The Mafia Don’s Alien Princess

OPHELIA

There were three hundred and twelve doors in my father’s House.

I had opened three hundred and eleven of them.

The last was forbidden.

I lay flat on my stomach beneath the eastern wing, cheek pressed against cold stone as I worked a thin strip of metal into the narrow groove beneath the door.

The strip disappeared farther into the gap as I searched for any sign of a locking mechanism, because a door this heavily protected had to have one somewhere.

Nobody built a door this large, buried it beneath the eastern wing and forbade an entire royal family from opening it unless there was something worth hiding on the other side.

“Princess Ophelia?”

Footsteps approached from behind, giving me just enough time to hide the metal strip beneath my skirts before a pair of polished boots stopped beside me.

“Your Highness.”

I tipped my head back to find Tavian standing over me in full ceremonial uniform, his attention moving from the Forbidden Chamber to the princess sprawled across the floor in front of it. The absence of surprise on his face was mildly insulting.

“Tavian.”

“Your father is looking for you.”

“That seems unnecessary. I'm right here.”

His gaze dropped toward the hand hidden beneath my skirts. “What were you doing?”

“Investigating.”

Tavian looked at the sealed door beside me. “With what?”

“Nothing important.”

He held out his hand.

Pretending not to understand was tempting, but his expression suggested we could remain there until the ceremony began. With a sigh, I retrieved the metal strip and surrendered it.

“The Hall of Accord,” he said, tucking it away. “Now.”

“The ceremony doesn't begin for another forty-three minutes.”

“Then you have forty-three minutes to remain somewhere you're actually permitted to be.”

He stepped aside and waited, making it clear there would be no negotiating with him today.

I rose and started toward the stairs, glancing back at the massive stone door. There was no handle, visible lock or marking to explain why it had remained sealed for generations. Every question I'd asked about what lay beyond it had earned some variation of the same answer.

Nothing you need to know, Ophelia.

Which had only made me need to know more.

An alarm tore through the corridor before we reached the stairs, followed by another as Tavian's wristband flashed red.

“Eastern guard to central command. Security breach at the north landing.”

His entire demeanor changed as he touched the band. “Responding.”

Then his attention returned to me.

“Remain here, Your Highness.”

“I will.”

He stared at me for a moment too long.

“You have very little faith in me.”

“With respect, Princess, I have experience.”

Before I could decide whether to be offended, he was already running toward the stairs.

I waited until he disappeared before reaching into my hair and removing the second metal strip.

Experience worked both ways.

Back at the chamber, I crouched beside the lower seam. Previous attempts had already established that whatever sealed the door wasn't a conventional lock, but earlier something beneath the stone had reacted to the metal.

The strip slid into the groove, and I guided it upward until a faint vibration traveled into my fingertips.

I pressed harder, and warmth spread beneath my palm as a thin blue line appeared across the stone.

“Oh.”

Before I could pull away, the light branched outward and raced across the enormous door as unfamiliar symbols emerged between the glowing lines.

I leaned closer, trying to make sense of them. The script wasn't modern Veyran or anything I'd encountered in the royal archives. Whatever language covered the door was old enough that I couldn't recognize a single word.

Then one of the symbols brightened beneath my palm.

Every lesson I'd ever received about unidentified ancient technology suggested touching it would be an exceptionally poor decision.

Unfortunately, none of those lessons had been taught with this particular door in front of me.

My fingers pressed against the symbol, and a deep rumble rolled through the corridor as the stone shifted aside.

After years of being ordered to stay away, the Forbidden Chamber stood open with nothing between me and whatever my family had worked so hard to hide.

Before anyone could arrive and ruin the best thing that had happened to me all morning, I slipped through the opening.

Light awakened beneath my feet and spread across a circular chamber far larger than the space beneath this part of the palace should have allowed. Strange machinery emerged from the darkness along the walls, untouched for what looked like centuries, but none of it held my attention for long.

At the center of the room, a black sphere hovered above a narrow pedestal without any visible support or field generator.

As I approached, the charge in the air grew stronger until the fine hairs along my arms began to rise.

Then the sphere drifted toward me.

Instinct made me lean back, and it immediately became still. When I shifted sideways, the sphere followed as though it were watching me.

A smile tugged at my mouth. “You can see me.”

A low vibration rolled through the chamber in response.

Moving closer brought another faint pulse from the sphere. “Can you understand me?”

Its surface throbbed with light.

Whether that meant yes, no or stop talking was impossible to tell, but leaving had become even less appealing.

My hand rose toward it before common sense finally managed to interfere. This was ancient technology sealed inside a forbidden chamber that generations of my family had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep untouched. There was almost certainly a reason for that.

Unfortunately, curiosity had never been particularly impressed by reasons.

The instant my fingertips met the sphere, light detonated through the chamber.

The floor lurched violently as brilliant lines raced across the walls, awakening machinery that had probably been dormant for centuries. A pulse struck before I could regain my balance and hurled me backward.

My shoulder hit the stone with a painful thud, knocking the breath from my lungs.

“Ow.”

I barely had time to register the pain before symbols flooded every surface and something enormous groaned into motion beneath the floor. Another tremor rolled through the palace, and the chamber plunged into darkness.

