Page 53 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

“What happens now?” I asked softly.

“We rest. Tomorrow, we reach the inn, then wait for a response to our message.” Tharon set aside his empty bowl. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about destroying the Temple?”

“Never.” Steel crept into my voice. “Those girls deserve justice.”

“Then we’ll find a way.” He reached across the space between us, thumb brushing my cheek. “Together.”

The word held weight, promise. I leaned into his touch, letting myself believe in possibility.

The Temple’s reach was long, the path ahead uncertain. But here, in this sheltered valley with my fierce prince, I felt something foreign stir within me.

Hope.

THARON

The mountain path wound down through the purple-needled pines as evening light painted long shadows across the valley. Two days of hard travel had done nothing to dim my awareness of Niam’s body pressed against mine. Each step of the villart brought another wave of her scent - herbs and sunlight mixing with traces of our shared passion.

The Crossroads Inn emerged around the final bend, its weathered stone walls built right into the mountainside. Three stories of terraced balconies overlooked a busy courtyard where merchant wagons and villarts crowded together.

Niam’s breath caught. “It’s enormous.”

“One of the largest trading posts in the northern passes.” A chill wind blew, and I wrapped the cloak more tightly around her. “I’ve stayed here often when avoiding court politics.”

“You prefer being out here?” She looked at me. “Among your people?”

“Hard to rule from inside palace walls.” The villart picked its way down the steep approach. “Better to see how policies affect real lives than argue abstractions with nobles.”

Merchants and traders filled the courtyard, their voices echoing off stone walls as they haggled over goods. The familiarbustle soothed something deep within me. Here, far from court intrigues, I could simply be a traveler with my mate.

A stable hand rushed to meet us, then froze mid-step. His eyes locked on Niam’s unveiled face, pale skin and close-cropped red hair marking her as something outside his experience.

I let my hand rest on my sword hilt. Not a threat, exactly, but a reminder of consequences.

Recognition flickered in the boy’s eyes. He dropped into a hasty bow. “My prince! We had no word of your coming.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” I swung down from the villart, then lifted Niam before she could protest. “Our mounts need care. Have someone bring the baggage inside.”

A girl of perhaps twelve summers darted past the stable hand, dark blue braids flying. She skidded to a stop before Niam, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Are you really a Frostling?” The words tumbled out. “From the old stories?”

The stable hand made a strangled sound. “Velina! Show respect to his highness’s companion!”

But Niam crouched to the girl’s level, a gentle smile softening her features. “I’m just a person, like you. Though I’d love to hear these stories sometime.”

Velina bounced on her toes. “I know lots! Grandmother tells them on winter nights. About ice palaces and snow queens and-”

“Enough.” The stable hand got the message. He hustled Velina away with muttered apologies.

Niam watched them go, something wistful in her expression. “You didn’t have to frighten them.”

“I didn’t.” I guided her toward the inn’s main entrance. “But word spreads fast in places like this. Better to establish boundaries early.”

The common room buzzed with conversation that stuttered into silence as we entered. Dorvin, the innkeeper, looked upfrom his ledger. I’d known him since my first solo journey through these passes, when his father had given shelter to a rain-soaked princeling without ceremony or fuss.

Now his weathered face showed the same shock as the stable hand, before decades of experience smoothed his expression.

“Prince Tharon.” He inclined his head. “Your usual room will be ready shortly, though I wish you’d sent word ahead. We could have prepared properly.”

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