Page 83 of Alien Prince

The room falls silent, the weight of my words sinking in. I feel Emily’s eyes on me, wide with surprise, but I don’t look at her. Let them think what they will. Let them talk.

The only approval she needs is mine.

Chapter Nine

Emily

The dining hall is a feast for the senses—lavish decorations, glowing chandeliers casting soft light over the table, and an array of dishes so colorful they almost look too beautiful to eat. Almost.

The first bite I take is exquisite. The flavors are rich and complex, with a slight sweetness that melts on my tongue. I steal another bite, grateful for something familiar—something good—amidst all the unfamiliarity.

But my luck doesn’t last.

The next dish is a textured nightmare. I chew slowly, trying to keep my face neutral, but the bitterness lingers long after I’ve swallowed. A polite sip of the iridescent liquid in my goblet doesn’t help. It’s cloyingly sweet, like melted candy.

I glance at the table, trying to read the expressions of the other diners, but their faces are masks of serenity. They eat with precision and grace, the way their manners dictate—silent, deliberate bites, the food placed carefully on the edge of their plates rather than the center, a custom that still baffles me. Every gesture, every sip, is a performance of elegance, as if breaking these unspoken rules would cause the whole palace to collapse.

And then there’s me. I fumble with utensils that look more like art than cutlery and do my best not to embarrass myself. I’ve been practicing their customs, mimicking the movements of the maids and advisors, but under the scrutiny of somany judgmental eyes, it feels like my every move is under a microscope.

“Careful with that one,” Kael murmurs, leaning slightly toward me. His voice is low, meant just for my ears. “It’s an acquired taste.”

I glance at the delicate, gelatinous cube on my plate, its surface shimmering faintly, and decide to trust him. “Noted,” I whisper back, nudging it to the side of my plate in what I hope is the correct fashion.

But the food isn’t the worst part.

“Such a bold choice,” a voice purrs from across the table. I glance up to see a woman with sleek silver hair and piercing violet eyes watching me. Her smile is sharp, predatory. “To bring an outsider to such an important gathering. I admire your courage, Your Highthos.”

Kael doesn’t respond, his expression unreadable, but the jab lands all the same.

Another noble, a man seated a few places down, adds, “It’s always fascinating to see how quickly the vessel’s choices adapt… or fail to adapt.”

The comment feels like a slap, but I keep my face calm, my hands gripping the edge of the tablecloth beneath the surface.

“It’s a delicate balance, isn’t it?” the woman continues, her gaze shifting back to me. “To find someone who can uphold our traditions without… diluting them.”

My chest tightens, but I force myself to smile, a thin, practiced thing I’ve learned to wield in moments like this. “It’s amazing how different traditions can be,” I say lightly. “On Earth, we don’t usually comment on someone’s learning curve at the dinner table. It’s considered impolite.”

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, and I feel a small, hollow victory in that, but the tension in the room thickens, the whispers growing louder and sharper.

The one time my shyness back on Earth would’ve been an asset…

Kael shifts beside me, his presence grounding in a way I hate to admit. He clears his throat, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Emily’s adjustment to Erythos has been commendable,” he says, his tone cool and authoritative. “Far more so than some of the guests at this table would be capable of in her place.”

The room falls silent, and I can feel the heat of his words settling over the gathering. My pulse races, torn between gratitude and embarrassment.

I glance at Kael, but his face is impassive, his gaze fixed on the room as if daring anyone to challenge him.

I pick up a small, translucent orb from my plate, hesitating before popping it into my mouth. A burst of sweetness floods my tongue, followed by something tart and floral. It’s… exquisite.

The next dish, however, is not.

I try a piece of what looks like a delicate, golden wafer, but the moment it touches my tongue, I gag. The taste is bitter and briny, like licking the inside of a fish tank. I struggle to swallow it without making a face, grabbing for my goblet to wash it down with a sip of the sparkling, pale-blue liquid that passes for wine here.

I glance at Kael out of the corner of my eye, but he seems unbothered, his expression unreadable as always. If he notices my reaction to the food, he doesn’t show it.

“Tell me, Lady Emily,” a syrupy voice interrupts my thoughts. “How do you find the cuisine of Erythos? Surely it must be quite different from what you’re used to.”

I look up to see a woman sitting across from me, her silver skin flawless and her violet eyes gleaming with thinly veiled amusement. Her lips are curved into a smile, but there’s nothing kind about it.

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