Marriage Contract with my Cursed Alien Mate

Chapter 116: Chapter 116

The room went completely silent.

Dron felt Tempest’s body tense beside him the second the words left her mouth. She had said what no one else in the room seemed brave enough to say, and though every instinct in him wanted to pull her behind him and protect her from whatever would come next, another part of him was overwhelmed with pride. Tempest had stood in front of the most powerful men on Thraqe and told them that they didn’t deserve to rule. There had been no hesitation in her voice. No sign that she cared about the danger she could be placing herself in. Dron tightened his hand against her waist, not to stop her from speaking again, but to remind her that he was still there. If anyone in that room tried to move against her, he would tear through every guard, royal, and military alpha standing between them and the door.

He watched the high royals closely, looking for even the slightest sign that one of them was about to give an order. Most of them sat still, their faces revealing nothing. Some of the older royals looked toward one another, their gilded markings glinting beneath the light as they exchanged silent glances. Prince Jaqen was the only one who didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. His expression had remained calm, but Dron could see the tension in his jaw and the way his fingers pressed harder against the arm of his chair.

Tempest had gotten under his skin.

Good.

It was exactly where Dron wanted her words to be.

"My dear Tempest, you speak with a great deal of emotion," Prince Jaqen finally said. His tone was smooth, but Dron could hear the warning underneath it. "I understand that what you witnessed was upsetting, but you have not been here long enough to understand the complexities of the class system or the decisions that must be made to maintain order."

Dron felt Tempest shift forward, but he caught hold of her before she could take another step. He knew she had more to say. He could practically feel the anger radiating from her body, but he also knew Prince Jaqen was waiting for her to lose control. If Tempest became too emotional, the royals would dismiss everything she had said. They would make her seem irrational. Make it seem as if she were nothing more than a confused human who didn’t understand their world.

Dron had seen that tactic before.

He had lived through it.

Every time he had tried to defend himself, they made him seem unstable. Every time he tried to speak about the way he had been treated, they said he was exaggerating. If he became angry, they used that anger as proof that he was exactly what everyone claimed him to be.

Not this time.

Dron looked down at Tempest, and though she still looked ready to argue, something in her expression changed when their eyes met. She didn’t have to ask what he wanted. She simply trusted him and slowly stepped back.

That trust settled something deep inside of him.

For most of his life, Dron had been told that he wasn’t fit to lead. He wasn’t fit to mate. He wasn’t fit to stand in the same spaces as those who believed themselves better than him. Yet there he was with more than a hundred people standing behind him and the woman he loved trusting him to speak for them all.

Dron released Tempest and stepped forward.

He didn’t know what he was going to say.

There was no carefully prepared statement. No list of points Gerax had created for him to follow. All he had were the memories of the poor class. The hunger in the children’s faces. The state of Aixen’s home. The way the crippled alpha had dragged himself across the floor because there was no one willing to give him the help he needed. Most of all, Dron remembered Pinat. The small child had been grateful for something as simple as food and a safe place to sleep. She had looked at Tempest as if she were a miracle sent from the skies, and now she was dead.

Dron lifted his chin.

"Tempest understands more than you think."

His voice carried across the chamber, and though he could feel several people behind him moving, no one spoke.

"She may not understand every rule you have put in place, but she understands suffering. She understands when someone is being treated unfairly, and unlike most people in this room, she doesn’t need a title or permission to do something about it."

Prince Jaqen leaned back in his chair. "And you believe you understand the class system better than the high royals?"

"No," Dron answered honestly. "I believe I understand what happens to the people who are forgotten by it."

A few murmurs moved through the crowd behind him.

Dron glanced back for a moment. He saw members of the military class standing beside scholars and workers from the upper class. Some of them looked uncertain, but others nodded slightly as if they agreed with him. That gave him enough courage to continue.

"I have spent most of my life believing that there was something wrong with me because of how I looked and my parentage. When I was younger and the people in my community attacked me, no one stepped in to help. When I was beaten and chased through the woods, no one came looking for me. When I was mistreated in the military service, I told myself that was simply the way our world worked. The strong survived and the weak were forgotten."

