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“My omak-ahn says there’s no use crying over spilled milk.” He shrugged at Kalen’s confused glance. “He’s human,” he said, as if that alone should account for it. “But do you understand the meaning?”
Kalen nodded.
“Good. I’m not angry, because we both were in the wrong. I recognize that. But I’ll be king one day. It wouldn’t do for some man to show up later and provide proof of a prior claim. But I have other concerns I need to speak to you about too. Please get dressed and come out when you’re ready. As I said, there’s much for us to talk about.”
After the prince left, Kalen scrambled back into his clothes, and pulled on his boots, then sat for a moment, trying to calm down. He felt jittery and he knew there probably would be many more questions coming his way. If Prince Mikol didn’t ask more, then surely King Davos and Prince Mikos would later on, if Mikol told them how they met. Anyone would want him to give a full accounting of his actions on Belline, considering Mikol was directly in line to be King of the entire Axis Empire. He would face that when he came to it, though the idea filled him with dread and, it must be said, terror. These fierce men had been the scourge of the galaxy in the not-too-distant past, sometimes spoken of only in whispers, like the scary things that were supposed to dwell in dark places.
And he was so tired and didn’t feel well at the moment. He felt out of sorts about everything. This whole situation had just complicated his already chaotic life a thousand-fold, and he had to find a way to get some control back or he’d go crazy.
He’d probably already acted like he was unstable, not wanting anyone to see him naked and putting up such a fuss about it. He was a man and a soldier, and he’d taken communal baths with his men on many occasions. All soldiers did. In training, they often had wrestling matches while they were naked. He’d never been embarrassed before. Why should he be now?
He stalked into the bathing room to splash cold water on his face. Afterward, he stood at the sink, staring into the mirror.
How had everything in his life so suddenly spiraled out of control?
The Tygerian prince hadn’t seemed inclined to letting him go back home and put things off for some time in the distant future. His fate had been sealed. He was probably now thenobyoof a Tygerian.
Kalen was pretty surenobyowas their word for spouse or mate, anyway. He had started to tell Dartan about seeing them—these spouses of the Tygerians at a conference he’d once attended with his father years ago. The royal spouses all wore long robes of some blue, flimsy material that clearly displayed the outlines of their bodies, and they were all handsome, well-built men. They were much smaller than their Tygerian mates, too, who guarded them jealously. His father had seen him looking at the men in their robes and advised him it wasn’t wise to look too long at thenobyoof a Tygerian. They might seem to be flaunting the bodies of their mates, but it was a tease and a challenge in a way—almost a dare. No one was expected to be so rude as to actually stare at thenobyosfor long. Not unless they wanted a fight.
And now he would be one of those robed men. He was well and truly trapped.
Or was he? That kind of thinking was defeatist and futile. He wouldn’t allow it and wouldn’t allow his uncle to trick him and get the better of him in such a way. Nerol thought he had the perfect plan to get rid of Kalen, and Kalen had stupidly played right into the hands of fate by knocking on Prince Mikol’s door, of all people in the universe. Fate had conspired against him, but he had done nothing but act like a spoiled, irresponsible child since his father was murdered, and that had only worked against him too.
It was time to grow up and face what he needed to do, facing it unflinchingly and doing his duty to his people. He would turn this betrothal that his uncle had intended to humiliate and entrap him to his own advantage, and he would marry this beyond handsome Tygerian prince. He would become his damnednobyo, and then he would work tirelessly to get the Tygerians to help him regain his throne and depose his hated uncle. He’d do whatever it took to convince them.
Then he would take his revenge on the ones who had betrayed and murdered his father. He wouldn’t think any further ahead than that.
Even though his brain felt foggy and all he wanted to do was lie back down, curl up and take a long nap, he could, andhe woulddo this thing and negotiate this contract to gain the Tygerians’ help. He would stop fighting Prince Mikol, and he would do whatever it took to convince this man that he would be the perfect spouse who could make him happy. He’d agree to whatever the prince wanted, damn it, and bide his time until he’d gained his confidence. Then he could get the Tygerians to help him, and he could go back home to deal with things.
Or no, better yet, he could use his marriage and status as a bargaining chip and a tool to help him achieve his goals. Later, he’d convince the prince to live separately from him, and then he could live the life he had been born to live on his home planet, as the king of the Lorian people. Mikol could be free to live any kind of life he wanted as well. And the Tygerians would remain Loros’s ally. He could do this. He had to.
Besides, he’d insist on having Dartan there on Tygeria with him until he got used to things in order to help keep him sane. To keep him from doing or saying anything stupid or anything that would tip his hand. Dartan would be Kalen’s moral support if nothing else, though the prince hadn’t seemed too happy about Dartan being around. Fuck it, it was happening anyway. He would demand it. He’d insist.
Kalen didn’t like admitting that the big Tygerian prince intimidated him a little—more than a little—so he wouldn’t. It had to be nerves. But he could do this. One more deep breath and he turned toward the door—just as it opened.
Prince Mikol was standing in the doorway, so big and so handsome and looking at him intently. Maybe even a little suspiciously. “What are you doing in here?”
“I told you I’d be out in a minute.”
“So you did. But several of those minutes of yours have passed, and you never showed up. I came to check on you, in case you were ill again.”
“Oh. Well, no, thank you, I’m fine. I just…need a minute.”
He gave Kalen that intent stare again. “Another one? We have a good many things to discuss and you’re keeping everyone waiting, Kalen.”
“All right, all right, I’m coming.” He began to follow him and stopped short. “Wait…everyone? Who else will be involved in this meeting?”
“Other than ourselves, there will be your guard, Colonel Florin, and the commandant.”
“Well, what business is it of Florin’s or the commandant’s?”
Mikol stared down at him long and hard. “I could point out that my friend has the same business as your guard, but I understand you’re nervous. I have no intention of sharing any of our personal affairs, I assure you. They do neither of us any credit. But we need a witness to the negotiations and that will be the commandant.”
Kalen bit his lip nervously, then nodded and went to sail past Prince Mikol, but he grabbed his arm as he passed and held onto it.
When Kalen drew back and looked up at him in surprise, he looked steadily back at him. “Just in case you’re feeling faint again.”
“I’m not,” he replied, trying to tug away, but Mikol ignored him, and Kalen couldn’t budge his hand. Rather than get into an undignified tug of war, he stopped struggling and took a deep breath. Kalen reminded himself of the plan he’d just made. He needed to remember it and stop fighting Mikol. It didn’t matter how much he hated this display of Tygerian dominance. He was a nobyo now and he had to remember that. Nothing mattered except getting back his throne and getting rid of his uncle.
