At least it’s only for a year. It’s not a lifetime commitment.
But that didn’t feel good either.
“There is a ball at the palace soon,” Jaryk said. “We will be required to attend.”
“Oh, okay.” She was intimidated, imagining a grand, formal affair steeped in unfamiliar tradition and etiquette. Not only would she not know how to behave, her clothing wouldbe inadequate. She fingered the skirt of her wedding dress. The nicest garment she owned, it was far from formal. Not appropriate for a fancy ball.
Would there be dancing? Of course, there would—it was aball. She doubted the Kaldorans waltzed or rhumbaed; she wouldn’t know any of the dance moves.
“The ball was intended to announce my engagement to Alia, but now my parents will announce our marriage.”
Oh, my god. Can it get any worse?She rubbed her temple.
“Are you all right?”
Just a little terrified.“This is a bitmorethan I anticipated. I won’t know how to act. What’s appropriate, what’s not. I won’t know anybody.”
“I understand how you feel.”
She doubted he did. He’d been born into this.
“Since you’re new to Kaldor and the royal lifestyle, you’ll be tutored in expectations and etiquette. I’m sure the ball will be addressed. I promise you won’t be alone at the event. I’ll be by your side the whole time. Falkor will be there, too. You won’t have to do much except greet people and make small talk.”
An introvert’s nightmare.
“I don’t have the right clothes…” She grasped at straws, trying to get out of this.
“Not a problem. Lewen will have the palace tailors take care of it.”
“Great.” She fake-smiled.What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Eight
Hands behind his head, Jaryk lay staring at the stars, discontent and guilt gnawing at his brain. He felt like he hadn’t been fair to Kismet, like he’d asked too much of her. She’d married him willingly—he hadn’t forced her; she could have gone home. But what would she get out of the arrangement?
Nothing.
Even the wedding had ended on a sour note with his father storming in. The king could be quite frightening if one wasn’t used to his bellicose ways—sometimes even if youwereused to his blustery aggression.
Perhaps it would have been better if the kinghadprevented the wedding.
Better for Kismet.
Except, Jaryk liked her and enjoyed her congenial company and exotic beauty. Funny because he didn’t consider Karma nearly as attractive even though they looked alike. He could stare at Kismet all day—and had to be careful he didn’t.
As long as he looked and didn’t touch, that would be okay, wouldn’t it?
His duties put him into contact with many people, many of them beautiful women. Alia was quite comely—but objectively acknowledging her physical attributes had never made him feel disloyal to Charday.
His fake marriage, on the other hand, stirred niggling guilt even though he was doing this forher. She’d insisted on a temporary separation, so he could “think about what was important,” expecting him to come running with an offer of marriage. She would not have foreseen him marrying someone else.
However, the harebrained scheme of Falkor’s might offer their only chance to be together. Judging from the king’s reaction, it might work. His father might decide he preferred Charday to a human and relent. Which aroused more guilt because Kismet was a wonderful person. Her being human didn’t matter. She didn’t deserve to be used.
But what really disturbed him?
The kiss. Brief. Perfunctory. Way too enjoyable.
If he were honest with himself, he would admit maybe he’d jumped at the chance to kiss her. And almost followed up with another. He’d relived memories of the kiss throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening, during the tour of his suite—especially when he’d shown her the sleeping arrangements—and then through dinner.