His chest tightened as he said the words aloud. He had never spoken about those moments in front of anyone besides Tempest. Even then, he hadn’t told her everything. He didn’t like thinking about how helpless he had been. He didn’t like remembering that there had been a time when he screamed for help and no one answered.

Dron looked toward the high royals.

"For years, I thought my mistake was expecting people to care. I believed if no one helped me, then perhaps I wasn’t worth helping."

Tempest made a small sound behind him.

Dron didn’t turn around.

If he looked at her, he might lose the control he was desperately holding on to.

"Then I met Tempest. She came to this world knowing nothing about our customs, our classes, or the way we have decided some lives are worth more than others. She didn’t look at me and see the curse everyone warned her about. She saw a person. When she learned how the poor class lived, she didn’t ask what they had done to deserve it. She didn’t ask if helping them would benefit her. She simply said that something had to be done."

Dron let his gaze move through the room.

"Gerax helped. Mexyn helped. Others helped once they learned what was happening. That tells me compassion is not gone from Thraqe. It has simply been buried beneath lies and distance. The people in the higher classes don’t know what is happening because no one wants them to know. We are taught not to visit the poor class. Taught that the people there are dangerous, lazy, and unwilling to improve their lives. What I saw was a class filled with people who had no way to improve anything because every resource had been taken from them."

One of the high royals shifted in his seat, but Dron didn’t stop.

"There was no Life Nectar. There were no trained healers. There was barely any food. The land was dry, the homes were collapsing, and the people were dying in the streets. Aixen lost his legs while trying to join the military class. Instead of being healed, he was sent home and left to drag himself across the floor for years. His children went out searching for food in dangerous lands because no one else would feed them."

The image of Pinat returning home came back to him. Her excitement. Her trust.

Dron’s hands tightened at his sides.

"We gave Aixen a chair. We repaired his home. We gave his children food. Those were simple things. Nothing compared to the technology and excess available in this chamber. Yet to them it was life changing."

He paused, allowing the truth of that to settle over the people listening.

"Then their home was attacked. The poor class was set on fire, and men came to kill Tempest and me. They told us they would blame the destruction on me. They planned to call me an arsonist and use my reputation to make the lie believable."

A louder murmur rushed through the crowd.

Prince Jaqen raised one hand, and the room slowly quieted.

Dron looked directly at him.

"Aixen and his daughter died in that fire. He covered her body with his own, protecting her until the end. They didn’t die because of something they had done. They died because they trusted us. They died because someone wanted the poor class to understand what would happen if they began to hope for something better."

Dron’s voice roughened, but he refused to let it break.

"I am not standing here asking you to pity me. I am not asking you to restore my reputation or tell the people of Thraqe that I am not cursed. I no longer care what anyone chooses to call me."

He glanced toward Tempest.

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she was smiling at him.

Dron felt his shoulders straighten.

"I am asking for justice for people who have never had the power to ask for it themselves. I am asking the high royals to prove that the poor class is still considered part of Thraqe. Find out who started the fire. Find out who sent the men to attack us. Give the survivors food, shelter, and healers. Not because Tempest has asked you to. Not because more than a hundred witnesses are standing in this room. Do it because it is what leaders are supposed to do."

The final words echoed around the chamber.

For a moment, Dron heard nothing.

Then someone behind him began to hoot in approval.

The sound was hesitant at first, as if the person wasn’t sure whether it was safe. Another person joined them, then another. Within seconds, the chamber filled with raucous hoots and cheers.

Dron stood still.

He wasn’t used to people encouraging him.

He wasn’t used to anyone looking at him with respect.

He turned slightly and saw Gerax nodding in his direction. Mexyn stood beside him with her arms crossed, but there was a proud smile on her face. Tempest looked as if she might rush forward and throw herself into his arms.

Something warm spread through Dron’s chest.

Pride.

Not the kind of pride he felt after winning a fight or proving that he was stronger than another alpha. This felt different. He had stood in front of the most powerful men on the planet and said everything that needed to be said. He hadn’t lost control. He hadn’t allowed them to turn the conversation against him. For once, people heard his words instead of only seeing his scars.

Prince Jaqen stood, and the noise slowly faded.

"Alpha Dron, your words have given us much to consider. I believe I speak for every member of the council when I say that I am impressed by the strength and leadership you have shown today."

