Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance (10 page)

“All of the Qeteshi settlements have one,” I said to Lore, jerking my chin toward the Spire as we took up our trek once more. “They were designed for dual functionality. They were the ships that brought my people to this planet, and when they landed, they buried themselves halfway into the earth to serve as the center of the city. It’s where our leader lives and holds her audiences.” I paused, casting my gaze to the ground beneath my feet. “Well. She used to, at any rate.”

“And you will, one day,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. Nevertheless, the notion gave me an odd sensation of having taken over someone else’s life. If I were to return and take up the mantle of the leader of my people, then yes, I would live there and hold audiences there. But I did not know if I wanted that life. And, more important, I did not know if the people I’d abandoned would have me.

“We shall see,” came my purposefully vague reply. How had I let this creature so overturn my life? What was I thinking? I was not thinking at all, plainly. Or if I was, it was not with the head on my shoulders, but with another organ, much lower and less inclined to reason. I frowned and picked up my pace so she had to work double time to keep up.

We reached the outskirts of the city, and the tall grass gave way to the manicured landscapes of the yards of the outer homes. They were situated in neat rings, all facing northeast toward the Spire. The houses themselves were sturdy wooden things, cabins with simple plate glass windows. Most of them were of the same design: square, single floor with a loft space you could reach by a ladder, a privy room in the back, windows on three walls and a fire pit at the curved entrance. These houses had been standing since long before I was born, but half of them were abandoned now. Since the population had dwindled, many of the homes on the outer edges of town had fallen to ruin, wood rot damp claiming the proud structures that had once been noble homes to good, hardworking families. It made my heart ache to see them.

“This way,” Waelden said, and marched us straight toward the center of town. As we got closer and closer to the center, Lorelei and I began to catch the attention of some of the passersby. Few of them had seen a human woman before, and fewer still had seen hide nor hair of me since the day I stormed out of Larandi to go live the life of a hermit two day’s journey away. Now I was back with a human girl in tow, and I was headed straight for the priory.

The priory was a beautiful building, made of stone and clay bricks, with intricate stained glass windows and carved and decorated balustrades that depicted frozen scenes from the mythology of our people. I always thought that the priory was the most beautiful building I had ever seen. Inside, the ceiling and parapets looked like you were laying on a forest floor and looking up at the trees: it was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. And Lorelei agreed with me.

She peered in wonder at the building as we approached it, her jaw hanging slightly agape. The daylight sent colorful beams to dance on the floor of the holy space, our toes colored by it as we tread lightly over the stone.

“This is extraordinary,” she whispered as we moved through the wide, empty space. The dais boasted a simple altar to our pantheon but that was all that was in the room. The rest of quiet stillness.

“We’ll wait for you out here,” Waelden said in hushed tones, holding Vanixa’s elbow as Lore and I headed toward the back of the room. I held open a heavy wood and iron door to allow her to pass through into the offices and living spaces of the highest of the holy order. This was where I had lived, this was where I had worked. Only married Priesthood holders lived off premises.

“What are we doing now?” Lorelei asked, still whispering.

“You don’t have to whisper,” I said. “And we’re inquiring about a marriage—”

“Already!” she all but shouted, giving me a start.

“We do not know how long it will take the slavers to get here,” I said, turning to face her. “Once we go to the Spire and hail the
Atria
, we do not know whether or not the Quarter Moon will pick up our signal. We have precious little information. If you would like to protect yourself from them, then you will do as I suggest. But I shall force no creature into an unwanted marriage, so you had best make up your mind, and make it up quickly.”

I was perhaps a tad sterner than I’d meant to be, but Lorelei puffed up her chest somewhat and gave a sharp nod of her head. “Of course,” she said, “you are being reasonable. Let us just… do what must be done.”

“Very well.”

The offices and living spaces were not the bustle of activity I remembered them being. But the entire village seemed as though it had taken on a slower, more dour pace. It had been my great hope that the presence of the Europax women would have reinvigorated my people, but everyone seemed to be going about their daily lives with a sort of hopelessness I found very disturbing.

