Page 51 of Tricked By the Alien Prince

“Wait... are you mad that people are trying to kill each other or that you’ve run out of inventory?” I ask, chuckling breathlessly at the absurd idea.

“Can it be both?” Melvall asks with a somewhat guilty expression. He sighs. “I don’t charge the younglings at least. They always get priority no matter what. Besides, if they are too young, they won’t understand the concept of trade at all. Seriously, I once had one try to trade me a rock. A rock! Sure, it was all sparkly, but it was still a rock.”

I roll my eyes. The way that Melvall keeps glancing at me, a forceful smile stretching across his face, I strongly suspect this story is to distract me from this situation. Too bad I’m an anxious mess, and nothing at all will distract me from this disaster.

“I plan to ask the King for his help,” I admit. “I have to get back home. Staying here is not an option.”

“He won’t help you,” Volan snaps. He sighs heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “My father is not interested in any above-world situation, other than dealing with those who encroach upon our territory.”

“You sulthari aren’t exactly known for being hospitable to guests,” Melvall agrees. He waves to the males around us—the myriad of half-clad warriors who stop to gaze at us as we pass. “I mean, you literally shove them into an arena to battle just to earn the right to trade with you.”

Volan grits his teeth. “My people are warriors foremost. We respect those who can fight. We are not barbarians cutting down every imagined foe.”

“Let’s just say we’ve all heard the stories about what happens to those who... displease you sulthari warriors.” The way Melvall’s spikes flatten against his body, the tension in his shoulders, the subtle way he keeps glancing at the guards—everything about his demeanor screams danger. He’s terrified, though trying not to show it.

“And those who can’t?” I ask, pointedly looking up at Volan. “What happens to those of us who can’t fight?”

It’s become apparent that I’m not equipped for this, both physically and mentally. It’s not like I’ve ever heard the saying ‘don’t bring a slingshot to a sword fight.’ Is this why Volan’s so quick to hand us over, because I can’t fight? Am I weak in his eyes? Does he have some warrior-woman on the side? I never thought to ask. I was so wrapped up in his embrace. He made me feel strong and capable...

I turn my head away from him, blinking furiously at the burning sensation in my eyes. He set this all up. He brought me here on purpose. Even if I can see hints of regret in his eyes now, it doesn’t change what he did. I’m absolutely heartbroken that I let myself trust him. Worse, I fell for him, practically throwing my heart at him with a declaration of love.

As a group we come to a standstill in front of two impressively large metal doors. They look reminiscent of vault doors, like what you might see being used at a bank or other secure location. I’m not even sure our starship had doors this thick and imposing to be honest, not even to the airlocks. Because you know... they shouldn’t look like a bad idea to open mid-flight through the vacuum of space.

Volan moves closer to me, his voice so low only I can hear it. “I promise I’ll explain everything later. Just... trust me one more time. Please.”

I almost laugh. Trust him? After this?

I stare at the massive doors before me as they open wide, the inside darkness beckoning, ready to swallow me whole. I’m walking into a mad king’s lair, one who apparently has the tendency to make people disappear… and Volan’s the one who brought me here.

And he asks me to trust him?

How can I trust anyone, ever again?

ChapterTwenty-Eight

VOLAN

Ihiss at one of my King’s personal guards as he pushes me to my knees, slamming against the tiled floor. Nearby, Melvall and Zoran are thrown to the floor, though due to their restraints, they are unable to brace themselves and sprawl out at the impact.

Nothing stops my growl when Maya kneels on the ground beside me. She should not be touching the dirty floor! She deserves better than this treatment. If I had my way, she would be sitting on the throne.

I cast a glance up at Tanis, whose hand is resting on Maya’s shoulder. My instincts scream at me to demand he remove his touch from her, to keep his distance... but somehow my rational mind still functions enough to realize that he’s standing guard over her. It doesn’t take a genius to realize how much Maya means to me, especially when she’s covered in my scent. Even Tanis figured it out. He’s the closest I have to a friend, the only other person I’ve consistently been around for my entire life.

How is it that I’ve never truly seen him before? All these years, he’s stood by my side, protecting me, advising me in his quiet way. I’ve taken him for granted, treated him as simply another warrior meant to do my bidding. But he’s been more than that—a steady presence I’ve relied upon without ever acknowledging.

Swallowing my anger, I give Tanis a slight nod of approval and thanks. His eyes widen, not used to receiving the praise, but he stands a bit taller. It shames me that I’ve never thanked him before for his efforts. Especially since, no matter what happens here today, I can trust him to do right by Maya.

“Volan,” my father drawls slowly, “I see you have returned.”

His voice is devoid of excitement, pride, or even happiness. My heart aches as I realize that all I have ever wanted was his approval, for him to love me as a father should love his son. It’s never going to happen. He’s never going to love me.

For solars I have wished for him to find joy in the company of my presence... or at the very least, to act like a father should and to help me achieve my dreams. Instead of being excited that I have successfully completed my Challenge, or proud of how I will now become king of our people, he treats me like a threat.

Because I am one, I realize, all too belatedly.

He’s never intended to give me the throne. It’s truly why he gave me such a difficult task. All this time I thought he wanted to prove that I wrongly placed my trust in the outsiders. It was never about him doubting whether I was ready to rule. Nor was it ever about me proving my strength and capabilities.

No; he purposely set me up to fail. It’s about him and his wants. It’s always been about him. The predatory grin on the king’s face confirms my worst fears.

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