And in that moment, watching him react with such transparency, such genuine feeling, I realize something.
I’ve spent days dealing with alien diplomats and their blank, unreadable faces. Trying to parse meaning from neutral tones and carefully chosen words, never quite sure what they really wanted or were really thinking. Always second-guessing, always hypervigilant, waiting for that moment when they’d reveal their true, malicious intentions. Because, after abduction, it’s certainly hard to trust aliens at face value again.
When was the last time I could just trust what I was seeing? When was I last around someone who didn’t make me question every word, every gesture?
But Khatak? I can see exactly what he’s feeling. The disappointment. The embarrassment. The worry that he’s failedat something. No games, no political maneuvering, no hidden agenda.
Just him.
He’s not trying to get something out of me, or trick me into anything. He simply wants to just enjoy his time while on holiday.
And to think, the others are just outright laughing at him. Something in my chest clenches. He tried so hard! He even got dirty, something he clearly didn’t want to do, just to enjoy the activity. For them to laugh at him. To mock him.
“I tried to make a human face,” Khatak says quietly. He gestures to the features he’s carved with such care. “Humans have such smooth, flawless skin—not scales or rough hide. And their eyes...” He glances at me, then away, his skin darkening. “Large and round. They capture your gaze, draw you in. All-seeing. Beautiful.”
The room has gone quiet around us, other guests examining his pumpkin with interest. But I barely notice them.
I feel heat rise to my own cheeks. There’s something about the way he said it—not flowery or exaggerated, but simple and true. Like an artist explaining their inspiration, the thought process behind each deliberate choice.
He’s carved me. Or his impression of me. Of human features. And he’s called my eyes beautiful.
It’s one of the most genuine compliments I’ve ever received.
“It’s beautiful,” I declare, my voice carrying.
Khatak’s gaze snaps to mine. His eyes are wide, disbelieving. Did he think I’d let him stand up to bullies alone? I’ve learned that you have to stand up for yourself, else you’ll be whisked away by others with no control over your life. It’ll never happen to me, ever again, and I won’t let others lose their choices either.
I don’t look away from Khatak’s pumpkin. “Seriously. It’s my favorite one here.”
His eyes meet mine, searching. “You don’t have to?—”
“I mean it.” I hold up my own pumpkin with its crooked, happy face. “Look, we’re matching. The weird ones.”
Hope flickers in his eyes.
I should get back to the activities, or even help Elana wrap up the class.
But I can’t look away from Khatak’s warm gaze. His skin is still slightly flushed, and a goofy grin stretches his lips. His pointed teeth don’t look dangerous; they are just a part of him. Like my pumpkin, beneath the pointed teeth, there is a friendly smile.
And he’s looking at me like I’m something precious, despite being covered in pumpkin guts.
And I realize, with a little flutter in my chest, that I like the way he looks at me.
That I fancy him.
Like, really fancy him.
Damn. I think I finally understand what Elana and the other girls like about aliens.
Chapter
Three
KHATAK
“And you are?”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I’ve been standing in front of Sutek—the Sutek, Prince Rist’s closest ally and most trusted guard—for a full ten seconds, and he’s looking at me with complete blankness.