The priory was quiet, as was to be expected, but I saw few men of the Cloth. Where were my Qulari brethren?

I came upon an initiate, perhaps the youngest man in the entire village, whose horns were red from having so recently been blunted. He looked up from his work when he heard us approach. His eyes were a fine cobalt, the same color as his skin. His hair was black and cropped short, and he had a kind smile. Well, it was kind at first, until it turned into an expression of shocked recognition.

“Calder Fev’rosk!” he shouted, pointing at me as though I were a ghost. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, I am afraid that it is.” I think I smiled, but from the way his expression shifted, I do not believe it was to much effect.

“What brings you back to Larandi, sir?” he asked, rising from his spot behind the broad wooden desk and coming around to shake my hand. I clapped him on the shoulder, wishing I knew his name as well as he knew mine.

“An emergency, I fear,” I said, and gestured to the silent Lore at my side. “This is Ms. Lorelei Vauss. She, er…” How much of her story should we tell? “She and I…well, we…”

“We would like to marry, if you’d be so kind as to pull up the appropriate paperwork and perform the required rites.” Lorelei smiled, and the Qulari blinked down at her.

“How wonderful,” he said, shaking her hand. “My name is Erix Ayl’and, and I would be honored to help you both in any way that I can.” He moved back around to the other side of his desk and began rummaging through the mounds of paper there. It was a sort of controlled chaos as he thumbed through page after page, setting aside stack after stack until he found what he was searching for. “Ah, here we are!” he shouted, triumphant. “A standard contract of marriage.” He held the paper close to his chest as he allowed his eyes to dart back and forth between us.

As I reached out to take it from him, he drew it back again. “If I may be so bold,” he said, almost conspiratorial in the way he whispered to us. “I think the people could use something to boost their morale.”

“I am sure they could,” I said.

“I mean,” he went on, “that we should have a traditional marriage feast. Particularly if you are to resume your mantle as the leader, and—”

“I never said I was going to lead.”

“You never said you were not going to lead, either,” Lorelei interjected. She considered me levelly, and silenced me with a single look. “We will have a feast,” she said on my behalf. I may have scowled, but I did not argue. “We will have a feast, but we will perform the ceremony and sign the paperwork now, in private.”

Erix gave an enthusiastic nod of his head. “I shall make sure that you have everything you need for the feast. I shall see to it personally. And I really think it is a wonderful idea that will inspire hope for the people of Larandi. Quite frankly, they are badly in need of it.”

Erix gestured for us to follow him back out into the main hall, and we did. But I had a niggling feeling about what he was saying. “What is it that have my people so unhappy?”

“In the years since the arrival of the Europax women,” Erix said, holding the heavy door open for us, “not a single issue has been born.”

I started. “Not one?”

“Not one.” I cast a desperate look to Lore, who did not know what to make of the news. For me, it was devastating. It was just another step toward the eventual annihilation of my people.

“But, come,” Erix said, gesturing that we should gather near the dais. “We shall have no more talk of these sad things. Not when this is a day of celebration for you fine people.”

I glanced around the room to find that Waelden and Vanixa had gone back outside again. No matter. It was merely a perfunctory ceremony. As I watched Lorelei smooth her hair back and adjust her tunic, I realized that the entire thing meant very little at all to anyone. What was the point of such unions, if there would be no offspring to come of them? I heaved a sigh, and allowed Erix to join our hands together. He wrapped them with rope, fasting them tightly, and began to read from the ancient text that was our holy book.

“You are certain you wish to go through with this?” I murmured to my would-be bride.

“I do not see what choice I have,” came her tepid reply. But then she smiled up at me, lifting her free hand to brush lightly over my cheek. “I am sure,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Shall we continue with the vows?” Erix asked, gently urging. I waited for my lady to nod her head in consent. “Very well. Calder Fev’rosk, first of his name, you are here to bind yourself to Lorelei Vauss—”

“Lorelei Adaline Vauss,” she amended. “First of my name.”

