Blue Alien Prince's Obedient Mate

by Zara Zenia

  “I'm sure you can,” Pralmav said. “But I haven't cleaned that table yet, and I just had fecal samples from a Fernadiaz on there.”

  “Ew . . .” Draklan slid off gracefully, his stomach in his mouth as he imagined what kind of fecal samples the large animal had left. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I just told you,” Pralmav said, straightening up.

  “Is this why you brought me here?” he asked. “So I could be grossed out before supper?”

  “No,” Pralmav said without cracking a smile. “Although that would have been amusing.”

  “Hilarious,” Draklan replied. “What can I do for you, Brother?”

  “Your kingdom,” Pralmav said. “Or rather, the kingdom you'll get when Bhatraz ascends to the throne.”

  “What about it?” Draklan asked. He’d often visited the islands that he would one day govern. They were his dynasty, his legacy, and he had so many plans for them.

  “I'd like to set up a research base there.”

  “Oh?” Draklan said, taken aback. “Why?”

  “Because I think that Arcadia originated there,” Pralmav said. “And there are several diseases that are . . . related to it, if you will. If I can find the origin of it, I can probably cure at least three other illnesses by next year.”

  “Just like that?” Draklan asked. “Why do you need my permission?”

  “It's your kingdom, Draklan,” Pralmav replied. “It’s what Father wanted, and being yours, I need your permission.”

  “Yes, I know,” Draklan replied. “But I mean . . . why would I object to your doing that?”

  “Because if I get it wrong, I could damage the entire ecosystem,” Pralmav replied.

  “Is that all?” Draklan replied with a frown. “What diseases are you looking at?”

  “Large Pox, Red Fever, and Malcolm's Disease,” Pralmav said.

  Draklan choked. “By all means, Brother, set up your base,” Draklan said. “If you can rid us of those diseases on the planet, then please, do what you need to.”

  “If the ecosystem is damaged, though, Draklan, our race will have to find another food source, because—”

  “Stop!” Draklan held up his hand. “I trust you, Pralmav, but I'm not going to understand the next words you say anyway, so please don't try. You're risk averse. I know you'll do what is best. If you want to set up a base, go ahead.”

  “Wonderful,” Pralmav said. “Then I will put the plans in place at once. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Draklan said and then wrinkled his nose. “I have to go see Bhatraz. Do you think I should shower first or just go give him a hug?” Draklan grinned mischievously.

  “I’m sure he won’t mind too much,” said a female voice behind them.

  They both turned around to find Princess Milinna behind them. Milinna was Pralmav's wife, and Draklan often wondered if his brother was aware of that fact at all. They were married shortly before their father’s assassination, and in terms of intelligence, they were a perfect match for each other.

  Milinna was a small, bookish woman, and she worked as a lab assistant for Pralmav. However, she had clearly been in love with him from the moment she laid eyes on him. Although they were both very serious about their work, she was always trying to get him to pay attention to her. She was forever looking for ways to distract him and to have a relationship that was beyond the test tubes and lab work. With pale eyes and white-gold hair that she constantly tied back, Draklan didn't personally fancy her, but he thought she was just his brother's type . . . if he ever looked up from his work.

  For Pralmav, his mother's wrath was not about getting married but creating heirs. It was a two-step process to their mother's happiness, although since none of the brothers had gotten past step one, they weren't sure how many more steps she would create after the birth of a grandchild.

  “What?” Draklan asked, confused.

  “Hugging your brother without showering,” Milinna said. “I think you should do it. You boys should express affection more often instead of . . .”

  “Oh, I may just take your advice then,” Draklan said with another grin at his brother.

  Pralmav rolled his eyes. “Do you have those samples for me, Milinna?” he asked. “I know I haven't given you much time, so if you need a few more hours . . .”

  “Here,” she said, putting down a tray. “Everything you've asked me to do is complete.”

  “Already?” Pralmav said with a smile. “That's wonderful.”

  “If we’ve finished everything early,” Milinna started, “maybe we could go to dinner tonight?”

