Page 124 of Stripped By the Alien

The chamber has gone very still. I feel Nora's hand tighten slightly against mine, though neither of us dares to look at the other.

"I did, Your Majesty," I say. "Deliberately."

Whatever answer she expected, it doesn't seem to have been that one. For a moment she says nothing at all, and I brace myself for whatever comes next.

Then the wet, rhythmic chuckle returns, deeper this time, rolling through her enormous body in a way that sets the nutrient tubes above her swaying.

"You sabotaged your own ambition," she says, delighted in a way I haven't heard from her since the day she first met Nora. "Deliberately. To avoid a position every male in the Brood would kill for." She shakes her head, or does something with her vast bulk that approximates it. "I have watched males scheme for that seat for longcycles. I have watched them lie, poison, and murder their own brothers for a chance at it. And you built yourself a wall against it, brick by brick, the moment you realized what it would cost you."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Extraordinary." She settles back, and something in her posture eases, decades of formality softening for just a moment into something almost fond. "Perhaps it's fitting. I don't believe a Royal Mate bound heart and blood to some alien female would have served this Brood well regardless of what he intended. Some males are meant for thrones. Others are meant for something smaller and, I suspect, considerably harder to hold onto."

She turns her head, slow and deliberate, toward Morr'ak. "Strike Krix'vorr's name from consideration. Permanently. He has made the matter simple enough for all of us."

"As you command, Your Majesty," Morr'ak says, and if he's disappointed or relieved, I can't read it in his voice.

“And you, Nora the alien,” the Queen creaks. “You're not demanding tribute today?”

“I never demanded tribute, Your Majesty,” Nora says calmly. “I begged for help for my people. None was forthcoming. I will not beg again.”

“Indeed there shall be nothing given,” the Queen scoffs. “And begging a second time is unbecoming.” Her attention returns to me. "You will retain your rank, Chief Harrower. You will retain your ship — I won't insult the Beast by pretending she'd answer to anyone else after everything she's carried you both through. You disobeyed me, and you will not do so again without cost the next time. But this once, in my old age, I find myself more entertained than offended." Her mouth curls at the edges. "And you may marry your alien, with my blessing, since you seem so intent on ruining every other option available to you."

For a moment I can't speak at all. Beside me, I feel Nora let out a breath she must have been holding since we knelt.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I finally manage.

"Don't thank me yet," she says, and there's a glint in her clouded eye that tells me she isn't finished. "I intend to see this wedding myself. It's been a very long time since anything in this Nest surprised me twice in one longcycle. I think I'd like to see how it ends."

40

- Nora -

They give us three days to prepare, which apparently counts as remarkable haste by Brood standards.

Sris tells me, with the air of someone imparting a great secret, that royal weddings are usually planned across entire longcycles.

“But of course this wedding is not royal,” she finishes with a sour tone. “Not the way it should have been.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say.

"It seems I'm the only one who wanted more for Krix'vorr, but I'll get over it," she informs me, fussing over a length of waxy, cream-colored fabric she's somehow acquired for me, softer and finer than anything I've worn since I went into space. "The Queen wishes to see this before she rests. Apparently she has been saying that a great deal, lately. Resting. In any case, you will wear this. It is the color of new chitin, which is traditional for a bonding. And you will need to learn the words, though I understand your flower will help with that."

“The Kast flower is very capable,” I agree. “It can even record messages.”

“A well-known feature,” the lobster says. “But not to Krix'vorr. He never spoke much with aliens before, so had no use for the Kast. Nora, I apologize for my behavior. I tried to torture you, and that was wrong.”

“There are better ways to make friends,” I agree.

She holds the fabric up to the light. “I'm glad Krix'vorr stopped me. I will never do anything like it again, and I will persuade others that there are, indeed, better ways. I can be quite persuasive.” She holds up one claw and snaps it shut with a hard snick.

The ceremony, when it comes, is held in the Royal Chamber itself. It's the same platform, the same coiled immensity of the Queen resting above us, the same sour, ancient smell beneath everything. But today the nutrient canals have been threaded with something that glows faintly gold rather than the usual sickly luminescence, and the huge crest behind the Queen's head has been polished until it catches the light.

Krix'vorr stands beside me in ceremonial plating I've never seen him wear, dark and gleaming, his antennae oiled and upright in a way that makes him look, for the first time since I've known him, faintly nervous.

"You look terrified," I whisper.

"I have fought Gzet warships with less dread than I feel right now," he murmurs back. "There are considerably more expectations attached to this."