Page 28 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

The fabric slid coolly across me as she draped it over my head. Her weathered hands moved with practiced grace, tucking and folding until the scarf framed my face perfectly. The weight settled like a gentle embrace. “There.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pin. Precious stones winked in a spiral pattern, their colors echoing the silk. “This belonged to my daughter.”

My throat tightened. “Mahra, I can’t-”

“I insist.” She secured the scarf with swift, sure movements. “She would have wanted someone to use it, not let it gather dust in my tent.”

The pin’s weight anchored the silk, keeping it from slipping. I touched it gently, afraid to disturb Mahra’s careful arrangement. The metal held the warmth of her hands.

“Thank you.” The words came out rougher than I intended.

She adjusted one final fold, then stepped back to examine her work. “Now you look like a proper Shakai woman. Keep your head down in the towns, and no one will look twice.”

I caught my reflection in a polished copper pot. The silk transformed me, softening my too-sharp features, hiding the stark evidence of the Temple’s violation. With my face partially concealed, I could almost pass for one of them. Almost belong.

The pin glinted in the sunlight, its spiral pattern drawing the eye away from the oddness of my human features. Mahra’s daughter must have been beautiful, wearing this. I wondered what happened to her, but didn’t dare ask.

Mahra’s weathered hands closed over mine. “If it bothers you, consider it an investment. Next time I face your Valti prince across the trading tables, he’ll remember the debt.”

“He’s not my-”

“Sure, sure.” She squeezed my fingers. “And you’re going where next?”

I pulled the device out, turned it until a soft blue light pulsed, pointing toward distant peaks. “That way.”

“How far?”

“I don’t know.” The truth burned my tongue.

“Then you’d better get started.” She patted my shoulder. “Accept help when it’s offered, little warrior. Pride makes for a cold companion on the road.”

Tharon approached, his own gear changed and weapons strapped across his back. He inclined his head to Mahra before turning to me. His hands spanned my waist as he lifted me onto the villart’s back.

The touch lingered, warm through the leather. His thumbs pressed small circles against my sides before he pulled away.

He swung up behind me, solid and steady at my back. His breath stirred the short hair at my nape through the thin fabric of the veil. “Ready?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The device’s blue light beckoned, promising answers, promising revenge. But for now, I needed his strength, his protection. The admission clawed at my throat like thorns.

“Safe journey,” Mahra called as Tharon urged the villart forward. “And remember what I said!”

The mining camp fell away behind us as we picked our way into the mountains. Tharon’s chest pressed against my back with each stride of our mount, his arms caging me as he held the reins.

I told myself it was just practicality. Just necessity.

I almost believed it.

THARON

At our midday break the wind shifted. Metal and ozone, a storm coming from the East. My nostrils flared, sorting through the layers of scent - snow on high peaks, dust from the valley below, and underneath it all, Niam.

A glint caught my eye. Too regular to be natural, too high to be a bird. One of their machines, following us even this far into the mountains.

“We need to move.” My voice was rough, despite my attempt at restraint.

Niam looked up from adjusting the straps on her boots. “Already? But we just stopped.”

“There’s a storm coming.” Not a lie. “And we’re too exposed here.”

Her thin fingers worked the last buckle into place. Even that simple motion entranced me - the precise economy of movement, the way she tested the fit before moving to stand.

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