  “There are more tasks I need finished,” he said, ripping off a sheet from a notepad. “I didn't think we'd start on these until tomorrow, but since we now have time, it will be wonderful to get them completed too.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking at the list. Her head hung down for a moment before she pasted a smile on her lips and said, “Of course.”

  “And Draklan’s granted us permission to set up a research facility on the island,” Pralmav said. “What a happy time.”

  Milinna glanced at her brother-in-law.

  “You are aware of the risks?”

  “Nope,” Draklan said. “And honestly, I don't want to know. I trust you two not to sink my islands.”

  “Oh, we won't sink the islands,” Pralmav said. “At worst, we’ll make them barren and infertile.”

  “Good to know,” Draklan said. “Anything else you need?”

  “No, I believe that’s it,” Pralmav said.

  “Right.” Draklan looked between his brother and Milinna. “Pralmav, can I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Of course,” Pralmav said, in a lighter mood now that he knew he was ahead in his tasks for the day. He led his brother into a side room, closing the door behind them as Milinna headed back to her office. “Is something wrong?”

  “Mother wants to see me,” Draklan said. “Any idea what she wants?”

  “For you to get married?” Pralmav replied, as if it was obvious.

  “Yes, I know that,” Draklan said. “But she's followed all of us around, reminding us to live a righteous and fruitful life for the last five years. She doesn't have to call an official meeting in the Grand Hall in order to let me know that.”

  “No, you're right.” Pralmav wrinkled his brow. “I have no idea then, other than to reinforce the idea.”

  “I don't think I've ever heard you say, ‘no idea’,” Draklan replied with a grin.

  “That's not true,” Pralmav said. “Eight years ago, I—”

  “I'm going to stop you right there,” Draklan said. “I'm sure you have, at some point. I have to go see Bhatraz and I know you're itching to go back to work.”

  “Yes,” Pralmav said. “You know me well. I'll see you later, then, at supper.”

  “I think you should take Milinna out to supper,” Draklan said.

  Pralmav looked at him blankly. “Why?” Pralmav said. “There's supper provided every night here.”

  “And you're trying to be economical or something?” Draklan said. “We're princes, Pralmav. It doesn't matter if we go out and buy dinner every night of our lives.”

  “Well, actually, if we did that, at approximately two hundred credits a night, then our inheritance would be—”

  “But one night won't hurt, will it?” Draklan asked. “I may not be a mathematical genius, but I'm pretty sure I can figure that out.”

  “No,” Pralmav admitted with a frown. “It won't. But we have work to do after dinner, so . . .”

  “Of course you do,” Draklan said. “I'll leave you to work out the math, Brother. See you later.”

  Deciding that he didn't have time for a shower, he headed down the hallways of the Tamarax palace to see his eldest brother.

  Unlike his relationship with Pralmav, he and Bhatraz didn't get on quite as well. Instead of being humble and working hard, it seemed that everything that Bhatraz wanted came to him at the snap of his fingers. Tall, ha
ndsome, and charismatic, as crown prince, he was to rule the entire continent once the throne passed to him, though he pretty much did the job anyway in Mother’s stead. Bhatraz, too, had married about a year before Father’s death, exactly as their mother wanted, and he loved his wife dearly.

  However, ever since their father's assassination, Draklan had seen cracks in the surface of his so-called perfect brother. Bhatraz seemed to be suffering breakdowns in semi-private, sometimes for hours and sometimes for just a moment, before his mask of charisma went back on. It was almost frightening to watch, and as much as they didn't get along, Draklan worried about his brother. His father had once said that it was a burden to wear the crown, and Bhatraz wasn't even officially on the throne yet.

  He found Bhatraz in the library, staring out at the garden. His hands were folded behind his back and his face was pensive.

  “Brother,” Draklan said as he walked into the huge library. “You wished to see me?”

  “I did,” Bhatraz said. As soon as he spun around, Draklan could tell this was one of Bhatraz’s bad days. It seemed that Bhatraz was having more bad days than good days for the past year. “I wanted to ask you about last night.”

