“You’ve been discussing me with Mother?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then how do you know what she thinks?”
His brother shrugged. “I can tell. The point is, Father is more bark than bite. He shouts and threatens, but then the storm blows over.”
“You would know.” He used to think their father overreacted to Falkor’s shenanigans, but he’d revised his opinion.
“You claim to love Charday, but you’re not willing to fight for her. If you marry Kismet, at the end of a year, you’ll be free to marry Charday.”
“Father will never agree.”
“By then, hemight. But rather than take the chance, you’d prefer to roll over and marry Alia and be miserable for the rest of your life. You will be king someday. How are you going to stand up for our people if you won’t stand up for yourself?”
Before Jaryk could react, Falkor beat a hasty retreat.
* * * *
Jaryk poised outside the human’s suite, his brother’s vile accusation ringing in his ears. If Falkor hadn’t left when he did, he might have knocked his head off.
A king couldn’t indulge his whims; he had to put his people first. A king sacrificed for the good of the realm, or there would be no kingdom left to rule. He believed Charday would make a fine queen, but his father disagreed, and there was nothing Jaryk could do about that—nothing reasonable, anyway. All his life, he’d been forced to suppress his desires and do the responsible thing. His entire life had been one test after another to prove his fitness to be king.
His brother got to play, indulge his whims, defy authority, and create a wake of chaos, leaving others to clean up his messes. He’d been dubbed the Prince of Scandal.
Jarykstood for duty and responsibility; Falkor avoided both.
He dreaded telling the human woman she’d been duped and had to go home. This would have to be a crushing disappointment to her. Afterward, he might hunt Falkor down and deliver the comeuppance his asshole brother deserved.Stand up for yourself.By acting like Falkor? That was no solution!
Taking a deep breath, he rang the chime. He’d never met a human before. He’d heard about them but had never seen one. Which made it all the crazier his brother had chosen an Earther.
Several seconds later, the door opened.
She is not unattractive,he thought, surprised by his reaction. Her light-brown hair, while nondescript in color andseverely styled, gleamed under the lights. Rather than pointed, her ears were curved, and the lobes were pierced with small studs. She had large thick-lashed brown eyes, spaced with perfect symmetry in an exotic oval face.
An understated, elegant black belted tunic and form-fitting leggings showed off a slender figure with curves in all the right places.
Brown eyes widened, and pink lips parted. “Jar-Your Highness!” she pressed a slender hand to her throat.
“May I speak with you?”
“Come in.” She stepped aside so he could enter.
An identical woman rose from the sofa.Is she Kismet?He silently cursed his brother who’d failed to mention there were two women. His gaze shifted between them, and he realized they weren’t the same at all.
Both humans shared the same facial features, height, and build, but this one was flamboyant, almost gaudy. She wore an ankle-skimming dress in rainbow colors, a billowy off-the-shoulder blouse, a multitude of arm bangles, and nearly as many rings—more, if you counted the ones on her toes, left bare by flat, ugly sandals. Unruly hair, perhaps indicative of her nature, fell over one shoulder.Shelooked like the sort who would eagerly abet his brother’s mischief, exactly the sort who would appeal to his irresponsible, impulsive nature.
Shewas obviously Kismet.
“This is my sister, Karma,” said the pretty woman who’d opened the door.
“Greetings to you,” he said, a little dismayed to discover the flashy one was not the woman Falkor had chosen for him. It would be easier to reject her. She was so obviously inappropriate.
He turned to Kismet. “May we speak privately?”
Karma started to say something, but Kismet cut her off. “Yes.”
“Perhaps we could take a walk?” he suggested.
