Page 3 of Tricked By the Alien Prince

“Are you mated?” I ask, blatantly staring at his markings. It should be easy enough to get a mate, at least for me… but these markings, they must be his fated mate marks. I know enough about harkcanas that they believe in that sort of thing. My father ensured that I at least learned the important things about each of the species that lived on the planet—at least enough to know how to strategize against them.

I just didn’t believe fated mates were real. It’s a concept that I find strangely appealing - that idea of one perfect female in existence who is destined to be yours. Someone you can trust. Someone who will always be at your side, so you never feel apart from those around you.

Zoran chuckles, his laughter a husky rumble. “Hardly. These are my tribal marks.”

I scowl, wanting to ask further without giving away that I know nothing of what he talks about. It’s rare for me to have the opportunity to talk to outsiders like this. Even now I am constantly listening to hear the shouts of my guards as they track me down. Even when patrolling in the past, it was always in a group. Always surrounded, and yet somehow never quite connected.

Zoran must recognize my inner turmoil, and for some reason, he takes mercy upon me. He flicks a finger towards his tattooed scalp. “This one shows that I belong to the Ma’Krosh tribe. Unlike you Sulthari, we have multiple tribes on the surface. They aren’t always friendly with each other.”

My spine stiffens when he mentions my people, but his voice doesn’t carry any anger or hate. He speaks as if it’s just common knowledge, and it’s times like this that I wish it were. Not many of the warriors that brave the depths, seeking the Pits, are happy to be here. Many blame us. Many accuse us of hoarding the life-saving medicine for ourselves.

Many would be willing to kill us just to get ahold of it.

It’s why they are behind bars, and I am in the common way, warily watching those waiting to be escorted to the Pits.

Surrounded, but never connected.

Zoran, ignorant of my thoughts, gestures to a tattoo that spreads across his upper arm and shoulder blade. “This means that I have mastered the spear. You should be able to see the spear itself running through the design.”

I can hear raised voices in the distance and I note that my time here is running short. The overall noise of the cavern increases as vicious beasts are disturbed from their slumber and fighters become riled up. The tension is already high, fear and anger thick in the air.

I already know what’s happening. The same thing that occurs every time I’m out of sight; my personal guards are searching for me. No one needs them stirring more trouble.

Especially this Zoran. He’s been helpful, polite even. He either knows who I am and is giving me the proper respect, which I highly doubt, or is simply just a kind male.

It’s hard to believe that he’s simply so kind. Aren’t outsiders all supposed to be vicious, practically beasts? They want nothing more than to tear their opponents apart. At least, that’s what my father says. I’ve always wondered how a civilization can possibly survive if everyone acts like that. This Zoran just proves that not everyone is out for blood.

“A word of advice, Zoran,” I say as I step back from his cell, putting space between the two of us. “Not many leave the Pits the way you’ve come. Your tribe will do better trading for the medicine than sending warriors to their deaths.”

Before he can say anything, I flash my markings again, turn, and leave. I’d probably just insulted him. Most likely. But maybe he’d take my warning to heart. Just maybe I’ve saved a life today.

I continue walking slowly between the cages, pretending to ignore the angry shouts and cacophony that grows louder and louder behind me. It’s rare I get an opportunity like this, to walk so casually, even if I am surrounded by outsiders. They represent a world that I’ve only glanced at, and for some reason find strangely compelling.

A large grey body comes to stand in front of me, blocking my exploration. The male spreads his legs wide, blocking my path with his muscular body and imposing height. I can almost imagine his fingers twitching, wanting to reach for his weapon.

“Prince Volan! I have been calling you,” the male admonishes me. His luminae markings glow fiercely in the dim light. He’s well-trained, but not well enough if he’s projecting his frustration so clearly. I suppose I did make him run through the entire cavern, past endless cages, each filled with potentially volatile enemies just to reach me…

I raise an eyebrow at him. I try to keep my voice haughty, just like how my father so often talks. “Really, Tanis, did you just chastise your prince?”

Tanis’s markings begin to flash rapidly as he realizes what he said and begins to panic. “Sire, I would never…”

“Are you sure, because that certainly sounded like you were upset with me,” I smile at him as I verbally prod him. Crossing my arms, I glance up at the male. And up. Tanis makes a good guard. He’s tall, especially for a Sulthari. And the male works out, almost non-stop. Almost everyone is fearful of him. Unfortunately, he isn’t the smartest of males. I’ve never once seen him question someone; he just always blindly follows orders. He’s good-humored though, and he doesn’t hold grudges when I tease him.

He’s also probably the closest I have to a friend.

Which is kind of a depressing thought. He’s literally paid to be by my side, day in and day out.

As a guard under my father’s employ, he’s never asked me for anything. In fact, he always patiently lends me an ear and listens to me talk through my ideas, even my outlandish ones. I’ve even gone so far as to tell him my ideas that maybe, just maybe, the outsiders aren’t as bad as we all perceive them to be. After all, they trade food and various items that we need… if it can be considered trading, paying the fee to be granted a position in line to fight in the Pits.

I’ve always wondered if this means that they are paying for us to take them to their deaths. Are we executioners, with just some long-winded process to cover our reputations? Since when did the glorious Sulthari sink so low?

Before me, Tanis shifts uneasily on his feet. I’ve been lost in my thoughts for too long, and the poor male’s resorted to panic. I laugh and hold up my hand, trying to calm him as he stumbles over his words. “Relax, Tanis. I was only stirring you. You can forgive me, right?”

Tanis’s shoulders collapse, and he breathes a huge sigh of relief. I cringe a little at his reaction. Even after all these years, he still fears me. Or more so, he fears who I will become.

For the millionth time, I wonder what it would be like to have someone who would just talk to me. Not listen to me out of duty, but to truly have a conversation with. Maybe even disagree with me.

My father is a strict male, firm in his beliefs and firmer in his punishments. I am not my father. Sure, I enjoy a good fight like the rest of my people, but I am not unnecessarily brutal.

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