Page 39 of The Alien's Unwilling Bride

“Although,” Zora mused, eyeing the rock-hard lump on the baking sheet, “we might be onto something there. Imagine throwing these at the Drakanor. We could call it Operation Cookie Monster.”

Lirael’s brow furrowed. “Ah, I see. Perhaps... perhaps you might allow me to assist? We have a similar confection here on Tharvis. It uses crystallized nectar from the Lumina flower and ground Zephyr nuts. Less likely to cause bodily harm, I believe.”

Mila exchanged glances with her sisters. “Why not? We can’t possibly make it any worse. Unless one of you is hiding some secret baking skills?”

Raelee held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t look at me. The only thing I can make is reservations.”

With Lirael’s guidance, they started fresh. The kitchen came alive with a new energy as staff and royalty worked side by side. Mila found herself laughing more than she had in days, the stress of recent events melting away in the face of this simple, joyful task.

“You know,” Zora said, carefully measuring out the crystallized nectar, “this reminds me of that time Mom tried to teach us how to make her famous snickerdoodles.”

Mila grinned at the memory. “Oh yeah, and Dad kept sneaking in to steal the dough?”

“And Mom caught him red-handed,” Raelee added, “so she made him wear that ridiculous flowery apron and help out!”

The sisters dissolved into giggles, much to the bewilderment of the Tharvisian staff. Mila felt a pang of homesickness, but it was tempered by the warmth of the memory and the presence of her sisters.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lirael pulled a tray from the oven. The scent that wafted through the kitchen was heavenly, a perfect blend of sweet and nutty.

“They actually look like cookies,” Zora breathed, awe in her voice. “And not like potential murder weapons. Progress!”

Mila reached for one, ignoring the heat as she took a bite. Flavors exploded on her tongue – sweet and buttery with a hint of something almost floral. “Oh my god,” she mumbled around the mouthful. “We did it. We actually did it. Mom would be proud.”

“Or horrified at the state of this kitchen,” Raelee quipped, gesturing at the flour-covered disaster around them. “But definitely proud.”

Raelee pumped her fist in the air. “Victory! Now go, woman. Go forth and woo your prince with baked goods! Just maybe clean up a bit first. You look like you’ve been in a fight with a flour mill, and the flour mill won.”

Mila rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she carefully packed the cookies into a container. “Thanks, you guys. This was... this was exactly what I needed.”

Her sisters shooed her out of the kitchen, their encouragement following her down the hall. Mila’s heart racedas she approached the lab where she knew Roq would be working. She paused outside the door, suddenly nervous. What if this was stupid? What if he didn’t like them?

“You have got to get your shit together, Mila,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve faced down alien predators and angry council members. You can handle giving a boy some cookies.” Taking a deep breath, she palmed open the door.

Roq looked up from his workstation, surprise flickering across his features. “Mila? What are you-“ He stopped, sniffing the air. “What is that smell? And why do you look like you’ve been in a fight with a Tharvisian snow beast?”

Mila held out the container like a peace offering. “Cookies. Well, Tharvisian cookies. It’s a long story involving my sisters, a lot of flour, and some very patient kitchen staff. Don’t worry, the flour’s not contagious.”

A smile blossomed on his face, softening the lines of stress that had been etched there for days. “You... baked for me?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Mila teased, even as warmth bloomed in her chest at his reaction. “I’ll have you know I’m a woman of many talents. Baking, apparently, isn’t one of them, but I’m great at delegating.”

Roq reached for a cookie, examining it closely before taking a bite. His eyes widened, and Mila held her breath.

“This is... incredible,” he said, reaching for another. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. Though I’m a bit concerned about what the kitchen looks like if you’re in this state.”

Mila waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know, just a minor flour explosion. Nothing the royal cleaning staff can’t handle. Hopefully.”

Roq set down the cookies, his expression turning serious. He stepped closer to Mila, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You did all this for me?”

Mila swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how little space there was between them. “Of course. I... I care about you, Roq. I hate seeing you so weighed down by everything. Plus, I figured if the cookies turned out inedible, we could always use them as projectiles against any future Drakanor attacks.”

Roq’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch impossibly gentle as he brushed away a smudge of flour. “Mila,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. “You are... extraordinary. You know that? Covered in flour and all.”

TWENTY-SIX

Mila’s heart thundered in her chest. She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “Takes one to know one, Your Highness. Even if you are disturbingly flour-free.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then Roq’s lips were on hers, soft and warm and tasting of sweet cookies. Mila melted into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair, no doubt leaving floury streaks.

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