“Lorelei Adaline Vauss, first of her name. And she has agreed to be bound to you.” Erix gripped the knot of our hands and allowed his eyes to close. “We invoke the essence of the God Te’Ovid, the All Father, and his wife, the Goddess Khal’Tari, the Great Mother. We bind these people in your names, and we ask that you watch over them and help them to upload the oaths they swear this day.” He dropped our hands then, and lifted his holy book up to flip past a few pages.

“Typically speaking, these ceremonies are much longer,” I explained, and Lore smiled at me. “I believe he is just skipping ahead.”

“Just so,” Erix confirmed, and punctuated the finding of his intended page with a loud, “Ah!” that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. “Here we are. Do you so swear that you shall live in the light of the All Father and the Great Mother together, side by side, in body and intention?”

“I so swear,” I said, and looked pointedly at Lorelei.

“I so swear,” she dutifully responded.

“Your souls will join as your hands have joined, and you shall be together the rest of your days, together beyond the breathing of your body, together even in the silent memory of the Gods.”

I looked down into her lovely moon-shaped face, and her irises were two bright lily pads in the swimming sea of her eyes. Gods above, but she was a beauty. A rare jewel on this wretched, forsaken planet.

“Very good, and congratulations to you both!” Erix shouted, breaking my reverie and rather unceremoniously untying our hands. “Now, we’ll sign the paperwork. Then, you can head to the Spire where you’ll be bathed and prepared for the joining—”

“Joining?” Lore asked with wide and questioning eyes.

“And then we shall feast!”

As it happens, the “joining” is precisely what it sounds like: a public consummation. I get that I’m a stranger and all, but this seemed to border on the ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I sincerely enjoyed all the primping, the fine clothes, the jewels, all of that was fantastic. It was the whole public consummation thing that I found just ever so slightly off-putting.

I’m aware that there is historical precedence, even in human culture. Kings were expected to consummate their marriages under the watchful eyes of the aristocracy. But that was eons ago, and I am not a Queen. I’m a linguist who was born on a spaceship, and I married a man with horns to escape a group of marauding slavers. How is this my life?

There was something strangely sweet about our rushed marriage ceremony, and I didn’t even notice how sweaty my hand had grown in his when the Qulari, Erix, had tied them together. A few words, an oath sworn, a document signed, and that was that: Calder Fev’rosk, a Qualri Prince of Qetesh, was my husband.

We emerged from the priory almost tentatively, like we didn’t quite know how to go back to the rest of the greater world. Waelden clapped Calder on the shoulder and kissed me warmly on the cheek in expression of his joy on our behalf. Vanixa said, “Congratulations,” and nothing more.

We headed together toward the Spire, even as news of Calder’s return spread like wildfire. I could see people whispering as we passed, and eventually — because news traveled faster than we did — shouts of congratulations and expressions of enthusiasm as regarded the coming festivities.

“Jeez, news travels fast here,” I muttered, and Calder chuckled and nodded his head.

I barely saw the village as we passed through it, registering only the odd building, the stalls of the market, the thin, willowy Europax women and their hulking, horned Qeteshi husbands.

“You are going to have to fuck him now,” Vanixa said to me, her voice lilting and quiet. “Now that you have married him, he will expect it.”

“I… um. I guess, yeah, that’s what happens in a marriage…” I didn’t know what to say to her; she wore an expression of sadistic amusement. All I could do was quirk a brow at her strangeness.

“You will probably hate it,” she went on, crossing her arms beneath her small breasts. “I hate it. I have to sleep with my husband, and I hate it. And you will probably also hate it. They’re disgusting brutes, the Qeteshi.”

I stopped in my tracks and stared up at Vanixa. “Then why on earth did you volunteer to come here?” I asked. “If you are so disgusted by them, if you hate it here so much, why, why did you come here?”

She gave a shake of her head. “You do not know what it can be like for a woman on Europa.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and moved around me to continue on her way. “Though I am not sure I made the right decision, all the same.”

I furrowed my brow and kept moving. She was right, I knew precious little of Europa. About as much as I knew of Earth, the planet of my own species’ origin. Earth. I had never felt so far away from Earth as I did on the day I married Calder.