Page 37 of The Alien's Unwilling Bride

Roqron’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Names,” he demanded.

“We’re still investigating,” Vex interjected quickly. “We didn’t want to make accusations without solid proof. But it’s clear that the resistance to our proposals goes deeper than mere traditionalism.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Roqron’s mind raced, replaying every interaction, every council meeting, searching for signs he might have missed. The betrayal burned in his chest, a painful reminder of his own fallibility.

“Leave me,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need... time.”

His brothers exchanged concerned glances but nodded, respecting his need for solitude. As they filed out, Roqron caught a glimpse of Mila hovering just outside the door. Their eyes metbriefly, and he saw the worry etched across her features. He gave her a small nod, silently asking for a moment alone.

Once the doors slid shut with a soft hiss, Roqron let out a ragged breath. The carefully maintained control he prided himself on crumbled, and with a cry of frustration, he swept his arm across the holotable. Data pads and interface crystals clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the empty room.

He growled, bracing himself against the table, his head hanging low. “Damn it all to the void.”

The soft swish of the door opening again barely registered. But then Mila’s presence filled the room, a balm to his raw emotions. He didn’t need to look up to know it was her - he’d recognize her scent and energy anywhere.

“Roq,” she said softly, moving to stand beside him. Her hand came to rest on his arm, the warmth of her touch grounding him. “Talk to me.”

Roqron straightened, turning to face her. The concern in her bright blue eyes nearly undid him. “I’ve been a fool, Mila,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I trusted her. I let her into our plans, our hopes for Tharvis. And all this time...”

Mila’s grip on his arm tightened. “This isn’t your fault, Roq. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have,” he insisted, pulling away and pacing the length of the room. “It’s my job to know, to protect Tharvis. And I failed. Spectacularly, it seems.”

“Oh, come off it,” Mila snapped, her sudden sharpness stopping Roqron in his tracks. He turned to find her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and fierce protectiveness. “You didn’t fail anyone. That duplicitous, backstabbing excuse for a scientist is the one who failed. She failed you, she failed Tharvis, and by the stars, when I get my hands on her-“

“Mila,” Roqron interrupted, a hint of amusement breaking through his dark mood. “Are you planning to commit treason on my behalf?”

Mila huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s not treason if it’s in defense of the crown. I’m pretty sure that’s a law somewhere.”

Despite everything, Roqron felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Well, it should be,” Mila grumbled. Then, her expression softening, she stepped closer to him. “Seriously, Roq. This isn’t on you. You trusted someone you thought was an ally. That’s not a weakness - it’s what good leaders do.”

Roqron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Good leaders also know when they’re being played, Mila. I should have seen the signs.”

“What signs?” Mila challenged. “The signs that she was a brilliant scientist doing groundbreaking work? The signs that she seemed dedicated to saving Tharvis? For stars’ sake, Roq, unless she was walking around with a sign saying ‘Secret Drakanor Spy’ pinned to her lab coat, how were you supposed to know?”

The mental image was so absurd that Roqron couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “I suppose that would have been helpful.”

“Exactly,” Mila said, a triumphant gleam in her eye. “So stop beating yourself up over this. What we need to do now is figure out our next move.”

Roqron nodded, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. Mila’s unwavering support and her ability to cut through his self-doubt with logic (and a healthy dose of sarcasm) never ceased to amaze him.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “We need a plan. If Dr. Zyleth has been feeding information to the Drakanor sect, we needto assume they know everything about our efforts to stabilize Tharvis’s core.”

Mila’s brow furrowed in thought. “Okay, so we change tactics. Come at the problem from an angle they won’t expect.”

“Agreed. And we need to root out any other potential traitors in our midst. If some council members are involved, we can’t trust the usual channels.”

As they began to strategize, Roqron felt a renewed sense of purpose. The betrayal still stung. But with Mila by his side, he felt stronger, more capable of facing whatever challenges lay ahead.

He watched her as she pored over the data, her brow furrowed in concentration, a strand of dark hair falling across her face. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear. Mila looked up, surprised by the tender gesture.

“What was that for?” she asked, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Roqron smiled softly. “Just... thank you. For being here. For believing in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.”

Mila’s expression softened. “Always, Roq. We’re in this together, remember? Although, if you ever doubt yourself again, I might have to sic one of Zora’s man-eating plants on you. I hear they’re particularly effective at boosting self-esteem.”

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