Page 73 of Alien Prince's Fake Bride
“But the Emperor can decide it himself, of course?”
“Of course. Though this is a complicated issue, with many angles that must be examined?—”
“What does the Emperor decide?” Mareliux asks, his deep voice again echoing from the distant walls. “Here is Ambassador Umbra, married to me! Shall she be a princess, as is customary?Shall I be the next emperor? Shall Umbra be the next empress? Or shall loyalty and obedience and the ancient, established rules of succession not be rewarded? Shall we let the faceless, gray bureaucrats decide this most grave of questions? Your Magnificence, the Empire needs an answer!”
The Empress whispers something to the Emperor, but the Emperor waves her tiredly away like an annoying fly. “We have known for some days that Mareliux has married an alien. If we did not approve, we would have said so. Umbra of Earth, do you understand the ways of the Khavgren Empire? Do you vow to keep to our ways, if you were to become empress? Do you vow to teach any of your offspring the Khavgren ways, to not turn the Empire into some kind of alien outpost? Do you vow these things, in the presence of the Emperor, on pain of death if your vow should be broken?”
The room goes quiet. The Emperor has just told me that I better be a perfect Khavgren, or they will kill me.
Well, I can’t suddenly say ‘oh, sorry, there’s been a mistake, I never knew I would have to become likeyouto be empress. Nobody told me that marrying an Imperial prince would mean that things wereexpectedof me’. But damn it, this is becoming dead serious.
"I agree that I don't really get all the Khavgren traditions and ways, not like a Khavgren woman would," I start, tripping over my own words. "Some of it is completely new to me. And yeah, I know not speaking your language might seem like I'm being rude, but it's not on purpose. I'll pick it up, fast. And okay, the Khavgren Empire, it should stay Khavgren. I promise to keep it that way. As much as I can, anyway. Umm. Yeah."
My clumsy words hang in the air, and even in Khavgrese they sound so weak it makes me cringe. There’s a reason I’m a Space Force officer and not a diplomat. I couldn’t convince a rock to roll downhill.
The Empress gives me an icy smile, clearly satisfied that I’ve sabotaged my chances.
“We like this ambassador,” the Emperor finally chuckles. “She speaks with honesty. And we appreciate that she has just saved the prince’s life in a clear sign of love. If only all wives at court were as eager to protect their husband’s life, instead of trying to take it! Perhaps this is exactly what is needed in this palace. Some new blood?—”
He starts to cough, with dry heaves that rack his skinny body for a while. The Empress stands stiffly by his side until the bout subsides. I’m not sure what to do. Why is nobody coming to help him?
“Very well,” the Emperor finally continues, voice wheezy and eyes red. “As is customary on these occasions, we formally confer upon you, Ambassador Umbra, the title of Imperial Princess. It comes with no claim on land or authority.”
“Magnificence,” Preniat creaks surprisingly loudly, “is this a provisional creation?”
“What?” The Emperor says, seeming confused. “Oh, I suppose it should be. This is a provisional creation. Princess Umbra, we sincerely hope that you will be able to conceive with the Prince.”
The Empress’s face has gone stiff. This was not what she wanted.
“Thank you, Magnificence,” I say as Mareliux comes up beside me and takes my hand.
“Thank you,” he echoes. “We are grateful for the immense honor you have shown us both, Magnificence.” He takes my hand, and we back off from the throne. The giant tentacles wave over our heads.
“Oh, Mareliux. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” the Emperor wheezes. “You bring home an alien? Do not be fooled by my naturally magnanimous ways: I’mnotenamored. It looks too much like a ploy, like subterfuge, like having your position made into a mockery. This had better be neither, or I will come down on you with all my might. Granted my might is not what it used to be, but I think you will find it sufficient to make you regret any mischief. Be gone with you. Princess Umbra, I suspect you may be too good for this prince. He’s not always what he seems. But you, remarkably, appear to be. One of you must change, I fear. I suspect it is you who must learn to be devious.”
I notice he’s no longer using the royal ‘we’. I hope that’s a good sign.
We both bow again. Then we turn and walk out of the room along with the quaestor and Prince Nerox. Behind us the throne room echoes with the Emperor’s wheezing cough. When the big doors bang shut behind us, it’s still going on.
Quaestor Preniat turns. “His Imperial Magnificence is right, of course. This bears all the hallmarks of a ploy?—”
“Yes, thank you, Preniat,” Mareliux snaps. “You may go.”
29
- Mareliux-
The quaestor locks eyes with me for a split second, furious to be dismissed like a lackey. But he won’t pick this moment to challenge my authority, so he gives a shallow bow and walks away, back bent and leaning on his staff.
“That went well,” I sum up the audience. “The Throne likes you, Umbra. And the Emperor, too.”
“Didn’t he threaten to kill me?” she asks, looking pale.
“He does that to everyone,” Prince Nerox says with a happy grin. “It’s how he says hello, basically.”
“So he’s not serious about the ‘pain of death’ thing?”
“Oh, he is,” my brother quips. “He probably really wants you gone. Mareliux put him in a really difficult situation by marrying an alien. The Emperor could either toss Mareliux to the side and denounce him, or pretend that everything is fine. He picked the latter, because he’s too weak for the fight and doesn’t want the whole chaos that goes with appointing a new heir apparent.Especially when the old one is as popular as my brother. That problem goes away if you were to meet with some unfortunate accident, Umbra. Or if you were to do something the Emperor could see as a treasonous act. With you dead, there would be no alien empress, and Mareliux can enjoy a long succession of official and unofficial mistresses while he rules alone as a widower. Has he not told you?”