Dron didn’t trust the compliment.

Still, he shrugged once.

Another royal rose from his seat. "The conditions you have described are unacceptable. We assure everyone present that this matter will be investigated fully."

"We will not allow an attack against one of our classes to go unanswered," another added. "Those responsible will be found."

The people behind Dron began whispering with relief. Some thanked the royals while others spoke excitedly about what would happen next. Dron wanted to believe they had accomplished something, but there was a strange feeling in the center of his chest that wouldn’t go away.

The royals had agreed too easily.

They hadn’t questioned any of the details. Hadn’t asked for proof. Hadn’t shown any surprise when Dron spoke about the attack or the men who planned to frame him.

It almost seemed as if they already knew.

Dron pushed the thought aside when Tempest reached for his hand.

"You were amazing," she whispered.

Dron looked down at her. "I only told them what happened."

"No." Tempest shook her head. "You made them listen."

Before Dron could answer, the attendants began guiding everyone toward the large doors. People stopped Dron as they passed, offering words of support. Each gesture felt strange, but not unpleasant. For the first time, Dron didn’t feel like an unwanted stain among the people of Thraqe.

He felt like someone they might follow.

He and Tempest were nearly at the doors when two royal guards stepped in front of them.

"Alpha Dron. Lady Tempest. The high royals would like you to remain for a few additional questions."

Gerax immediately moved closer. "I was there as well. I can answer any scientific questions you may have."

"The request was only for Dron and Tempest," the guard replied.

The uneasy feeling in Dron’s chest grew stronger.

He looked toward Gerax. The scientist’s expression said that he didn’t trust the request either.

Tempest squeezed Dron’s hand.

"We’ll be fine," she whispered.

Dron wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

The guards led them away from the main chamber and down several narrow corridors. The farther they walked, the quieter it became. There were no attendants. No other citizens. Only Dron, Tempest, and the guards.

Dron kept Tempest close to his side.

If this was an attack, he would have very little room to fight. The corridor was too narrow, and he didn’t know how many guards could be waiting beyond the doors ahead. He could feel his alpha instincts rising, demanding that he turn around and take Tempest out of the mansion before anyone had a chance to stop them.

The guards finally stopped in front of a large gold door.

One of them opened it.

Prince Jaqen stood inside with six royal guards lining the walls.

Dron knew instantly that this wasn’t a simple conversation.

He entered first, keeping his body between Tempest and the guards.

Prince Jaqen smiled.

"Dron. Tempest. Thank you for joining me."

"We were told the high royals had more questions," Dron replied.

"And we do." Jaqen gestured toward the center of the room, but neither Dron nor Tempest moved. "Your speech was quite impressive. I had no idea you possessed such natural leadership."

Dron stared at him.

He didn’t like the way the prince was looking at him. It was the same calculating stare Jaqen had used in the arena, as if Dron were nothing more than another piece on a game board.

"You know the poor class," Jaqen continued. "You were present during the attack. You understand military strategy, and you have already gained the trust of the people who are concerned about what happened."

Tempest shifted beside him.

Dron felt the trap closing around them, though he still couldn’t see exactly what it was.

Prince Jaqen’s smile widened.

"The council believes someone with your experience and determination is exactly what we need to lead the investigation into the destruction of the poor class."

Dron blinked.

"Lead the investigation?"

"Yes." Jaqen clasped his hands behind his back. "You will be given a small team and every resource necessary to uncover the truth."

"I’m no longer serving active assignments."

"That has been corrected."

Dron’s stomach dropped.

Prince Jaqen took a slow step closer.

"Effective immediately, you are being redeployed."

The room seemed to shift around Dron.

He looked toward the guards and then back at Prince Jaqen. The royal had never intended to ignore what happened. He had simply been waiting for the right way to use it.

Dron had walked into the chamber believing he could force the royals to act.

Instead, he had shown them that people would listen to him. He had admitted how deeply he cared about the poor class. He had given them every reason they needed to place him directly in the center of whatever they were planning.

Dron tightened his hold on Tempest’s hand.

For the first time since he stood to speak, the pride inside of him vanished.

He might have just made a terrible mistake.