Page 46 of Alien Prince

As I looked at my reflection, I hardly recognized myself. The dress accentuated my features in a way that was both flattering and empowering. There was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called.

Zoirse entered, her eyes lighting up as she saw me. “You look radiant, Ambassador Carter.”

“Thank you, Zoirse,” I said, feeling a bit self-conscious under her appreciative gaze. “I must admit, this is all a bit overwhelming.”

She stepped closer, adjusting a strand of my hair that had come loose. “It's natural to feel that way. Tonight is an important night.”

I studied her face, searching for any hint about the dress's mysterious origin. “Zoirse, can you tell me who selected this gown for me?”

She hesitated for a moment before replying, “All I can say is that it was chosen by someone who holds you in high regard.”

My curiosity deepened. “I see. Well, please convey my thanks once again.”

“Of course,” she said with a knowing smile. “Shall we make our way to the ballroom?”

“Yes, let's,” I agreed.

As we walked through the corridors, the ambiance shifted. The lighting grew warmer, and the air was filled with the rich scents of gourmet dishes—savory spices, roasted meats, and sweet confections. My stomach fluttered with a mix of hunger and anticipation.

We passed other guests making their way to the ballroom, their attire as varied as the stars—some in traditional robes adorned with celestial patterns, others in modern ensembles that shimmered with technological enhancements. Snippets of conversations in various languages floated past us, creating a tapestry of sound.

“Ambassador Carter!”

I turned to see Commander Harris, a fellow I.R.M.A. delegate, hurrying toward me. His expression was a mix of relief and excitement. He was in a basic black fitted suit, and without anyone guiding him like I had.

“Commander Harris, good evening,” I greeted him.

“Good evening indeed,” he said, catching his breath. “I was hoping to find you before the festivities began. Quite the place, isn't it?”

“It's spectacular,” I agreed. “Have you seen the ballroom yet?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “I got a bit turned around. This place is a maze.”

Zoirse inclined her head politely. “I can guide you both.”

“Much appreciated,” Harris said, noticing her for the first time. “And you are?”

“Zoirse, Ambassador Carter's attendant,” she replied gracefully.

“Well, Zoirse, lead the way,” he said with a grin.

As we continued, Harris leaned in slightly. “So, have you heard about the princes?”

I gave him a curious look. “What about them?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Word is, both Prince Bayn and Prince Ryler will be at the ball tonight. Quite the opportunity for diplomatic engagement.”

I smiled wryly. “Always thinking of the mission, aren't you, Harris?”

“Comes with the job,” he replied. “But seriously, be prepared. They each have their own... styles.”

“I'm aware,” I said, recalling my meeting with Prince Bayn. And the stories I'd heard about Prince Ryler from the dossier provided on him in preparation for this mission were making their way to the forefront ofmy mind with each step toward the ballroom.

We arrived at the grand entrance to the ballroom. The doors were a masterpiece of art and engineering—etched with intricate designs that seemed to animate as you looked at them, depicting stories of heroism and unity. I had to shake my head to not get a worsening case of vertigo from the movement.

“Here we are,” Zoirse announced.

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