I’ve seen Sutek shadow the Prince at half a dozen diplomatic functions. After his horns were severed in that coup attempt, after he was publicly outed as the Prince’s assassin and stripped of his rank, those of us who actually admired him—who saw what he’d sacrificed for Rist—thought no less of him for it. If anything, his loyalty made him more worthy of respect.
And he has absolutely no idea who I am.
“Khatak,” I manage, keeping my voice low. “I need to speak with Prince Rist privately. It’s… urgent.”
Can’t mention the alliance. Can’t give away why I’m really here. My family sent me on this mission in secret—their last-ditch effort to secure favorable terms with Rist’s faction before my father’s political rivals do the same. If I succeed, I can finally prove my worth.
I shake my head. The cost of failure is too high, much higher than my own reputation this time. I have to do this. Too many people are relying on me.
The family disappointment cannot fail this time.
Sutek’s expression doesn’t change. No flicker of recognition at all. Just blank, professional courtesy as he pulls out a datapad.
“Right.” He taps something on the screen without even looking up. “I’ll pass your request along to Rist.”
That’s it. Not “I’ll see what his schedule looks like” or “let me check his availability.” Just the polite brush-off one gives to forgettable strangers.
The worst part? I’m not even surprised.
My brother Valkor wouldn’t need to ask twice. Sutek would probably remember him from a single glance. Valkor has that presence—that commanding warrior energy that makes people take notice. When my brother walks into a room, people remember.
Me? I’m invisible. Always have been.
It’s why my father sent me instead of my brother: to be discreet about this whole operation.
“Thank you,” I tell Sutek, even though he’s already turning away, his attention shifting to scan the courtyard beyond me—ever the vigilant protector.
I step past him, trying to shake off that familiar sting.
He’s not going to arrange a meeting with the Prince. I’ll have to find another way to get the meeting… which means the human female Selene is my only hope.
Only, I never got the chance to ask her for help yesterday. I got distracted… and then I got too nervous to bring up the topic again.
I have to ask her today, then. Take the risk. If I can pull this off—if I can accomplish what my family couldn’t through official channels.
Maybe I’ll finally be someone worth remembering.
Someone who isn’t the family disappointment.
But I can’t do anything until I’ve achieved at least some respect.
The courtyard is decorated for this human celebration. Orange and black fabric hangs from the covered walkways. Those same strange hollow shapes I saw in the lobby—“ghosts,” Selene called them—dangle from strategic points. Autumn-colored lights are strung overhead, casting everything in warm amber tones that make the space feel almost magical.
And in the center of the courtyard, several large barrels filled with water. Floating in each barrel are… I stop walking, recognition hitting me.
Krivva fruit.
Dozens of them bob on the water’s surface, their distinctive emerald green skin dotted with those soft, flexible spikes that make them unmistakable. I’ve seen these at market stalls in the better districts back home—expensive enough that my family never bought them for casual consumption, and only ever offered them when we had important guests, their vibrant color and exotic appearance drawing gratitude. Their flavor makes them worth the import fees.
Several aliens are already gathered around the barrels, carrying buckets. Excitement is clearly evident in flapping wings, wagging tails, and a few waving tentacles.
This is the human activity Selene mentioned? With krivva fruit?
I’m scanning the crowd when movement catches my eye.
She’s waving at me.
Not a polite, professional acknowledgment. An enthusiastic, genuine wave. Add in the kind of smile that lights up her whole face and I can almost believe she’s looking for me.
