Page 44 of Tricked By the Alien Prince

The green one—Zoran—looks at his feet, shuffling them. The picture of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“We have agreed to not talk about that moment,” Melvall sighs, patting Zoran on the back. For someone who appears slender next to the bulky green alien, he sends Zoran stumbling with that casual touch. Mental note: don’t underestimate the blue one.

“It’s not my fault! They had a Tangler!” Zoran exclaims. “I didn’t sign up for that sort of challenge. That’s just ridiculous.”

Volan sucks in a breath, which immediately puts me on alert. Anything that makes Volan nervous is something I definitely should be worried about.

I slip out from behind Volan’s protective stance, ignoring his disapproving glare. “What’s a tangler?” I ask, stepping up beside him.

Zoran’s eyes light up at my question.

“A tangler is a massive beast,” he explains, gesturing widely with his hands. “It lives almost exclusively underground. It’s got these long tentacles that snake out through the tunnels searching for prey. It lies in wait until you are most vulnerable, and then bam it’ll catch you and drag you to its waiting mouth, which is filled with thousands of teeth and...”

“And they are rare,” Volan interrupts, shooting Zoran a look. I appreciate the intervention; my imagination was already conjuring up nightmare fuel. “There’s only one that I know of, and last I heard from our scouts it’s closer to the Drakoon settlement than here. Thankfully if you know what to look for, which I do, it’s easily avoided.”

I exhale slowly, leaning against Volan despite myself. The warmth of his body against mine is reassuring, and I catch his chest puffing out slightly at my show of trust. Men—well, males—really are all the same across species, aren’t they?

“You didn’t actually answer my question,” Volan says, turning his attention back to the two aliens. “Why are you here?”

“Medicine, why else?” Melvall replies with a casual shrug.

“I thought this was a secret place,” I say, giving Volan a pointed look. “Or is this like one of those places where every kid swears it’s secluded and elusive, despite the entire town calling it make-out point?”

Volan opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. Clearly, dealing with the intruders takes priority, but I still can’t help that little voice in my head that points out that Volan didn’t immediately deny my accusation. It’s something that we will apparently need to discuss later.

“How long have you been stealing from us?” he asks the pair.

“Stealing?” Melvall’s spiked brow ridge arches upward. “It’s not like you made it.”

I scowl. No, because Volan’s employers made it. Taking something that isn’t yours is still stealing…

“It doesn’t matter!” Volan replies, frustration raising his voice. “The lab is inside Sulthari territory, therefore it is ours.”

Melvall snorts. “Next thing you know, he’s going to start telling us all about the agreement our ancestors made, like we are younglings hearing of it for the first time.”

“The treaty is important!” Volan growls, taking a step forward.

I grab Volan’s arm, halting him in his tracks. The last thing we need is a fight right now. These aliens outnumber us, and even though I’ve got my slingshot, I’m pretty sure I’ll be useless in this kind of fight. Disgusting, creepy, and non-sentient bugs will not strategize a battle like these guys will.

I’m starting to get the feeling there’s a lot more history between these species than Volan has let on—has he kept something from me? That little voice, that doubt, is starting to really sing inside now, really catching my attention.

“Oh please, your people forced the ‘treaty’ on us,” Melvall replies bitterly, crossing his arms across his chest. The sharp fins along his elbows glitter dangerously in the low light.

Is this male’s entire body built for warfare? Yeah, we definitely want to avoid a fight if we can.

“If it wasn’t for the sulthari, none of your people would have found their way to the surface,” Volan snaps back.

I watch the argument unfold, trying to piece together the fragments of information. There’s clearly some conflict between their species—something major that’s potentially shaped the entire dynamic of this planet. Something no one bothered to tell the human colonists about when they sent us here.

So why didn’t Volan tell me? He’s had plenty of chances.

Volan runs a hand over his face, looking exhausted. For the first time, I notice the tired lines around his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders. He’s carrying a burden I don’t fully understand.

“Is that what your people have told you, Prince Volan? Because the harkcana tell of a different tale,” Zoran states casually, like he’s discussing the weather.

Wait. What?

“Prince?” The word escapes me in a small gasp.

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