Chapter 3

This is a joke, right? I kept the words inside my head, because looking at the aliens, either they were the best actors I’d ever seen, or they meant every word.

“No,” I said instead. “No, fuck off, fuck you, and fuck no.”

The ice-cold smile on Kharmiya’s lips didn’t move. “Isn’t that precious? I’m afraid there’s no choice here, Eden.”

Against all logic and reason, my glare didn’t cause her to burst into flames. If anything, it amused her more.

“Stop that, Kharmiya,” the alien king snapped, with a hard chopping gesture. The lady’s smile vanished behind a practiced submissive mask, and she bowed her head. After a second’s silence, he nodded and turned his attention from her to me.

It was like being hit with a ten-ton boulder of lust. There was no space for anything else, not while he looked at me, his dark eyes boring into my soul. I hung onto my anger as best I could—this asshole wanted to marry me for some prophecy, and didn’t care what I thought.

My body didn’t care what I thought, either. It melted in his gaze, and I felt the tingling heat deep in my core, spreading through me as my mind insisted on conjuring images of King Rhakaris naked. However awful he was, goddamn, he looked good enough to eat.

Had he spoken? I thought so, but not a word lodged in my mind. Thankfully, I was already blushing. I took a deep breath and tried to think. Options, that’s what I needed. Options other than where to start undressing him.

I could run. Yeah, that’ll go well. I doubt I’d make it out of the room, and there’s no way I’d get out of the castle.

Fight? That’s a joke, right? There isn’t a human on Eden I’d bet on against him.

Stand here, panicking, until he decides what to do? Fuck that.

Which left talking my way out. Shit.

“No, look, it makes no sense,” I objected, tearing my eyes from the irresistible alien king to glare at Kharmiya. “Your prophecy doesn’t take humans into account. It can’t have meant me.”

Her laugh was like ice cracking, hard and sharp and cold. “Darling, the prophecy is either a clever forgery or the hallucination of an old man high on volcanic gasses. There is no ‘true’ answer, and my interpretation is as meaningful as anyone’s.”

“The Keepers of Ancestral Memory would disagree,” the king said.

“True,” she conceded. “I’d need to bribe one to back me up. That’s fine, it’s not as though they’re expensive.”

Trying to hold back a laugh, I snorted. The king’s eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed, but she didn’t acknowledge the danger. Off to one side, Ellarax turned away, shaking with silent laughter.

“Your father would not approve of blasphemous jokes,” the king relaxed as he spoke, shaking his head. Kharmiya sighed.

“Majesty, my father would not approve of anything I do if he knew of it. The lesson he’s taught me best is how to keep my secrets from him.”

I warmed to the woman. That didn’t change the fact that she’d brought me here to use me in a scheme.

“I’m not here looking for a husband,” I said, hoping directness might get through to them. “Flattering, sure, but I have more important business. Someone—” I shot a look in Ellarax’s direction “—told the colony that the Drachali king will hear requests from anyone when he emerges from his year of mourning. My family needs your help to survive. All the humans of the colony do.”

King Rhakaris turned serious, nodding. “That is the custom. Whether a human can invoke it remains an open question. Our law is intended for subjects of the Sanguine Throne, not offworlder guests.”

I swallowed. Hope twisted me up, and I tried not to hang onto it. “We need more land, better land. The toxins in the soil are killing us, slow but sure, and you have the technology to filter them out. You can save us.”

I’m certain the speech I practiced on the way here was ten times better, but everything else slipped from my mind. They should have sent someone with training, a diplomat or lawyer or something. But no, I get stuck dealing with alien royalty and some bullshit plan to avoid a prophecy by marrying me. It’d be hilarious if this happened to the Colony administrator. Less funny when happening to me.

But the alien king looked like he took my request seriously. Leaning forward, he no longer stared at me, but past me, flexing his long, pale fingers as he thought.

“I do not want your people to starve,” Kharmiya pointed out, raising her eyes to meet mine. “But this is not a small request. It would usurp the authority of Duke Vazand over his own planet, all to aid those he considers intruders. I regret to say that it might cause my father to start a civil war, all over aliens with no standing under our laws.”

Something flashed in her eyes and Rhakaris growled.

I saw what she was hinting at and tried to find another way. Something, anything, more agreeable. Nothing came to mind.

“This marriage, it only has to be ceremonial, right?” I crossed my arms and glared from one Drachali to the other. “You’re not expecting me to... do anything?”

The king bared his teeth in a snarl. Yeah, yeah, big guy. Pretend you aren’t thinking about our wedding night all you like, I can see the way you look at me. I was no better, of course. The idea of being carried over the threshold by this monstrous alien king was impossible to ignore, and I couldn’t stop thinking about us undressing each other.

“The marriage must last a year and a day to be valid,” Kharmiya said, rushing her words out as though she had to speak before one of us did something stupid. I had to admit, she had a point. “That’s all. A year and a day as a mated pair, then you can separate without disturbing the prophecy.”

I kept my eyes on Rhakaris, whose hands gripped the arms of his chair so hard I worried he’d break the stone. He nodded jerkily, the muscles on his neck standing out like steel cables, and spoke.

“Very well. Publically, we will wed. In private, I shall expect nothing from you, and after a year and a day, you are free. In return, I will help your people heal their land.”