Page 77 of Crown Prince's Mate

“Thank you,” I say, my voice soft, and take a sip as Oakly glares.

Gallien faces him. “We meant no disrespect, Oakly. If our presence offends, we can leave. We came at your mother’s invitation.”

Oakly’s tanned cheeks are red with anger and the flush of wine, but there’s also a new hesitation. He didn’t expect one of the Aurelians to serve me. It goes against everything he has been told of the species.

My mom crosses her arms and gives Oakly that same look I’ve seen a hundred times before when he opened his mouth too quickly. “You’re welcome here,” he manages, and I can tell how much the words cost him.

Gallien smiles, disarming, and reaches to the tray, his huge hand gripping the stems of all three glasses, and he doesn’t spill a drop as he hands them to his battle-brothers.

“Shall we sit? Dinner is ready,” says my mom, and we make our way to the dinner table.

“I’m here,” I say, and Doman pulls out my chair, just as my dad does the same for my mom to the left of the three oversized chairs in a light wood that is out of place against the flowing harmony of the color scheme my mom designed. Doman sits in the middle, with Titus to his right, next to me, and Gallien to his left, just as they always are, in war or just walking down a hallway.

“Apologies for our clothes,” says Doman, as we settle in. Their finest white robes with the golden accents are streaked with sap and dirt, and Titus has a rip near his bicep. I’m glad they covered up—flaunting their muscled physiques would beover the top, though truthfully, not even the flowing robes can hide their brawn.

“Had to see if they’d risk staining their pretty robes,” grins my dad. I’m surprised at how relaxed he is around the three of them. The Aurelians managed to win his respect.

Think like a Prime Minister. They went into alien territory unprotected—and that is worthy of respect.

I know I’ve been slipping up since being in my home. My identity gets shattered here, as I nestle into the familiar familial dynamics, but the presence of the triad has changed everything. There’s no pretending I’m just like my brother and sister when I have the three princes at my side.

Oakly frowns and grabs one of the bottles of wine on the table, refiling his glass and ignoring my mom’s disapproving glance. She doesn’t have enough glares to spare, but June gets her turn, because she’s staring wide-eyed at the three Aurelians like they are… well, aliens.

My dad cuts the venison, piling plates high, which are handed out until everyone has their share, June’s portion looking minuscule next to the heap of bloody meat on the triad’s plates. My mom raises her glass.

“To family, as it is, as it was, and as it will be,” she says, her eyes finding the ancestor tree as she raises her glass to those who came before us. The curved table wraps around the enormous trunk in the center of our home, and I lean forward, clinking my glass with the only ones I can reach, my triad, before everyone takes a sip then tucks into the food with my dad’s blessing.

It tastes like home. I can almost forget the ridiculousness of the most awkward family dinner in history as I savor the meat, perfectly cooked, with June’s special touch of spices. June’s watching the Aurelians expectantly, waiting for their judgment of the cooking.

“This is incredible,” says Doman.

“Really? Don’t you all have the best cooks in the world in your palace on Colossus?” says June.

“Not quite. We’re missing your mom,” he says, and to my shock, my mom blushes a little at the praise.

“June helped, of course,” says my mom, and Doman raises his glass.

“To the cooks, and to your hospitality.”

We all drink another sip, though Oakly’s is more of a gulp. He pours himself more, then casts his ire at the triad’s half-full glasses. “Barely touched your wine. Sorry if it’s not up to your royal standards.”

Doman flicks his eyes over to him. He’s been patient, but even he has his limits. The Aurelian prince is over two feet taller than my brother, who’s always been a physical specimen. He’s not used to being utterly dwarfed, and it grates on him, the presence of the aliens a constant insult.

“It’s excellent. Would you give me the name of the vineyard?”

Oakly reaches forward to the bottle, turning it so the label faces away from Doman. “It’s Virelian. It should be drunk here.”

“Oakly…” starts my mom, aghast, embarrassed. I could have told her what was going to happen when she invited the three of the triad. The only thing I wasn’t expecting was how restrained the princes would be. Titus is the most tense, but he glances over at me and sees my pleading look and takes a deep breath in to relax himself.

“Our best wine would be cooking wine in their palace,” says Oakly, sourly, but in a quieter voice.

There’s a cold, awkward silence, broken only by the sound of chewing. Titus reaches forward, getting another helping of meat and vegetables.

“So, first impressions of Virelia?” says my dad, trying to break the awkward silence.

“A beautiful planet. With a beautiful ecosystem.”

Oakly’s hand clenches into a fist. “One invasive species could destroy it all,” he snarls, his voice slightly slurred.

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