Page 27 of Taken By the Alien Siren King

We’d given our people hope.

Lairos and I reached the dais where two identical thrones waited. Before them waited an elderly Khadian whose elaborate headdress marked him as the High Priest. His wizened face remained impassive as we approached, but I caught the flicker of assessment in his eyes as they swept over me.

The humming that had followed us down the aisle quieted, leaving a silence that pressed against my ears. Lairos gave my hand one final squeeze before mounting the steps and taking his throne.

“Who comes before us to be named Queen Consort of Delovia?” The High Priest’s voice carried through the hall.

This was it. The point of no return. I could still back out, still find a way for my people to settle elsewhere. Somewhere without soul songs and sea monsters and political intrigue that made my head spin.

But then I looked at Lairos. At the man who’d risked everything to save me. Who’d given me his home, his bed, his body, and most importantly, his trust. The choice became as clear as the waters around his private sanctuary.

My voice rang through the hall. “Emme Mathis of Earth.”

“Emme Mathis of Earth,” he intoned, “do you swear to uphold the well-being of the Khadian people? To support yourking in times of peace and war? To honor the sacred waters of Sanos that gave us life?”

I straightened my spine. “I swear it.”

The priest’s weathered hands lifted a small shell. “Then receive the blessing of our people and come before us pure of heart.”

Cool liquid splashed against my forehead. The scent of saltwater filled my nose, familiar and alien all at once. Then came a second shell, this one filled with dark liquid that could only be squid ink. The priest traced patterns on my palms.

“The mark of life lost,” he intoned. “The weight every ruler must bear.”

The ink dried quickly, leaving behind a stain that would fade in days but whose meaning would remain forever: every decision I made as queen would impact lives. Some would be lost, and that blood would be on my hands. Care for the kingdom came above all.

An attendant approached holding a cushioned pillow. The priest lifted a scepter first—driftwood adorned with pearls and fragments of coral. It settled into my palm with surprising weight.

“To guide our people through calm and storm,” the priest said.

Next came a knife as long as my forearm, the hilt studded with more pearls and delicate gold filigree. The blade itself gleamed with an otherworldly sheen and tapered to a wickedly sharp point.

“Forged from the fang of the sea dragon,” the priest explained. “To defend our waters against all who would threaten them.”

Lairos stepped forward then, taking a smaller version of his own crown from another attendant. Our eyes met as he raised itabove my head. No smirk now, no teasing light in his eyes. Only fierce pride and pure adoration.

“My queen,” he said, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall as he placed the crown on my head. “My mate.”

The weight settled against my brow, surprisingly light for something made of teeth and shells. The humming crescendoed around us, vibrating through the stone floor and up into my body until I felt like I might shatter from the force of it.

Then, as one, the Khadians knelt. Even the priest. Even the attendants.

Only Lairos remained standing beside me, his hand finding mine again as he led me to the twin thrones waiting on the dais.

We burstthrough the doors of our chambers, our laughter echoing off the stone walls. The festivities had devolved into celebration and drunken dancing long before we decided to retire to the royal suite.

I leaned my head against Lairos’s shoulder, intoxicated more from his kisses than the wine flowing freely among our guests. After today, after everything we’d been through, nothing sounded better than crawling into bed and spending hours reaffirming our bond.

No outside forces. No threats to the kingdom or danger lurking around every corner. Just us.

Lairos’s hands found my waist, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body seeped through the thin linen, igniting a fire in my core. His lips brushed my ear, voice low and husky. “My queen.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the possessive growl in those two simple words. I tilted my head, offering my neck in a gesture that felt more natural with each passing day. “My king.”

His teeth grazed the sensitive skin just below my jaw, and I gasped. The crown on my head shifted, reminding me of its presence. Of everything it represented.

“Second thoughts?” Lairos murmured, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.

I shook my head, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. My fingertips ghosted over the sharp angles of his face, memorizing every plane and hollow. “No second thoughts. Just... processing.”

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