Page 62 of Maid for the Alien Prince

Camila shrugged. “I know how much your farm means to you and that you would do anything to get it back to the way it once was.”

We rode our Fayam over the hills and far away.

Acis admitted he had lost contact with many of the other farmers as, despite having far less to farm, he now had to do all the work himself, and didn’t know which lots were still operating.

We traveled from one lot to another and found most of them empty and abandoned. Each one drew an even sadder expression on Acis’ face, no doubt having shared many memories at each home we came to.

The depression gave way to grim determination as the importance of our goal began to instill confidence in him, encouraging him to keep going alongside us, to not give up, and know that things could only get better from here.

I could barely control the Fayam beneath me. I had never ridden one before and I found it unruly and difficult to control. As the hours passed, I began to feel a connection with the beast, which seemed to know how inexperienced I was and simply followed Camila’s or Acis’ lead.

It gave me time to practice controlling it by steering first one way and then the other. Finally, I picked up the reins and took the beast away from the trail Camila made for us and formed my own, drawing alongside her.

She smiled over at me at my improvement. I was far from an expert—how could I be with so little experience of the creatures?—but my natural fear of them had begun to dissipate.

We stopped at each farm that was still occupied and were treated to homemade food, snacks, and drinks. As delicious as it was, it made me sick to my stomach that I was taking what they couldn’t afford to give—mostly due to the prohibitive rents Ges was charging.

The farmers were kind and hospitable and it hurt me to realize that my actions—or in this case, my inactions—had led to difficulties they were struggling to surmount.

They met my eyes with the same look of worry and concern that gradually shifted once they listened to what Camila and Acis had to say, about how the farming terms would not return to how they had been, but would become even better.

“Why?” they always asked. “Why would you pick from your own pocket that which you do not have to give?”

I looked to Camila and Acis, and they nodded for me to say something, and what came from me was nothing if not true and heartfelt:

“Because I have enough money coming in already. I want to do more with it. I want to help those who are willing to work hard and help themselves.”

The farmer’s wife looked over at me skeptically. “And why would you do that? No royal has ever given more than they must in the past.”

I couldn’t help but grind my teeth at being referred to as a royal, and the farmer’s wife was sharp enough to pick up on it.

“Because I wasn’t born a royal. At least, I didn’t know I was. And when I learned the truth of my heritage, the royal family—my family—tried to take it from me. I am no more royal than you or anyone else sitting around this table. I just happen to have been born into wealth that I never thought I would have. Now imagine it was you who suddenly found yourself owning this palace. What would you do?”

The farmer’s wife’s eyes sparked, and a smile curled underneath them. “I’d show those dirty bastards up,” she said.

Her husband hissed and hastily waved his hands in supplication. “Forgive my wife. She can be a little… lively.”

The grin didn’t fade from the wife’s face.

I smiled over at the farmer and squeezed Camila’s hand. “Then consider yourself very lucky. I know how fortunate we are to have such women in our lives.”

We left the farmhouse and I took Camila to one side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak like that.”

Camila cut me off. “You mean, the truth? You should never apologize for saying the truth. Besides, I think that was what pushed them over the edge. It’s your story. It’s the truth. And it gives them something to believe in.”

By the end of the day (and after I had given my little ‘truth story’ more than a dozen times) we had reached every farmer still active on the estate.

Although some still seemed skeptical that I would really follow through on my promises, as Acis pointed out to them, “What do you have to lose?”

The farmers reacted differently—sometimes chuckling to themselves, sometimes shaking their heads dismissively and shrugging their shoulders—but they all agreed with his point. They really did have nothing to lose.

We returned to Acis’ farm late. The temperature was cool, and the wind brisk, and I pulled up alongside Camila to block the worst of the wind with my body.

My scales were more effective in extreme forms of temperature—whether that was icy cold, in which case the scales could form tiny air bubbles beneath the surface to keep me warm, or absorbing the worst of the heat and allowing my inner systems to control my internal body temperature separately.

I invited Acis to join us for dinner, but he politely declined. “I have an evening routine for my crops and to leave them in the lurch would be akin to cheating on them. But thank you for your offer. It has been a very… interesting day.”

He bowed from the back of his Fayam, climbed off, and walked back to his farm.

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