  “Last night?” Draklan said, confused. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened last night.

  “Last night,” Bhatraz said. “When Princess Rabbina chose to go to bed early.”

  “Okay?” Draklan asked, feeling confused.

  “And then you chose to go to bed early,” Bhatraz said.

  Draklan raised an eyebrow. “I was tired, Bhatraz,” he said. “A ten-mile hike before supper gets to you.”

  “And that's all it was?” Bhatraz asked, arching a brow.

  Draklan laughed. “What are you talking about?” he asked, playing it off, even though he knew exactly what Bhatraz was upset over. Rabbina was closer in age to Draklan than Bhatraz, and she wasn't shy about letting the world know she was in the peak of her prime. Voluptuous with thick silver curls and sparkling pale blue eyes, she had a sly look that seemed permanently etched on. “She's your wife, Bhatraz. What are you saying?”

  “She told me you looked handsome in your uniform,” Bhatraz said.

  “Maybe I do,” Draklan replied, giving his brother a smirk. “Rabbina states facts, Bhatraz, that's all. She's your wife.”

  “You went straight to bed?” Bhatraz looked him right in the eye.

  “I'm sure there's fifteen security cameras that will tell you I’m speaking the truth,” Draklan replied in exasperation. “I would never do that to you, Bhatraz.”

  “Of course not.” Bhatraz's mask of charisma came right back on, “of course, you wouldn’t. I'm just teasing you, Draklan.”

  “Sure, you are,” Draklan said tightly, knowing that his brother wasn't joking in the slightest. “Did you want to see me for any other reason?”

  “Of course,” Bhatraz said. “I need you to do balcony duty tomorrow.”

  “Why?” Draklan asked, annoyed.

  Balcony duty was part of being born royal. Every morning at ten, a royal member of the family appeared on the balcony so that they could be seen by their subjects, admired, and cheered for. Usually, it was the job of the reigning monarch or the crown prince. Bhatraz took his position very seriously and always cleared his schedule so that he was available.

  “Because Rabbina wants to try a breakfast place in town and I would not like to deny her anything,” Bhatraz said. “Am I not entitled to that?”

  “Of course you are entitled to breakfast,” Draklan replied, confused. “Just . . . can't you have breakfast earlier?”

  “No,” Bhatraz said. “That is what she wants, and she is the crown princess, so she outranks you.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” Draklan said sarcastically. He found it ironic that Pralmav had the opposite problem just minutes ago. “Fine, I'll do it.”

  “Thank you,” Bhatraz said. “I can give you some pointers, if you need.”

  “I think I'll be all right,” Draklan replied, giving him a strange look. He’d done balcony duty many times before, and it annoyed him that his brother thought he needed help. “I have to go meet Mother in a few minutes, though. Any pointers for that?”

  “Wear plated armor?” Bhatraz said, arching a brow and smirking at him.

  “Good tip,” Draklan said dryly before exiting the library. The fact that both of his brothers had no idea what Queen Joronna wanted bothered him. Usually, she discussed issues with at least one of them.

  The hallway to the Grand Hall consisted of many turns gilded in gold, with statues and decorations in many corners. Despite the fact that he had grown up in the palace, he had always been distracted by the beautiful columns. He could never have a meeting while walking through that hall because he'd never be able to pay attention.

  He was looking at a tapestry when he almost ran into Princess Rabbina a few steps before the entrance of the Grand Hall. Of course, he suspected, when he recovered from the near-miss, that it was because she practically threw herself on him.

  He caught a whiff of alcohol as soon as she moved close enough to him, and he quickly realized that she had been drinking. It wasn't uncommon for the princess to indulge, which only enhanced her blunt personality.

  “Draklan,” she said with a grin. “Fancy running into you here.”

  “In the palace, where we both live,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, quite surprising.”

  “Well, you're usually off saving the world,” she said, reaching out to touch his chest. “Which is why you probably build up all these muscles.”

  “I have to go see the queen right now, Rabbina,” Draklan said. “Perhaps we could talk later?”

