Assistant for the Alien Prince by Tammy Walsh
Zai
There they stood.
The richest and most powerful tribe leaders.
Beside them, their beautiful daughters.
With their twilight skin and tattoos that curled about their cheeks and slithered down their necks, they were considered the most desirable females in the entire kingdom.
Even now, wearing the black dresses in the traditional funeral style of the Ev’vat, they were gorgeous.
And almost as famous as me.
The cameras whirred from a dozen directions, turning this somber scene into the biggest holo-televised event in history.
Billions of our people were watching it right at this moment.
And most of their attention would be on me.
No pressure.
The king was dead.
My father was dead.
The most beloved leader in our illustrious history.
He’d foiled the civil war and united our species beneath our royal sigil.
He was beloved and respected far and wide, and no one loved him more than me—with the possible exception of my mother, who now stood at my side, clutching my hand in hers, her face calm and serene.
As loyal to my father as any wife.
Now her husband lay at our feet in the open casket, carved from the trunk of the hallowed Qushik tree.
I couldn't bring myself to look down on him, having already said my goodbyes that night he finally succumbed to the disease and passed away.
I was the crown prince and soon it would be my turn to rule over the kingdom my father had built—a kingdom that was already cracking beneath the strain of his passing.
If I didn't choose the right fated mate from one of the daughters of the three powerful tribe leaders standing opposite me, the entire kingdom may very well pull itself apart, plunging us into another civil war, one I was certain we wouldn’t survive this time around.
Three beautiful daughters.
One of them was destined to be the next queen.
They certainly looked the part.
But did they have what it took?
Do I?
Just the thought alone made me sick to my stomach.
The Grand Septon finished reading over my father’s body and shut her holy book.
The next part of the ceremony must now take place.
I wanted to call off the ceremony, to tell my mother she didn’t have to do this, but there were too many cameras, too many judging eyes watching me.
I couldn’t stop this ceremony any more than I could a runaway shuttlecraft.
My mother bent down and reached for the crown perched on her dead husband’s head.
She paused a moment and lovingly kissed him on the forehead.
It wasn't part of the tradition but I suspected it would play well with the common Ev’vat—not that that was the reason she’d done it.
Their love was legendary, something the people looked up to and tried to emulate.
She removed his crown and straightened up.
She turned to me, peered into my eyes, and smiled distantly.
Then she placed the crown on me, raised her head, and spoke in a clear strong voice:
“All hail the king!”
The entire congregation repeated her words three times:
“All hail the king!”
“All hail the king!”
“All hail the king!”
It was loud, deafening, and some of those booming the words might have even meant them.
My mother was the first to fall to her knees, then the privileged few, then the endless sea of figures spread out for miles in every direction, the funeral at their heart.
Throughout the galaxy, behind seventy billion holo-TV screens, Ev’vat fell to their knees.
And there I stood, a lone figure.
None could have known the doubts passing through my mind at that point.
Could I live up to my father's reputation?
Or would I go down in history as the sole leader incapable of carrying out his duties and end up destroying the royal family?
A billion miles away, as yet unknown by me, was a fourth potential fated mate of a far and distant alien race.
She would steal my heart and threaten me, the kingdom, and everything I held dear.
When the choice was between my head and my heart, which would win out?
And when I made a mistake, was it possible to reverse it?
