Chapter 3
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.
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.
“Khatak!” she calls, her voice bright with pleasure. “Over here!”
Her dark brown hair is pulled back in that same neat ponytail, though a few strands have escaped to frame her face. The warm brown of her skin seems to glow under the amber courtyard lights.
My chest does something strange and wonderful. She remembered my name. She said my name. And she sounds… happy. Happy that I’m here. Happy to see me specifically.
Guilt assails me that she thinks I didn’t invite her here today just to “hang,” as the humans call it. This might be my last chance to arrange a meeting. Not at all because I’m trying to get close to her…
And just that thought leads to dangerous waters, because I realize I do want to get close to her. Despite my goals, despite my determination to achieve what needs to be done, I find myself grinning as I make my way toward her, weaving between other guests.
Sutek couldn’t remember me. The Drakoon at pumpkin carving actively mocked me. But Selene…
Focus, Khatak. Mission. Alliance. Rist.
But I’m already standing next to her, and she’s grinning widely up at me, and all my careful mental reminders about duty and obligation are scattering like leaves in the wind.
“Perfect timing!” She beams at me when I reach her side. “We’re about to start the next round.”
She gestures to the nearest barrel, and I get a better look at the krivva fruit bobbing in the clear water. Up close, they’re even more impressive—each one perfectly ripe, the spikes soft and giving, the emerald skin practically glowing.
“The rules are simple,” Selene continues. “You try to catch the fruit with just your mouth. No hands allowed. Whatever you catch in the time limit, you get to keep.”
Keep. She said keep.
I stare at the barrel, doing rapid mental math. Each krivva fruit is worth… not a fortune, but enough that you don’t just give it away. The kind of thing you buy for special occasions, or when you want to impress someone. And the hotel is using them for a game?
“They’re really good,” Selene adds, noticing my expression. “Sweet, almost like honey. Have you tried them before?”
“Once or twice,” I manage. Not adding that I’ve only ever eaten them at diplomatic functions where I was too nervous to truly enjoy anything. The kind of functions where I met Sutek, and yet didn’t leave a lasting impression.
I glance at the other participants. Most are various species I recognize—a Drakoon with impressive golden wings, several Nakar with their long tails curling around them, and beings I can’t immediately identify. Water drips from everyone’s face as they participate in the games.
I look down at my own attire—formal jacket, carefully pressed shirt. Getting wet seems unwise. But here, now, seeing everyone else equally soaked…
No one seems concerned about maintaining appearances. They’re just having fun.
And Selene is looking at me with those warm brown eyes, clearly hoping I’ll participate. Looking at me as if she’s been looking forward to this activity all day long…
“Ready?” she asks, voice breathless with excitement.
I nod, stepping up to my assigned barrel. Providing resources. Gathering. Succeeding at the most basic task.
The water is clear. The krivva fruit bob gently, their spikes catching the light.
I can do this. I will do this. I’ll catch the fruit, and impress her, and ask her…
I lean forward—
CLANG.
My horns—my pathetically small horns that my brother always mocks as “barely there”—hit the metal rim of the barrel with a resonant sound that echoes across the courtyard.
Several guests turn to look. Heat floods my face. Perfect. I can’t even approach the barrel correctly. I’m not at all doing anything impressive at this point.
I adjust my angle, tilting so my horns clear the rim. Better.
I commit this time, opening my mouth as I plunge toward the water—
Water shoots directly up my nose.
The shock makes me jerk backward, sputtering and snorting, eyes watering as I try desperately to clear my nasal passages without looking like a complete disaster. Water streams down my face, soaking into my collar, plastering my hair to my forehead.
There’s no way Selene will be impressed with me. And if she doesn’t respect me, how can I expect her to grant me an audience with Rist?
Someone to my left laughs—not cruel, just amused—but it still makes my skin burn hotter.
“You okay?” Selene’s hand touches my arm—warm and steady.
That gentle contact sends pleasant warmth through me that has nothing to do with embarrassment. Hope. It’s hope I feel. That she’s not laughing at me. That she’s actually concerned about me. That she likes me.
“Fine,” I manage, though my voice sounds strained. “Just… miscalculated the breathing part.”
“The water can be tricky,” she says, no mockery in her tone. Just genuine encouragement. “Try again. You’ve got this.”
Her hand squeezes my arm once before falling away, and I immediately miss the contact.
You’ve got this.
When was the last time someone said that to me and actually meant it?
I shake water from my hair—undignified, yes, but dignity abandoned me the moment my horns clanged against the barrel—and lean back over.
I will do this. I’ll catch her the fruit and win her affection.
This time I’m more careful. I tilt my head at the correct angle, hold my breath properly, and submerge my face slowly into the cold water.
An emerald fruit bobs within reach.
I open my mouth, trying to trap it.
It slips away.
I shift, following. Corner it against the barrel’s side. My teeth finally sink into the giving flesh beneath those soft spikes.
Got it!