Page 68 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

The words flowed around me in fragments, pieces I’d picked up over the days of travel listening to the women. Denna’s clipped accent differed from Mila’s softer tones, but both helped me understand the nuances of their human tongue. The language clicked together like puzzle pieces in my mind, different from the harsh consonants of my own people.

Niam’s shoulders tensed beneath the rough cloth of her disguise. She knew I understood more than I let on, but keeping that knowledge hidden gave us an advantage. If these humans thought I couldn’t comprehend their words, they might speak more freely.

My expression remained neutral as I caught more of their heated exchange. The human word for “girls” mixed with “ritual” and “sacrifice.” Each term sparked recognition from my hoursof listening to Niam explain her past during our journey. The pieces fit together into an ugly truth I already knew.

“What do you mean, mate?” The twin with the knife - Ren - took a step forward. “That’s not possible.”

Mila lifted her chin. “It’s more than possible. It’s true. The Shakai have lived beyond Terr’s walls for generations while the priests kept us trapped inside, feeding us lies.”

“Shakai?” Serra’s eyes narrowed as she studied Ashur’s exposed features. “The beast men from the old stories?”

“Not beasts.” Mila’s voice softened. “People. Different from us, but people.”

The other twin - Pol - moved to flank his brother. “And you expect us to believe this creature saved you?”

“I expect you to trust me.” Mila didn’t back down. “The same way I trusted you to keep my workbench ready, even after the Temple took me.”

Both twins flinched. Serra’s hands twisted in her apron.

“How many daughters has the Temple stolen?” Niam asked quietly. “How many families torn apart while the priests claim divine right?”

“Too many.” Serra’s voice cracked. “Maya Wick lost both her girls last spring. The Randalls lost their youngest at midwinter. The Clarks...”

“And now we know why.” Mila caught her mother’s hands. “They’re not serving the gods, Mother. They’re being sacrificed to keep ancient machines running.”

I watched Serra’s face as the truth sank in. Calculation replaced shock as she glanced at the covered windows, the closed door.

“The other families need to know.” She straightened her spine. “But first - Pol, check the yard. Ren, bring food. These people look half-starved.”

The twins hesitated.

“Now, boys.”

They moved with the instant obedience of sons who knew that tone. As soon as they had left, Serra turned to Denna.

“Your family?”

“Fifth Ring.” Denna swallowed hard. “The Lehtla compound.”

“Markus Lehtla’s girl?” Serra nodded slowly. “I remember when they took you. He nearly started a riot.”

“Is he...” Denna couldn’t finish the question.

“Still alive. Still training warriors. Still cursing the Temple every chance he gets.” Serra’s lips curved. “The messenger network reaches Fifth Ring. We can get word to him.”

Hope blazed in Denna’s eyes. I knew that feeling - the desperate need to protect family. My own Valti growled approval as Pol returned to report the yard clear.

Ren followed with bread and meat, dried fruit, a jug of water. Simple food, but my stomach cramped at the smell. When had we last eaten properly?

“Eat.” Serra gestured at the rough wooden table. “Then we’ll talk.”

I noticed how she positioned herself between us and the door as we settled around the table. Smart woman. The twins took up guard positions without being told, boxing us in while maintaining the illusion of hospitality.

If this went wrong, getting out would be messy.

Niam’s shoulder pressed against mine as she reached for bread. The contact steadied me, reminding me why we were here. What was at stake.

“The Temple controls everything through fear,” she explained between careful bites. “They choose which families prosper, which ones suffer. Who lives, who dies. All in service to their machines.”

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