Page 94 of Alien Prince's Fake Bride
“Congratulations, Prince Mareliux and Princess Umbra!” the duke says. He must be in his forties and wears a toga-like outfit, like most of the males here. “The Empire needed some fresh influences. And here she is. We saw her on the visuals! Visiting the park that bears your name. Touching the people, of all things! They love her, Your Highness!”
“They should,” Mareliux replies, looking around as if bored.
“And so do you, Your Highness,” the duchess adds, looking at me. “Plainly. Such love I have rarely seen.”
“It’s a rare love,” I reply. “We both had to travel to space to find it.”
“Ah yes. You even got married in space,” the duke says. “Or on an alien world, anyway. Such a…refreshingidea. And then this reception in a workshop, filled with oil and dirt, under glaring lights! Truly the Empire will change with an alien as an Imperial Princess. Some say it will become worse, but I don’t believe it.This reception in a dirty work space is simply a way to say, ‘these are our alien ways’. In the very heart of the Empire, only a short walk from the Tentacle Throne.”
I recognize the unpleasant edge in that statement, despite the friendly voice. Dealing with these things is not difficult. I just agree and amplify, and they can interpret it any way they want.
“Yes!” I reply cheerfully. “It will changesomuch. Nothing will be as it is now! It will all be completely different! Completelyalien!”
“And everything will be much better,” Mareliux backs me up. “As you said, Biafirat, we needed some fresh influences.”
“Well,” the duke says, taken aback, “just don’t change ittoomuch. The Empire must still remain Khavgren at its core.”
“I’m very Khavgren,” I assure him. “The Emperor said I had to be. He made me a princess!” I point to the diadem.
Embracing the airhead persona is easy, and it works by making everyone unsure about how much I really mean of the things I say. I don’t think anyone believes I’m actually this vapid.
The duke says “hmmm,” then bows to Mareliux and turns around. I find that I don’t like him, so I use Syntrix to have his outer toga slide down in the front, so that he steps on it and trips. His wife stops him from falling over, but his sword clatters to the ground and everyone stares. The guards grab their own weapons in readiness.
“Apologies,” the duke says as he straightens, face red. “The floor is so slippery here in this workshop…”
Mareliux leans in. “He deserved it, but let’s keep the Syntrix to a minimum. We don’t want them to start calling you a witch.”
“Maybe we should let them,” I whisper back. “It could be better to be feared than to be dismissed as harmless.”
More people come to congratulate us and to be greeted. Some are officers in the army, and they greet us more heartily than the other nobles.
I’m pleasantly surprised at how easy this is. I know Mareliux has feared this reception, worried I would give the scheme away somehow. But I’m actually having a good time. Most of the people here are actually perfectly nice, at least to our faces, and those who try some veiled attack are easy to deflect. I’m starting to enjoy the reception, feeling that I’m handling it. I’m even starting to think of how I would deal with these people if I were an actual princess. I could do the airhead act with the worst of them, then talk normally to others. It might actually be a lot of fun. And the Syntrix would help. I could use it to embarrass my enemies when they deserved it.
“Quaestor Preniat,”Vera says. “I don’t know if he was ever married. He can’t be now, because he has no wife with him.”
“Your Highness,” Preniat says and gives a stiff, shallow bow. “How gratifying that you have survived the many assassination attempts.”
“Yes, it is gratifying, isn’t it?” Mareliux replies. “That is the appropriate word for still being alive.Gratifying.Have you investigated the attempts, perhaps?”
The quaestor raises his eyebrows. “Investigated, Highness? The attempts? No, no. That is not my function. I have investigated other matters. That are equally important. Or even more so. For instance, your marriage to Ambassador Umbra. It has puzzled me.”
“Has it?” Mareliux asks coldly. “Yes, the act of getting married must puzzle a man who has never found a woman worthy of his attentions. Shall I explain? There is this emotion called ‘love’. It makes one want to be close to a certain other person. Because one simply can’t get enough of that person… it’s a feeling of… oh, it’s so hard to explain to someone who’s never felt it!”
An icy smile creeps across Preniat’s face. “I am familiar with the concept of love, Highness. But in Imperial marriages, especially one that the heir apparent is entering into, other factors are more consequential than the fleeting emotions he might have for his wife.”
“Surely not,” Mareliux says, pretending to be shocked. “Surely one must recognize that an Imperial prince is as much a living thing as any other man, and that he should love his wife?”
“An Imperial prince,” Preniat says, “is more than any other man. He is the future of the Empire. The wedding on Grefve happened under strange circumstances. I cannot find any document signed by you two that confirms your marriage. I saw no such document be signed. I also have significant problems getting to the bottom of who Ambassador Umbra really is. There are no records of her, and that in itself is a problem. No records from her own alien world have been provided. Was she married before, perhaps? Is she still married to someone else? These things need an answer before the House of Nobles can recommend that the Emperor gives final approval for this marriage.”
Mareliux frowns. “Hehasapproved it. Unlike you, the Emperor believes us on our word that we are properly married. He made Umbra a princess. Quaestor, let us not try to be more imperial than the Imperator himself! That way, madness lies.”
“I was present at the time,” Preniat goes on, “and I remember the Emperor using the term ‘provisional’. It means that he assumes everything is in order, and that he will make it all permanent, provided it can all be confirmed. We have still not seen confirmation that Umbra is in a position to get married or that any real wedding actually took place.”
“You were there at our wedding, Quaestor. You saw it happen. Surely you haven’tforgotten?” Mareliux’s voice has a dangerous edge to it.
I look around. The crowd has thinned a little bit. I spot a general’s aide come into the workshop and whisper something to his boss. The general stiffens and hurries out. Other officers follow until only the older nobles and widows are left.
“What I saw may well have been a play,” Preniat says, “a theater. I saw no document being signed, and nothing like that has been presented to be registered at the House of Nobles. I regret having to bring this up here and now, but it has proven remarkably hard to find you two on Khav. I have had no other way to reach you.”
