Page 3 of Alien Prince

“Somethin’ about the new air purifier the palace has installed,” Boomer says with a slight lilt. “You know how it goes. Just stick to the script and ye'll be fine.”

“I fucking hate this,” I mutter, allowing him to pin the mic in place.

“I know, Ky. But ye have to do it.” Boomer gives me a reassuring pat on the back. “We're all countin’ on ye.”

I make my way to the arches of the balcony for the daily midday address, a task that has traditionally been my mother's responsibility. Lately, however, her lazy, spoiled ass seems more than content to leave all her duties for someone else to handle. As I approach, the crowd below erupts into cheers and praises, oblivious to the fact that their beloved queen can't be bothered to address them herself anymore.

It's becoming a pattern; my mother retreating further into her luxurious lifestyle while I'm left to pick up the slack. The irony of the situation isn't lost on me as I prepare to deliver yet another speech in her stead, wondering how long it'll be before she completely abandons her royal obligations.

I can't imagine what the new skin would think of all this. Has she believed in all the lies too? Did she cheer enthusiastically with the others, fawning over the golden prince Kyron and his deep emerald eyes before she was delivered to my closet?

Or was she one of the select few who wished for a violent death upon my cursed face?

Probably the latter considering the depth of her slicing stare. I’d imagine she must not be in the Prince Ky Fan Club.

“Do you ever think there's more we can do for the people of Astronomica?” I ask Boomer, feeling the weight of the slums outside the palace.

He gives me a sympathetic look.

“Ah know how ye feel, yer highness,” Boomer says. “But we're doin' everythin' we can. We cannot change everythin' overnight.”

His dark eyes flicker for a moment, and I think he almost looks as if he wants to say more, but doesn't. I want to press, but I also know the man is a fortress all on his own. If there is something I need to know, he will tell me.

“I know. But it's not enough.” I shake my head. “We can't keep living like this, ignoring the suffering of our people.”

“We'll find a way, Ky. I promise.” Boomer pats my shoulder with one of his six arms. Two of his lower arms grab a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down notes about the stupid purifiers that's just one more distraction the people don't care about. His remaining three arms hang at his sides, ready for any task that might arise.

“But fer now, we have tae do what we can. And that means keepin' up appearances, even if it makes us sick.”

I nod, knowing he's right. But it doesn't make it any easier.

“Let's just get this over with,” I say, gesturing towards the balcony and the crowd below.

With all six of his arms outstretched, hands waving dramatically, Boomer says in his lilting accent, “It's showtime, laddie.”

Chapter Two

Gemma

This is it. The moment my entire life has been leading up to.

“This is going to hurt,” Raif says as he holds the gun steady, aiming at me—or rather, my left knee, to be exact—with precision.

His shoulders press together as he solidifies his stance, his feet apart. “Of course it’s going to hurt, Raif. No one wants to be shot.” I huff, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. My father, Nikolai, the head of the Astral Crusade, has instilled in me a sense of purpose and determination that drives me forward, even when the odds seem insurmountable. He has told me time and time again that this is what I was born to do.

Bring down the monarchy and expose the truth.

While most girls my age were off at school, or playing with their peers, I was studying under my father’s tutelage.

My instructors weren't teaching me basic principles of science or reading fluffy literature and letting me draw shapes and colors. No, they filled my days with combat training, learning the principles and applications of deceptive tactics, etiquette classes, and, of course, weapons training.

My parents knew the truth about the royal family.

Because my mom escaped them when she was pregnant with me, and like our earthbound ancestors, the passing of time would only have exposed her whether or not she said something.

And judging from the photographs, or what is left of them, anyway, she would have never been able to hide me. The womanlooked like she was carrying twins. To this day she teases me about it, saying I needed the freedom to move, even then.

That was how she met my dad, a member of the Astral Crusade. Pregnant and alone, he offered to help her find a way out, but the cost was leaving her job. The only life she knew was joining the resistance. As my mother tells it, there was no choice. If she stayed with the family, even if she persisted to hide her growing belly under mountains of aprons and clothes, there would always be the risk, and in her eyes the only chance I had at a life was one outside the palace walls, far away. And somewhere along the way, my dad became more than just the guy who got her out. And after I was born, regardless of blood, he became the only dad I ever knew.

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