Kringl (Rescued by the Alien)

Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

K ringl trudged through the snow towards the village, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He couldn't shake the image of Joy's face as he'd left the ship, concern etched on her pretty features. And had there been something else, something more? His first officer's reminders echoed in his head, banishing any fledgling hope.

“I cannot choose a non-royal human as a mate,” he told himself firmly. As future ruler of his people, his future queen must be someone who could navigate the complexities of royal life on his world, not a refugee from a frozen planet, no matter how intriguing she might be.

And yet…Kringl couldn't help but admire Joy's bravery. To risk everything by sneaking aboard an alien ship, to warn strangers of potential danger —it spoke of a courage and strength that was to be admired. He found himself dwelling on her pale hair, so different from his own and the way her skin had seemed to glow in the ship's lighting. Her skin wasn’t the vibrant blue hue of his, but this did not bother him.

Kringl tugged at the cloak’s cord around his neck. The pressure to be an ideal monarch, to live up to his father, sometimes manifested as a physical thing. The thought of being judged—of his choice of everything being judged—made him want to claw at his own throat.

Would he be able to withstand the choking pressure of the monarchy? Of course, he would be strong enough to handle the job. He would never let it break him, but didn’t he wish to do more than merely survive? Didn’t he want to live fully and experience a rich life?

The memory of Joy’s brief touch sent a shiver sliding down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He had never experienced a jolt like the one he had when she’d touched him. His skin had sizzled and, even now, phantom tingles prickled on his arm.

Kringl shook his head, banishing such thoughts. Impossible. Even if Joy felt some attraction towards him—and he had no evidence that she did—he could be nothing more than her rescuer. But that was a role he took seriously.

The desire to protect her, to save her from whatever she'd endured in this place, was so powerful it made his blood heat. How was it possible that he wanted to seek vengeance for a female he’d just met?

As he approached the village square, Kringl's warrior instincts kicked into high alert. Even the warriors accompanying him stiffened, hands drifting closer to blasters. The layout had changed since his earlier visit. The massive throne now sat beside the towering Christmas tree, and the elves were herding the human villagers into the open space. Though dressed in colorful, festive attire, the humans' faces were solemn. Cheerful music blared but there was no one singing or dancing.

Kringl's jaw clenched. This was no village—it was an open-air prison—and he was walking straight into it.

"Ah, Prince Kringl!" The sharp voice of Velsnickel rang out across the square. "Welcome to our celebration!"

Kringl forced a smile, fighting to maintain his composure as the small alien approached. "Thank you for your hospitality."

The leader pressed a goblet into Kringl's hand, then gestured toward one of several long tables. "Please, sit! Enjoy the feast!"

He hadn’t commented on the fact that only Kringl and four other Valorians had joined the celebration, although maybe he didn’t know how many crew mates remained on the ship. As far as Kringl knew, the aliens hadn’t boarded his vessel. Maybe the leader believed this was the extent of his crew. Good. The less he knew about them and their capabilities, the better.

Kringl nodded at his crew mates, and they all took seats with the humans filling in around them. The surface of the tables was crowded with elaborate dishes, the enticing aromas filling the air. Roasted meats, sweet pastries, and exotic fruits crowded the surface, yet Kringl noticed that none of the villagers seemed excited by the prospect of eating.

He recalled Joy telling him that it was the same celebration every night. Did they face this identical spread day after day? Even his favorite dish, roasted Valorian sea fowl, would become old after a while.

Gritting his teeth, Kringl lifted his glass, sniffing it carefully and detecting sweetness and spice. Should he eat or drink? Joy had not warned him that the feast itself would be dangerous, but he could not be too careful. He pretended to take a sip of the wine, but only let the liquid touch his lips, noticing that the Valorians with him were doing the same.

A crackling bonfire roared to life in the center of the square, casting dancing shadows across the gathered crowd. The elves began to sing, their high-pitched voices eerily devoid of emotion as they belted out cheerful tunes. The humans joined in reluctantly, their faces strained as they mouthed words that Kringl was certain had long since lost all meaning.

Then his attention was drawn to a commotion at the edge of the square. A sleigh was being brought forth, pulled by a team of snarling, white-furred beasts. Their eyes glowed an unnatural red, and strings of saliva hung from their bared fangs. The sleigh itself was piled high with brightly wrapped presents.

"They're never opened," a small voice muttered beside him. Kringl glanced down to see a young boy, his eyes fixed on the gift-laden sleigh. "The presents. We never get to open them."

Before Kringl could respond, the village leader scrambled onto the sleigh, his pointed hat slipping to one side. With a crack of a whip, he sent the beasts charging through the village, their howls mixing with the relentless holiday music. It was both impressive and terrifying.

Kringl accepted the food that was passed to him, taking tips from the child next to him about the best dishes to put on his plate. Food he had no intention of eating.

“Don’t try that one,” the child warned, wrinkling his nose at a bowl of something bright red. “That’s something only Velsnickel likes.”

Kringl passed on the bowl, eyeing the quivering contents. “He enjoys eating this?”

The boy lowered his voice and averted his gaze from the leader on his throne. “Snow berries are elf food, but no one likes the snow berry pudding but them.”

Kringl pushed the food around on his plate so it would appear to be eaten. Something stung his neck, and he slapped it away, startled that the ice world would have insects. The more he rubbed his stinging skin, the more a warm sensation slid from his neck down to the rest of his body

He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “Thank you for inviting us to your celebration, but we must be returning to our ship.”

The leader moved swiftly and rushed to his side, eyeing Kringl from below. "Oh, I really must insist you stay in the village tonight, my friend. We have so much more celebrating to do!"

Kringl tried to protest but was soon surrounded by grinning elves. Their unnatural eyes gleamed like slivers of ice, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. He considered fighting, but his limbs felt leaden and sluggish. He found his warriors, who also seemed to find it difficult to stand.

Curse the gods. Had they been drugged? No, he hadn’t touched the food or drunk the wine. But the sting on his neck… He put a finger to the prickling skin again, realizing too late that the sting had not come from an insect.

The world tilted sharply, and the icy ground hurtled toward him. The last thing Kringl saw before darkness claimed him was the wicked grins of the elves. The last thing he heard was the malevolent mirth of Velsnickel’s laugh.

Then, nothing.