Red emergency lights flared almost immediately, bathing everything in an ominous glow as a mechanical voice began speaking overhead. Most of the language was too ancient for me to understand, but one word repeated often enough to recognize.

War.

Whatever excitement remained drained out of me.

“Oh, no.”

A violent boom shook dust from the ceiling, and alarms erupted throughout the palace.

Getting out suddenly seemed like an excellent idea.

I pushed myself upright and hurried into the corridor, where guards were already pouring down the stairs while frantic reports broke across their communications.

“The defense grid is active!”

“Override isn't responding.”

“Royal vessels are locked in orbit.”

“The western communication array just went dark.”

“Planetary shield deployment at sixty percent.”

The mention of a planetary shield slowed me. Activating an entire planetary defense network felt slightly excessive, even by my standards.

A guard rushing past caught sight of me and stopped so abruptly that the man behind him nearly collided with his back. His face lost color as his attention traveled over my shoulder toward the open Forbidden Chamber.

Others followed his stare, and the shouting gradually faded until an entire corridor of armed royal guards had fallen silent.

Heavy footsteps descended the staircase, and the guards immediately parted to let my father through.

He descended in the ceremonial mantle he'd been preparing to address three planets in, the seven-pointed insignia of our house still fastened at his throat. His gaze swept over the soldiers and flashing emergency lights before settling on me, only to shift toward the open chamber behind me.

I considered several possible explanations and abandoned all of them.

“Ophelia.”

“Father.”

His attention returned to my face. “What did you do?”

“I... discovered the chamber isn't empty.”

Perhaps that hadn't been the best opening statement.

A tremor rolled beneath our feet, followed by the distant crash of something breaking several floors above. Father slowly closed his eyes, which was never encouraging.

A guard approached before he could respond. “Your Majesty, the defense network is identifying every off-world vessel as hostile. We have a merchant fleet approaching from Kethara, and if we can't regain control before they enter range—”

“Evacuate the orbital routes and contact Kethara through the southern relay,” Father ordered. “Nothing enters Veyran airspace until that system is disabled.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The guard hurried away, leaving me alone with the full weight of my father's attention.

“Do you remember what I told you about this chamber?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you opened it.”

“I wanted to understand why it was forbidden.”

Another alarm sounded overhead.

Father's expression remained dangerously calm. “Do you understand now?”

My gaze drifted toward the red light spilling from the chamber. “I am developing a theory.”

Father's mouth flattened while two guards nearby developed an intense interest in the opposite wall.

“Take the princess upstairs.”

The guards approached from either side, and any relief I might have felt disappeared when Father turned toward the chamber without another word.

“Am I confined?”

“For now.”

That was all I got before he disappeared through the open doorway and I was escorted upstairs.

Nearly two vels passed before Father came to my rooms.

By then, the alarms had stopped and the planetary shield was no longer preparing to attack innocent merchant vessels. Three updates from servants who knew almost nothing had done little to explain what was happening, leaving me plenty of time to consider my punishment.

Confinement seemed obvious. Losing access to the research wing was likely, and being forbidden from traveling between the Houses wouldn't surprise me either.

Father entered without his ceremonial mantle, exhaustion having replaced most of the anger I'd expected. He dismissed the guards outside and closed the door behind him.

“How bad was it?”

“Kethara has accepted our explanation. No vessels were damaged, and the defense system has been disabled.”

Relief loosened something in my chest. “Seyra.”

His expression suggested I wasn't entitled to feel particularly pleased with that outcome.

“You understand there will be consequences.”

“I assumed.”

“Confinement has failed repeatedly enough that continuing it would be an insult to both of us.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

Father regarded me for a moment before moving farther into the room. “You've spent years asking about primitive civilizations—their customs, technology, biology. The Young World in particular has occupied an unreasonable amount of your attention.”

The direction of this conversation was becoming increasingly troubling.

“You're going to Eryth.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“For thirty varas.”

“No.”

“That wasn't a question.”

“Father.”

“No attendants, no royal privileges and no Veyran technology. You will live exactly as the inhabitants of Eryth do, with only what you're given upon arrival. Perhaps that will finally cure your fascination with primitive civilizations.”

“You can't send me to the Young World.”

“I assure you, I can.”

“There are humans there.”

“Yes, Ophelia. That is generally considered one of Eryth's defining problems.”

“They're violent.”

“You nearly fired upon a Ketharan merchant fleet this morning.”

“Accidentally.”

“I'm sure they appreciate the distinction.”

There was no response I could give that wouldn't make my situation worse.

Father turned toward the door. “You've questioned for years why our people want nothing to do with Eryth. You're about to find out.”

He'd nearly reached the door when he glanced back.

“And Ophelia?”

“Father?”

“For once in your life, try not to touch anything that doesn't belong to you.”

Then he was gone.

I remained where he'd left me, trying to comprehend how one moment of curiosity had earned me thirty entire varas on the Young World.

Being surrounded by several billion humans should have terrified me. They carried diseases my people had eliminated centuries ago, still relied on combustion-powered vehicles and hadn't managed to establish a permanent settlement beyond their own moon.

But they were also fascinating.

For years, I'd known them only through archives and research material. Soon I'd be close enough to speak to them, watch how they lived and discover everything the archives couldn't show me.

The more I thought about it, the less Eryth sounded like a punishment.

My father had made a terrible mistake.