Page 171 of Psycho Pack

All five alphas are dressed in the same crisp white military uniform that emphasizes their builds, including Plague, which surprises me. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to be immediately recognized as the prince he is. Other than the fact Plague is wearing white gloves, the only difference between them is the geometric patterns on their scarves. Valek still has the one he found last night, the silver threads accentuating his eyes. Wraith is tense and uneasy in his formal clothing, but he still looks regal.

They all do.

Regal and heroic.

"We clean up good, huh?" Whiskey says, voicing what I'm sure we're all thinking.

I can't help but laugh.

"You look beautiful," Plague murmurs, his eyes roaming over me with unconcealed admiration. "As always."

My face heats up at his words. It feels strange to be standing here, dressed like I'm royalty myself. "So do you," I manage to reply. "All of you."

Thane clears his throat. "We should get going," he says gruffly, but I don't miss the way his gaze lingers on me. "The city awaits."

By the time we make it to the front entrance of the palace, I'm practically vibrating with excitement. The alphas seem to feed off my energy, their usual wariness giving way to what seems to be genuine enthusiasm as we follow Plague out to the courtyard.

When we step out into the bright Surhiiran morning, I have to blink against the dazzling light reflecting off all that white stone. The air is crisp and clean, carrying the scent of flowers I can't name and spices I've never tasted.

I'm going to have to change that.

Plague leads us down sweeping staircases and through bustling courtyards. I notice the way people stop and stare as we pass, their eyes widening in recognition as they catch sight of Plague in spite of his military uniform. Many bow deeply, murmuring "Your Highness" with clear reverence and confusion.

I can tell it makes Plague uncomfortable. His shoulders tense with each greeting, and he keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead. But he doesn't falter, doesn't try to hide. He just keeps moving forward, one hand resting protectively at the small of my back.

"You're going to have to make an announcement," Thane says to him in a wry tone. "They all think you're back from the dead."

"It feels like I am," Plague mutters.

I give him a sympathetic smile.

We reach what must be the main shopping district, and I'm immediately overwhelmed by the sheer variety of goods on display. Stalls and shops line the streets, offering everything from intricate jewelry to exotic fruits in every shape, color, and texture imaginable. The scents of cooking food and fragrant oils mingle in the air, making my mouth water.

I stop in front of a fruit cart, my eyes immediately drawn to a fruit about the size of my fist. It has a thick, leathery rind in deep burgundy. The crown-like protrusion at its top draws my eye, nature's own attempt at royal decoration.

"What's that one?" I ask, pointing to it.

"That is a pomegranate," Plague replies. "Our national fruit."

"Would you like to try one?" Thane asks from my other side. "They're very good. They were my favorite fruit growing up."

Wraith nods in agreement.

"They're juicy," Valek adds. "Like eating blood pods."

"Probably the wayyoueat them," Whiskey says to him with a snort.

Plague is already reaching for his coin purse.

"No need to pay," the middle-aged vendor says quickly, materializing out of nowhere and grabbing the pomegranate with the richest coloring. His eyes are wide as saucers as he shoves the pomegranate into Plague's hands. Then another, and another, until Plague's arms are comically full. "Not for the prince."

"Let me," Plague says to the vendor with a weary sigh. He comes off a bit more menacingly than I'm sure he intends, and the vendor looks like he's about to shit a brick.

Fortunately, Whiskey notices right away. "Sorry, bro," he says to the vendor, patting the bewildered man's back. He hits him hard enough to make him stumble. "He doesn't intend to come off as a frigid asshole. It's just the way he is."

The vendor's eyes go wide as he stares at Whiskey, then Plague.

"It would make me happy," Plague says stiffly, forcing a smile. He puts the pomegranates in his arms back in the cart, all except for the best one, and gets out his coin purse. He pulls out a few gilded coins with the ibis embossed on them andhands them to the vendor. "I'm sorry I frightened you. You have nothing to fear from the royal family."

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