Page 47 of Alien Prince's Fake Bride
One of his tentacles uncurls. “It’s basically an empty title, yes. It won’t grant you any fiefdom or powers.”
The reception is done with military efficiency. The general gives a nice speech, and so does Mareliux. He makes it up on the spot, but I think he strikes a good balance between being funny and talking about our love. I pretend to wipe a tear, but I don’t have to pretend very hard. It is a genuinely good speech that makes me half-wish this was all real. Well, more than half. But I can't start hoping for more.
When he sits down, to thunderous cheers and applause as all the soldiers get to their feet and pound on the tables, I lean over to kiss his cheek. Then I whisper into his ear. “That was a really nice one. You can re-use that for your real wedding.”
“I doubt I’ll ever have one,” he says, smiling as if I said something sweet.
It takes a while for the crowd to settle down.
To some surprise, Quaestor Preniat gets to his feet. “I suppose I should also say a few words.”
I glance at Mareliux. He’s frowning for a short moment, then catches himself and smiles good-naturedly.
The Quaestor clears his throat, his crusty gaze sweeping over the assembled mass of soldiers with an air of detached amusement.
"Your Highness. Oh, sorry. Highnesses, now. My apologies,” he begins, his creaky voice carrying a distinct edge. "What aheartwarmingoccasion this is. To witness such aswiftblossoming of affection, particularly amidst the immense rigors of life in constant battle and the responsibilities of an Imperial prince, is trulyremarkable. One can only admire theexpediencywith which fate, or perhaps other forces, have brought these two souls together.”
He emphasizes some words, making it all sound completely sarcastic.
He turns to me, pale gaze resting on my chest. “Oh, but I have committed another grave error. Our new future princess is an alien and may be offended that I presume she has a soul. If you do not, Ambassador Umbra, I apologize. In my defence, your species and possible culture — is there one? — are completely unknown to me, and indeed to everyone here. If only I’d had the time to do some research into your planet, wherever it may be! But alas. The heir apparent simply had to get marriedimmediately. Surely a sign of theverygreatest love.”
People are frowning at his tone, and an irritated murmur goes through the crowd. It strikes me that this is not the place to be sarcastic about Mareliux or his wife. These soldiers are armed to the teeth and loyal to their prince. Preniat must be pretty sure of himself to act this way here and now. Does he know something? Is it not just suspicion?
“Be that as it may,” he goes on, “I hope yourunionwill be as enduring andgenuineas the enthusiasm displayed here today. Though, as the Emperor's humble observer, I must confess acertaincuriosityregarding theunconventionalnature of this celebration. Nevertheless," he concludes, with a thin smile that doesn’t reach his cold eyes, "I offer mysincerestcongratulations to the happy couple. I think — nay, Iguarantee— that their future will beinteresting." He sits down to complete silence.
Mareliux raises his glass towards the quaestor with a friendly nod, as if thanking him for his speech, as if he hasn’t heard the sarcasm at all. I realize with a sudden chill that what I’m seeing now is Imperial court politics. Mareliux is playing his cards as well as anyone who’s been raised in those kind of surroundings, where you must often act differently from how you feel. I wonder if I can do it as well as him, when we get to Khav itself.
A soldier in full battle gear comes into the tent and quickly makes his way to the general. There are whispers, and then the general leans over to whisper to Mareliux.
The prince gets to his feet, all eyes on him. “Soldiers of the Khavgren Empire! My dear friends. My wife and I thank you deeply for this wonderful ceremony and celebration. I agree with the quaestor that our futures will doubtlessly be interesting. But whatever happens, we shall never forget the hospitality, friendship, and safety of the Twenty-Ninth Legion!”
He takes a pause to let the guests cheer.
“We regret that our stay has been this short. We must be on our way, back to Khav to see His Imperial Majesty. This happens sooner than we were hoping — we were looking forward to a longer reception and more festivities into the night. But there is news, and the news concerns you all. Vyrpy forces have landed on Grefve with three of their hordes. They will doubtlessly attack this base. For all the good it will do them. We will sweep them offthe face of this moon as easily as if they were grains of sand on a glass table.”
There’s a strange mood in the tent, a combined growling and cheering, so loud that Mareliux has to take a break.
“I will of course send Princess Umbra to safety in theGladiux, and then I will lead you all…” He can’t go on, because the soldiers in the room are protesting. There are shouts of “no!”, “get to safety with her!” and “lead us from afar, Prince!”
The general furiously calls for silence. “What is this terrible ruckus? You! Decurion Daluperian! Why are you shouting?” He points to one soldier, and it seems to me that while this is spontaneous, he has a pretty good idea about what she will say.
“Sir,” the soldier says as she gets up on the table so everyone can hear. “The Prince says he will lead us in battle! But he was just married. And we all know he leads from the front! The Empire cannot risk its best prince and soon Emperor?—”
A loud cheer drowns out her words, and it’s at least a minute before she can go on.
“We cannot risk our prince getting injured or worse in this battle,” she says. “This is the wrong time, sir! Let the Twenty-Ninth deal with this attack from the dirty Vyrpy, while you and the princess get to Khav to fight more important battles than any of us could! Fighting a pitched battle as a newlywed is tempting the gods too much. We will do this! Twenty-Ninth Legion on Grefve will deal with this tiny Vyrpy distraction! Let us fight, Prince Mareliux! Letusfight!”
The tent explodes in cheering and supportive yells.
Mareliux takes my hand. “Very well. I accept the appeal of the Legion. The Princess and I shall go to Khav. But let me at least give the order. Twenty-Ninth Legion!”
They all snap to attention with a sound that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand out.
“You are ordered to fight the Vyrpy in any way you see fit,” Mareliux commands. “This will be the Battle of the Prince’s Wedding. I will bring news of your victory to Khav!”
“Long live Emperor Mareliux!” someone yells in the back, and the call is taken up by several thousand eight-feet-tall alien soldiers. The noise is incredible, and I clench my hands to my ears when it turns to a chant.
“Mareliux Imperator! Mareliux Imperator!”The atmosphere is electric, the soldiers’ tentacles all a deep, war-like red and standing on end from their heads, making them look more monstrous than ever.