  “I'll come with you,” she commented.

  Draklan raised an eyebrow. His brother was right. She did outrank him, and he couldn't very well deny her access to the place she would inherit one day. “Um . . . sure,” he said. “I'm sure the queen will be delighted to see you.”

  He didn't exactly mean it, but Rabbina took it as sincerity. She tried to loop her arm into his, but Draklan kept his arms steadily at his sides as he entered the Grand Hall.

  Joronna was sitting on the throne, and she had clearly been waiting for him. If she was surprised to see Rabbina, she didn't show it.

  “Draklan,” she said. “Thank you for joining me.”

  “Of course,” he said, bowing low. “What can I do for you, Mother?”

  When he straightened up, Rabbina leaned closer to him. Draklan took a step away, annoyed. Although he knew Bhatraz had a reason to be suspicious of Rabinna's behavior toward him, he certainly didn't return the affection.

  “It has been five years since your father passed,” she said. “The anniversary of his death is coming up next week.”

  “Yes, I'm aware,” Draklan said. “Did you wish to have a . . . memorial ceremony?”

  “No,” his mother said. “At least, not a memorial ceremony.”

  “What kind of ceremony were you considering, Mother?” Draklan asked, confused as he picked up on his mother's tone.

  “A wedding.”

  “A wedding?” Even Rabbina, in her state, seemed confused by that.

  “I’ve told you and your brothers repeatedly over the past five years that you must focus on the legacy that your father left you. He was a beloved ruler and a strong family man, and we will uphold his wishes. You must get married, as your brothers have.”

  “Yes, let me just magic a bride out of thin air,” Draklan couldn't help but say.

  His mother's face contorted in a smile that genuinely frightened him. “I can do that for you, Son.”

  “What?” he asked in disbelief.

  “I've hired a matchmaker through Celestial Mates,” she said, a smile touching her lips. “And she's found the perfect match for you. You will be married soon.”

  “Excuse me?” Draklan sputtered. His heart raced at the thought of marrying a stranger. “I don't think so.”

  “I’ve given you more than enough ti
me,” she answered. “And I know well enough that if you are left to your own devices, the only thing you will do is train and fight. You spend too much of your life in that gym. You haven't had time to even bother looking for a wife.”

  “That's not true,” Draklan said. “The women here . . . I just haven't—”

  “Which is why I've found someone for you,” Joronna answered. “And you will do as I say.”

  “Or what?” Draklan sputtered, holding in his temper.

  “Or I will not see you as fit to inherit the islands,” Joronna answered.

  “Excuse me?” Draklan's eyes almost popped out of his head. “You can't take that away from me!”

  “I can, and I will,” Joronna said. “Especially if I think that the islands will not be taken care of. You must show me you will uphold the legacy your father set out for you.”

  “He would not want this!” Draklan tried to argue.

  “He would not want his sons to embarrass him,” his mother snapped. “Or to destroy everything he worked for. Even though it was his wish that you inherit them, it is at the discretion of the ruling monarch. Your whole life is at my discretion, and so if you don't agree, I will have no choice.”

  “Poor Draklan.” Rabbina clucked at him. “He's so handsome and yet can't find anyone here. It's the greatest mystery in Tamarax's history.”

  “Rabbina.” Draklan bit his tongue in order to stop himself from saying anything that he would regret. “Mother.” He turned back to her. “Fine,” he said. “But know that I am incredibly unhappy with this. And any woman you find for me, I can guarantee that I will not love her.”

  “You don't have to love her, Draklan!” Joronna snapped. “Just don't spit on your father's grave. You may go.”

  Draklan turned on his heel and stormed out, his blood boiling. He saw red, his breath coming harshly. He couldn't believe that his mother was going to do this to him. She clearly didn't understand a thing about him or have any regard for his mental wellbeing. If she wanted him to do this, he knew he had no choice. But he meant what he’d said. He wouldn't fall in love with some woman a matchmaker found, who was likely unmarriageable in her own circles.