Page 84 of Alien Prince

“It’s certainly… unique,” I say carefully, forcing a polite smile.

Her gaze flicks to Kael, then back to me. “You must find it difficult to adjust,” she continues. “After all, Earthlings are known for their simple tastes. I imagine some of these dishes must seem… overwhelming to you.”

The underlying insult is clear, and heat rises to my cheeks. “It’s an adjustment,” I reply evenly, setting my fork down. “But I’m learning to appreciate the complexity of your culture.”

Kael’s gaze flicks toward me briefly, his expression as unreadable as ever, but I think I see something in his eyes—a flicker of approval, maybe.

“Such an admirable attitude,” the woman says, her tone still dripping with condescension. “Though I do wonder how much one can truly appreciate when so much is… unfamiliar.”

Another woman down the table snickers, and I grip the edge of my plate to keep myself steady.

I glance at Kael, hoping he’ll step in, but he doesn’t move, his focus seemingly elsewhere. I remind myself that I’m here to prove I can belong—to show him, and everyone else, that I’m not the weak, out-of-place outsider they think I am.

“I suppose that’s the beauty of learning,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm and steady. “Every unfamiliar experience is an opportunity to grow.”

The woman’s smile falters slightly, and I take a small, quiet victory in that.

But as the dinner continues, the whispers and cutting remarks don’t stop. They’re quieter now, but I can still feel the weight of their judgment, their disdain. It hangs in the air like a cloud, smothering any chance of me enjoying the meal.

Even the most exquisite dishes—like the delicate, glowing fruit that tastes like honey and sunshine—don’t distract me from the tension.

The rest of the meal passes in strained silence, the nobles too busy dissecting Kael’s words in their minds to bother with me again. The food continues to be a mixed bag—one dish almost makes me gag, while another surprises me with its subtle, savory flavors.

But nothing is harder to swallow than the judgment I’ve faced tonight.

When the dinner finally ends, I’m too relieved to care about proper etiquette as I stand and follow Kael out of the hall.

“You handled yourself well,” he says quietly once we’re alone in the corridor.

I glance at him, trying to gauge whether that’s a genuine compliment or just a way to placate me. “Thanks,” I mutter. “Though I think I’ll need a manual to get through the next one.”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “You might at that.”

For the first time since the night began, I let out a small, shaky laugh.

While the dinner has ended, the night has not.

Music begins, soft and haunting, with a rhythm that feels like it’s alive, thrumming through the air and into my chest. I sit on the edge of the grand hall, watching as pairs of Erythosians glide across the floor, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

The dancers move with a grace I could never hope to match, their bodies swaying and spinning in perfect synchrony. There’s something mesmerizing about it, almost otherworldly, and I can’t help but be drawn in.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I startle at the deep voice beside me and turn to see Kael standing there, his expression unreadable as always.

“It’s beautiful,” I admit, gesturing to the dancers. “Like something out of a dream.”

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze flicking between me and the floor. “It’s a traditional dance,” he says, “a way of connecting with one’s partner.”

“Partner?” I echo, raising a brow. “Like… romantically?”

“Not always,” he replies, his tone carefully neutral, “but often.” Before I can ask anything else, he extends a hand toward me, his silver skin gleaming under the soft lights of the hall. “Come.”

I blink, staring at his outstretched hand. “You want me to… dance? With you?”

“Yes.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

My heart stutters, and I debate refusing, but the intensity in his violet eyes, the unspoken challenge in his expression, makes me reach out and take his hand before I can overthink it.

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