

I envied his ease in this discordant cacophony, and Frank’s when he whirled past with Kaia, all beaming smiles and happiness.

He in a tailored emerald tunic accentuating his broad, muscular frame atop a flowy, layered skirt.

She in a wide-legged, deep-green jumpsuit, cinched at the waist. They made a beautiful pair.

Overwhelm and fatigue hit me with bright lights and flashes of cameras glinting off the vibrant glass sculptures.

I circled the crowd to escape to the gardens, forcing a smile when someone addressed me, nodding at their inaudible comments and shaking their hands, always conscious of how their glances dipped to my three elongated fingers curling around their five, however briefly.

To think that in a few months—their wedding day—I’d have to do this all over again.

While I appreciated Frank and Kaia’s thoughtful choice of venue, these beautiful gardens—intended to provide me refuge—were neither silent nor peaceful, merely…

muted. Still, despite the beat thumping against my system even here, I could breathe more easily and enjoy the glass sculptures scattered among the plants.

A regal figure with brown, sun-kissed skin whose yellow eyes betrayed his naga heritage nodded in greeting. I braced for a conversation as I returned the gesture, but he let me pass without a comment. I wasn’t the only one seeking solace from the noise.

Not long until I could politely disappear, and tomorrow, I’d sit in my own little garden, listening to the birds and the wind.

Where I could just be , feel the energy of the island thrum through me, instead of this insistent thumping.

I hovered a hand over a vibrant flower made of glass, so delicate it seemed to float among the thriving green bushes, but I felt no energy.

A soft ping interrupted my thoughts.

Min-Tess drifted gracefully down the path, the tips of his long white fiber-optic hair sparkling, his intricate violet layered dress whispering around him, exuding his regal status. ::I knew I’d find you here. These gardens are beautiful, aren’t they? So full of life.::

His assistant hovered at a distance, blocking the path to give us space.

Dressed in his preferred black suit-dress, he was often mistaken for a bodyguard, which suited Min—Queen Tess of Niralen—well.

It meant fewer questions about the lack of an actual bodyguard and eliminated the need to disclose our internal security modules .

His skirt brushed mine as he joined me and studied me with a tilted head.

I turned back to the glass flower. ::Why can’t I sense energy in glass? Something that takes so much work to make should have energy, shouldn’t it?::

He reached out and hovered his hand next to mine, his energy lines flashing sage beneath the shimmering top layer of his skin, where mine glowed cerulean.

::Human-made objects carry the maker’s energy inside. Contained. Protected. It marks… ownership. Intention. It’s not for us to absorb. Only to admire.::

As I processed what that meant, he guided my hand to the nearest bush.

It thrived compared to the glass and willingly shared its energy with me, though plants didn’t nurture me the way they did my mins or Frank.

I could still sense my family’s biomantic influence, even here, in this very human city.

Warmth sparked along our energetic bond as Min sent, ::You worry too much, Chkchk, about our differences.::

I couldn’t help it. Our differences were part of our everyday life. From answering biomancy questions from strangers to the way a bush filled Min’s energy storage times ten compared to mine.

::You’ve handled yourself well tonight. We received much praise about your extensive knowledge, and you can expect invitations for follow-up meetings soon.:: Min twirled around and held out his hand. ::I’d best let our King have his turn in the gardens now. Ready to go back in?::

Laughter from Min-Oliver echoed across our bond as I touched my palm to Min’s—fingers aligned, three to three—and flooded his system with gratitude.

I was nowhere near ready. All I could think about was having to attend more meetings instead of spending my days with our tech teams, doing what I loved.

But the sooner I went back in, the sooner I could leave .

As the evening progressed, the noise, the lights, and the music grew worse—louder, more vibrant—fraying my senses just shy of frying them. My storage capacity buzzed with the information from all the conversations—stored with permission—as if I were drunk.

Nothing seemed to bother our mins, who sat holding hands as they chatted with various dignitaries, nor Frank, who twirled Kaia on the dance floor, fresh and vibrant, as if it were their first dance of the evening. Their joy shook me to my core, dulling Min’s kind words. I didn’t belong here.

I turned and left.

An attendant nodded at me as I approached, disappearing between the racks before I turned in my ticket. He returned with my cloak and handed it to me with a smile. He also slid a small card across the counter as I wrapped my cloak around myself.

“Safe travels, Your Highness. Your ride will be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you.” I took the card in confusion and stared at it as I exited and breathed in the fresh, chilled night air.

It was a simple white card with a QR code next to the text, Need to run away?

Check out the Renversé Hotel at Renversé Plaza, Princedelphia, Oregon.

Beneath it, someone had written, Ask for Layla.

Did I look that bad? I’d been trying so hard not to let my feelings show. The exhaustion. My frayed senses. The information overload.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”

I blinked at our driver, who bowed and held the car door open.

“Yes. Thank you,” I mumbled as I sat in the backseat, clutching the card to my chest. When even our driver asked, I had to appear as if my systems had fried.

Images of a plaza with a fountain and a seaside city popped up on my internal screen as I placed my fingers on the QR code, along with directions.

I zoomed in on the plaza. The hotel—inviting and well-maintained at first glance—stood to one side, and a coffee shop with a small patio called Le Café Magnifique on the other.

It brought up memories of the last espresso I’d had—a mediocre one, hours before the party.

I craved one now as much as I craved quiet.

It seemed like a wonderful place to disappear to.

I accessed my system. There was a bus leaving in about an hour.

It was a long way to travel for espresso, but it wasn’t about the coffee.

It was the idea of being somewhere I wouldn’t have to perform, somewhere without the pressure of representing our kingdom.

Somewhere I could breathe. Excitement flooded my system—the same feeling that hit me when working with Kin-Bertie, my mentor, fixing systems and finding solutions.

I booked a seat, using my secured account to hide my tracks.

I was running away to Princedelphia.