Page 80 of Alien Prince

It’s not easy. Every conversation with him feels like walking a tightrope. He’s infuriatingly cold, sharp-tongued, and so rigidly tied to his traditions that I sometimes wonder if he even knows how to bend.

But I can’t afford to let my frustration show, not if I want to stay in his good graces, so I smile when I don’t feel like smiling. I listen when all I want to do is argue. I study his people’s customs and history, pouring over their ancient texts late into the night, even when the alien script makes my head ache.

I’m a reader. I’ve always been a reader. Learning languages was something that always came easily to me, but this alien language is confusing and maddening at times.

Just like Kael.

And yet, it’s not enough to simplypretend. Kael doesn’t miss much. He sees through superficial efforts like a hawk spotting prey. If I’m going to convince him that I’m worth keeping around, I have to actuallyunderstandhis world.

It’s exhausting, but it’s better than the alternative. I’ve seen the way he looks at me sometimes, like he’s weighing me, measuring me against some invisible standard. One wrong move, one misstep, and I’m gone.

I’m not naïve enough to think that being sent back to Earth is even an option. If Kael decides I’m unfit, I doubt there will be much of a future for me at all.

My stomach twists, and I press my palms against the cool surface of the table in front of me, focusing on the strange, flowing script of the book I’ve been trying to decipher.

“Emily.”

His voice startles me, low and commanding.

I glance up to see him standing in the doorway, his piercing violet eyes fixed on me.

“Yes?” I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.

He steps closer, his presence filling the room in that maddening way it always does. “You’ve been in here for hours. Have you made progress?”

I nod, holding up the book. “I think I understand most of it, though your ancestors were really fond of metaphors, and they aren’t exactly like the metaphors back on Earth so maybe they aren’t actually metaphors? I don’t know.” I rub my temples. I don’t want to admit this aloud, but I’m starting to get a headache.

His lips twitch—almost, but not quite, a smile. “They valued subtlety and nuance.”

“Subtlety, sure,” I say, my voice betraying a hint of sarcasm, “but some of this reads like a riddle for the sake of being confusing.”

He raises a brow, and I think I’ve crossed a line, but then he leans against the edge of the table, his gaze never leaving mine. “Perhaps,” he says slowly, “you’re beginning to understand more than you realize.”

Is that a compliment or a challenge?

Maybe both.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus. I can’t afford to let my guard down—not with him. Not with anyone.

Because as much as I want to survive, part of me also wants to prove that I can thrive.

Even here.

I sit quietly in the corner of the council chamber, pretending to focus on the ancient text in my lap. In truth, I’m watching Kael.

He’s at the head of the long table, surrounded by advisors who look like they’ve spent centuries mastering the art of speaking without actually saying anything. The discussion today is about a struggling colony on Erythos, its people desperate for resources after a failed harvest.

Most of the council members talk about numbers—allocations, percentages, logistics—but Kael’s voice cuts through the noise like a horn.

“We cannot abandon them,” he says, his tone firm but controlled. “The colony provides vital support to the northernprovinces. If we do not intervene now, their collapse will ripple through the entire kingdom.”

One of the older councilors, a man with a face as sharp as his words, raises a skeptical brow. “And what would you have us sacrifice, Your Highthos? Shall we drain the central regions to save the outskirts? It is a question of priorities.”

Kael leans forward, his violet eyes blazing. “It is a question of loyalty. They are our people. Their survival is not negotiable.”

The chamber falls silent. At least the older councilor has the decency to look chastened.

Hmm. Maybe Kael is more than the icy, arrogant prince I’ve been dealing with. There’s something else beneath the surface—something fierce and unyielding, yes, but also deeply compassionate. He cares about his people, even if he hides it behind that infuriating stoicism.

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