Page 14 of Gifted to the Alien Prince

Instead, I was met by the unnerving sight of Cryostrum. He stood near the console, his grey fingers adjusting the holographic display. His eyes flicked toward me, and a meager smile formed on his lips.

“Ambassador Hartman. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I forced a polite smile. “I need to check in with the Fleet, let them know everything’s going well.”

“Of course. You’re diligent. Admirable, really. But I’m sure there’s nothing to worry them about, is there?”

The way he said it made my skin prickle. “Just a routine update. They expect it.”

His smile tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But with a curt nod, he stepped back. “Don’t let me keep you.”

I watched him glide out of the room, his footsteps silent, his presence lingering like a bad aftertaste. The door closed behind him, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Shaking off the unease, I turned to the console and activated the link. As the connection blinked to life, I gathered my thoughts.Focus on the mission. You’ve got enough to worry about without getting tangled up in Glaciarian politics.

But even as I spoke to the Fleet, my mind wandered back to Thadron’s absence, and the feeling that there were secrets on Glaciara no one was willing to share.

I DIDN'T SEE THADRONat dinner later that day or at breakfast the next.

After an afternoon spent in the archives learning about the traditions of the Starlight Song and Aurora Walks, I returned to my room, where someone left a surprise on the bed. My jaw dropped at the sight of a festive red gown. A card rested beside it. I hurried to pick it up to see who left it.

A small welcome gift for the Starlight Song Festival this evening. -Thadron P.S. The bodice stretches, so eat all the glimrin pastries you want.

I giggled at Thadron’s humor, and was touched by this unexpected gesture. I lifted the dress and held it up in the mirror. The gown appeared to be sewn to my measurements. The embroidered sleeves were long and graceful, with a train nearly reaching to the floor. Then I saw the matching red shoes on the floor by the bed. The prince thought of everything.

The dress shimmered in the light, the rich crimson fabric catching the soft glow from my room’s chandelier fixtures. I turned it in my hands, fingers tracing the intricate embroidery. It was beautiful. Elegant, yet not overdone. And the fact thathehad chosen it made my heart flutter in a way I didn't see coming.

I smiled, imagining his deadpan expression as he wrote that note about the pastries. The idea of Thadron taking the time to select a dress for me was... unexpected. He didn’t seem like the type to pay attention to details like this. Yet, here it was—a perfect fit, down to the matching shoes.

But as the warmth of the moment settled in, I remembered it had been days since I last saw him. The gesture was sweet, but did it make up for him doing a vanishing act because he supposedly didn’t like the holiday? I wasn’t sure if I should feel flattered or frustrated.

I sighed, setting the dress back on the bed. The truth was, I feltboth. Thadron’s gift showed how thoughtful he was, but his absence wasn’t making both our jobs as diplomats easier. He had walls I couldn’t seem to break through. What was truly keeping him away?

I shook off the thought, determined not to let my curiosity overload and Thadron’s absence ruin my night. I’d wear the gown and enjoy the festival. For now, all I could do was step into the shoes he’d left for me and see where the evening would take me.

My excitement about the Starlight Song festival renewed, I hopped into the shower before putting on the dress. After stylingmy hair, I walked through the palace corridors, feeling the swish of the silken lining against my legs, and hearing the gentle rustle of the dress’s outer layers. The fabric had a fine quilted layer throughout.

Now on to my third day here, I learned some shortcuts through the keep. I opened the door that would lead me outside across a walkway to the main hall. Stepping out into the frigid air, I noticed my arms and legs felt none of the chill. I wondered if that was the purpose of the dress’s quilted layers and lining. If so, Prince Thadron truly thought of everything.

I followed the sound of a soft baritone voice drifting from below the walkway. I peered over the edge, and there he was, two stories down, saddled stop a frostgrazer. His fingers curled around the reins as he rode the animal through a patch of earth and frozen grass. He didn't notice me immediately, lost in a song that seemed to resonate with the pulsing life force of the planet.

My steps locked in place as I listened. The low timbre of his voice wove through the air, a melody both haunting and beautiful. It was the kind of song that felt ancient, like it carried the weight of generations past. The small patch of land below the balcony shifted, and I found myself gazing at a muddy plain. Other things came into focus. The mud pooled in multiple hoofprints and the tread of military vehicles. Something acrid hit my nose, and I raised my eyes to see black smoke in the distance. Air vehicles were downed. A military ground transport vehicle was overturned.

Thadron kept singing and I soon heard a chorus of alarming shouts and cries for help behind his sad melody.

My heart raced at the scene. What was happening? He launched into another song, and the muddy plain became a silent forest of alien evergreen. I felt an icy breeze through my hair as it stirred the tiny icicles on the green-blue pine like needles.

I found myself unable to speak or move. But I could think. I was aware his song put me in some kind of trance. Hearing his words, even though I didn’t understand the language, opened my mind to whatever he sang about.

I looked to him.

He looked different in this moment—softer, unguarded. The perpetual lines of tension around his mouth had eased, and his eyes were warm with a quiet reverence. The frostgrazer tossed his antlers. Thadron’s hand partly disappeared in the animal’s downy fur as he absently pat the top of the animal’s head. He stopped singing, and he murmured something to the animal, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

As the song faded, so did the lonely yet peaceful forest he created. My trance gradually weakened as the evergreen trees gave way to the land below the balcony.

I took a breath, my fingers tightening on the folds of my dress. The surprise of seeing him here, after days of absence, churned in my chest.

I cleared my throat. The sound was quiet, but it was enough. Thadron turned to face me. For a heartbeat, his gaze swept over me, lingering on the red gown he had gifted. A flicker of something—pride?—crossed his face before it dissolved behind his usual stoicism.