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He was about to become the consort of the man in line for the throne of the entire Axis Empire. A man who was the Dyson of all Intergalactic Operations for the Axis. It was a powerful position and as his consort, he would have power too. It was time to reclaim that and refuse to look on this marriage as a dirty trick the universe had played on him. To admit that it might just be the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He lifted his face up for another kiss and Mikol moaned as he took his lips.
With Mikol he could have the ear of King Davos himself. And that would give him the chance to take his rightful place back on the throne of Loros. He only had to curb his impatience and keep that foremost in his mind.
Chapter Thirteen
They arrived at Mikol’s home two days later. Traveling into the capitol city of Floven was fascinating to Kalen. It was so vast and had such a strange look to his eyes, all in colors of bright gold and black, with no buildings much higher than a few stories high. Every building had plenty of green space around it, and there were many parks and grassy areas. The buildings themselves were shaped so that they grew much smaller at the top, almost rising into a point. The air was crowded with shuttle craft. Their shuttle held only the driver, along with Mikol and himself. Florin had elected to come with Dartan on the shuttle that held the wounded.
Mikol’s parents met them at the space dock on palace grounds, and Kalen could definitely see where Mikol got his good looks. He was so like his father, Prince Mikos, but there was something about his bearer—his omak, as Mikol called him—that reminded Kalen of Mikol too. Maybe it was Ryan’s close and solemn regard or his quiet dignity. He was a bit shorter than Kalen but very handsome. He embraced Mikol as they disembarked and then he turned toward Kalen with a smile of welcome.
“It’s nice to meet you, Prince Kalen. I hope you’ll be happy here on Tygeria.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s very nice to meet you too.”
Prince Mikos was next to him, greeting Mikol with fist bumping, both his fists held up high over his chest. Then he turned to Kalen, who took a quick step backward at the intensity of his fierce regard. Mikol immediately stepped up to put an arm around Kalen’s waist.
“Father, I’d like to introduce my nobyo, Prince Kalen.”
Mikos bowed to him from the waist. “Prince Kalen, welcome to your new home. I hope you’ll be happy here.”
Kalen felt himself leaning backward into Mikol, so he straightened immediately. He would show no sign of weakness or dependency in front of this man. He stiffened his resolve too and bowed back to the prince. “Thank you, Your Highness. It’s very nice to be here.”
“We have a great deal to discuss, it seems,” Mikos said, glancing pointedly down at Kalen’s sapphire robe. “Come and let’s go inside and get you settled in. I believe your omak-ahn has a dinner planned tonight in your honor.”
Kalen murmured something intended to sound polite, though inside he was full again of those butterflies he’d talked about with Mikol at the commandant’s office. He’d hoped he might have a day or so to catch his breath, but it seemed as if he was going to be plunged into this thing right away. Mikol took his arm then and drew him closer to his warm body—he had to admit it helped.
Mikol leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t be nervous. Let me do most of the talking and you follow my lead. Humans like my omak and omak-ahn can be very nosy, and I’m afraid some of that has rubbed off on my father and the king over the years. The specifics of our first meeting is no one’s business but our own.”
Kalen shuddered—because of the whisper in his ear and definitely not because of Mikol’s proximity, or the delicious way he smelled when he was so close to him like that. And maybe because he dreaded the upcoming interviews that he knew would happen despite what Mikol said. This was the bloody prince’s only son. He would definitely want “specifics” and might even demand them. All he had to offer was the truth, but why did it seem so insubstantial? So downright shady?
He nodded at Mikol’s words, but he was also trembling a little. Mikol tightened his hold on his waist, and they walked toward the palace. As they walked into the main entrance of the huge building they were calling “the palace,” painted in garish colors of gold and black and about six stories high, Prince Mikos was met by several large Tygerians, who all seemed to want to have a word with him. The prince inclined his head, nodding occasionally and kept walking forward, the other men scrambling to keep up with him. Kalen could feel the interested stares of the king’s court as their little entourage made its way through the crowded halls of the palace itself.
A few young Tygerian males called out a greeting to Mikol, who called back with a grin. They were speaking Tygerian, of course, so Kalen didn’t understand a word, but he recognized the crude gestures directed toward him. Mikol stood even taller and assumed an arrogant, insufferable stance. He called out something in rapid Tygerian that made the young males laugh. Before they’d traveled far, Kalen was red in the face and seething. How dare these people disrespect him in this way?
“Why are these men allowed to be so rude?” he asked, and Mikol bent to speak in his ear again.
“It’s tradition, and they’re not being rude. They’re simply expressing appreciation of my new nobyo. They won’t do it the next time they see you, but the more you act insulted, the worse they’ll be now.”
After that, Kalen kept his gaze firmly straight ahead as the young men called out to him, making smacking sounds and whistles and acting like they were about to grab him. He hated feeling intimidated by them, but they were all much taller and bigger than he was, and there were so many of them that it was difficult.
“I didn’t realize the palace was so public. At home, the public aren’t allowed inside.”
“These are the public areas, though we have our private quarters where the public isn’t allowed. The king allows his subjects to come inside the reception rooms on special occasions, like today. And by the way,thisis your home now.”
That jolted Kalen a little and he stiffened. “This may be one of my homes. But I’m the king of Loros, by rights. I’ll never turn my back on my people.”
“No one is asking you to. But while you live on Tygeria, I expect your allegiance to it.”
“So long as you give your allegiance to Loros when we’re on my planet.”
The corners of Mikol’s mouth turned up, and Kalen stopped talking, but he felt as if he’d made his point. He reminded himself of the real end game here—it was to one day return to Loros with the full might of the Tygerian army behind him and regain his throne. This arguing probably wasn’t the best way to accomplish that.
“Of course,carli,” Mikol said softly.
Finally, the public areas were behind them, and they stepped through a door into a cool, massive corridor that led to the family’s private chambers. They went down one hallway after another, it seemed, until Kalen was totally lost, arriving at last at a set of double doors. Prince Mikos went through them, and they all followed him inside.
This large, gracious room had to be Mikos and Ryan’s private quarters—some of the furniture was most unlike the utilitarian style of the Tygerians. There were a few pieces of the big, dark furniture the Tygerians seemed to favor, but there were also more attractive pieces—to Kalen’s eye at least. They were led over to a large sitting area, with long lounging pieces that Mikol had called “sofas.” They were plush and soft, and he sank down onto one, grateful to sit down after the long walk.
