“That’s rather drastic, isn’t it?” Her marriage was not a charade!
“Not if he’s a pig-dog-polecat.”
“He’s not a pig-dog-polecat!”
“From what you’ve said, he seems to be.”
“I overreacted. He and I need to talk this out.” Her sister was always willing to listen, always sympathetic, but they didn’t see eye to eye. She didn’t know Jaryk the way she did. “Thanks for the ear and the bittersweet. I’m going to try to find Jaryk.”
* * * *
As Kismet left the suite, Karma blew on her fingernails and polished them on her pajama top. “My work here is done.”
Besotted, Jaryk had gazed at her twin like she owned the moon and the stars. No man had ever looked at either of them like that. The man was a keeper, and she refused to let her twin screw up a great thing.
Unfortunately, whatever she said, her twin would disagree with and do the opposite. If she’d defended him, Kismet would have been convinced marrying him had been a mistake. So, she’d dissed and criticized him. The reverse psychology had worked like a charm. It always did.
She couldn’t guess at the whole story involving Charday and Alia, but she was a great judge of character. Jaryk was a prince in character as well as title.
Falkor, on the other hand,wasa pig-dog-polecat. It was hard to believe two siblings could be such total opposites.
Chapter Fourteen
Jaryk trudged through the palace halls, weighed by weariness and trepidation. He’d hoped to talk to Kismet before now, but she’d been fast asleep when he’d gotten up yesterday morning. He’d left her to slumber, unaware he’d be gone all day and overnight. Unexpectedly, the king had dispatched him to the far ends of Kaldor to meet with a group of disgruntled nobles. Then a violent electrical storm blew in, grounding his transport and knocking out communications. Unable to contact Kismet and forced to spend the night, he feared she’d think he’d abandoned her because he’d gotten angry at her accusations.
He wasn’t angry, but even if he was, he would not subject her to the silent treatment. He would address the problem openly and honestly. One day, she would discover that about him.
The trip couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was like his father was deliberately trying to keep them apart. Divide and conquer. The king wouldn’t be that diabolical, would he?
Jaryk had barely got back in time for the gala.
There would be little opportunity to have a heart-to-heart and clear the air before the ball. Kismet was the only woman for him. The realization he’d hurt her had reinforced how much he loved her. He could kick himself for having told her of his feelings in the middle of a fight.I botched that.Would she believe him now? They didn’t have history or longevity to bolster the veracity of his declaration.
He’d lusted for Charday—he hadn’t loved her. There’d been fire, but no warmth. With his wife, he had both. He wished Charday well—as he would any old friend—but the flame had extinguished. In fact, when he’d met with her to tell her he’dgotten married, he’d found it hard to believe he’d been attracted to her at all.
Kismet was his present and his future.
After the ball, he would take Kismet away from the palace, the machinations of the king, and the distractions. Time alone together would give them space to focus on each other and their marriage. He would prove to her how much he loved her. Normally averse to requesting his mother’s intercession, he’d ask her to keep the king from intervening with another trivial public engagement.
“Good evening, Your Highness!” Lewen met him at the door. “There is no time to waste. Your valet is waiting to help you dress. You have just enough time to get ready for the ball.”
“Where is my wife?”
“Ms. Kismet has dressed and gone. She and Ms. Karma are meeting the protocol tutor to review the etiquette one last time.” The grand, formal event required specific behaviors from how to address the king and queen to how to greet the guests and where and how to stand during the announcement ceremony.
“How did she seem? In good spirits?” he asked then realized he should keep their private affairs private. “Not nervous, about the ball, I hope,” he amended.
“She was composed. And quite lovely. You are a fortunate man, Your Highness.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“May I speak freely, Your Highness?”
“Of course, Lewen.”
“Then, may I suggest you make haste and dress.”
He clapped his butler on the shoulder. “Thank goodness I have you to keep me on track. Would you please send a message to my wife and tell her I will meet her in the anterior reception area of the grand ballroom?” If he hurried, they might have time for a few words.
