Page 25 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

Bavak kept watch while I cleaned up, though his constant glances in my direction grated on my nerves.

“Speak your mind,” I ordered.

“The Frostling. She’s different from the stories.”

I splashed water over my face to hide my reaction. “Different how?”

“The old tales say they’re monsters. But she’s...” He stopped, searching for words.

“Choose your next words with care.” The beast stirred inside me, protective and possessive.

“She carries herself like a queen, my prince. Not a monster at all.”

Smart man. I nodded my approval as I pulled my tunic back on.

A splash of purple caught my attention as we walked back through the forest. Wild mountain flowers grew in a small patch between the trees.

My mother’s voice drifted through memory: “Really, Tharon. Flowers? Such a common gesture. A prince should give jewels, not weeds.”

The memory stung, but I knelt anyway, gathering the purple blooms. Let them think what they wanted. Niam would understand.

Voices drifted through the trees as we approached camp.

“Did you see her skin? White as snow...”

“They say Frostlings steal children in the night...”

“The prince brought her. Must be important...”

“But whatisshe?”

My pride soared for my mate. Let them wonder. Let them whisper. Niam would walk among them with her head high, never flinching from their stares. She’d survived horrors they couldn’t imagine, fought battles they’d never understand.

And she was mine.

Soon, I’d make her see that too.

I caught sight of her through the trees, speaking with Mahra. Her close-cropped red hair caught the sunlight like flames. My steps quickened of their own accord.

The flowers felt foolish in my hand now, but I wouldn’t discard them. She deserved every scrap of beauty I could give her.

Mahra had dressed Niam in traditional Shakai clothing - fitted leather pants and a flowing tunic that caught the light. Copper threads woven through the fabric sparkled with each movement, tiny gems studded the belt at her waist. The sight of her in our clothes made my breath catch.

A group of children circled her feet, pestering her with questions. Their high-pitched voices carried across the camp.

“Do Frostlings really eat snow?”

“Can you freeze people with a touch?”

“Why is your hair red like fire?”

Niam’s laugh rang out, clear and bright. “No, we don’t eat snow. And I’ve never frozen anyone.” She knelt down to their level. “But I do know stories about brave warriors who fought ice dragons.”

“Tell us! Tell us!”

I gripped the flowers behind my back, suddenly unsure of my approach. The beast inside me wanted to charge forward, claim her attention. But watching her surrounded by curious children, her face lit with joy, made me pause.

“Well,” she started, “there was once a warrior princess who lived in a castle made of ice...”

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