She understood now more than ever why he wouldn’t do anything to betray Jorg or the Kingdom. He was still their man. Not hers.
It was for the best, she told herself. It would have been all that much harder to let him go if they had done anything. It was already hard enough because the one kiss they’d shared had held so much promise. And he held so much promise.
“Princess Nalini,” came Jorg’s formal voice from behind her.
Nalini jerked her hand down, realizing she’d been touching her breast, and turned to face him.
Jorg was dressed formally in a rich blue quasi-military uniform with a white fur cloak clasped to his shoulders. His straight, dark-brown hair hung to his shoulders, tidily combed, and his jaw was freshly shaven. His face was masked and hard to read.
Two of his bodyguards stood behind him while two others were walking around the room, inspecting nooks and eyeing people sitting at tables around the coffee cart. The men shooed a group to another table, then waved the robot barista over to wipe down the surface of theirs, presumably for their master’s use.
“Prince Jorg,” Nalini returned the formal greeting, then made herself say, “It is good of you to make time so we can meet privately before the ball.”
“Yes.” Jorg’s expression changed little as he extended a hand toward the table. “Sit with me.”
Nalini bristled inside, for it was clearly an order from a man who presumed everyone he spoke to would obey him, but she thought of her father’s wishes for this marriage and alliance, and withheld the sharp words that came to her tongue. At least for now. Though she suspected she would have to inform Jorg eventually—before they were married—that she was used to being in a position of power herself, and that she would not obediently do whatever he asked.
There were four chairs, so she could have chosen one next to him, but she opted to perch on the edge of one across from him. He didn’t comment, merely waving for one of his men to fetch two drinks, without asking what she preferred.
Jorg folded his hands and rested them on the table as he gazed—stared—into her eyes too long for comfort. “My sister informs me that you, as a businesswoman, are likely to prize a straightforward negotiation of contract rather than flowers, wooing, and statements about your beauty.” His left eyebrow twitched. “Is that true?”
“A straightforward negotiation is fine.”
It actually was what she preferred, though now that she’d lain nearly naked and side by side in a cage with Tristan as they tried to magnetically retrieve his weapon, she considered that the most intriguing way she’d started a relationship with a man.
“Good. I’m poor at wooing.” Jorg smiled quickly, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and she pegged it as insincere. “I also have some questions for you before we publicly announce this betrothal at your father’s little ball.”
Little ball? Was he trying to be condescending or did he not realize he was doing it?
“Go ahead,” she said neutrally.
“I’m going to be frank. My father chose you for me based on your father’s wealth and influence. There’s nothing actually royal or noble about your family’s bloodlines—all of the Miners’ Union ruling families made their money within the last two centuries and then declared themselves royalty based on who was more ruthless in acquiring territory.” Jorg sniffed disdainfully. “I had expected my father to arrange a wedding for me with Queen Konstantina or Princess Ying Yue, but he believes the Miners’ Union families hold more power than the rulers in any of the existing kingdoms or empires.”
Nalini sat back in her chair as the words sank in. He didn’t want to marry her? He didn’t think her blood was good enough?
She was so used to being respected because of who her father was and because she’d proven herself in her industry that it hadn’t occurred to her that Jorg might find her a disappointing match.
“You would have been a better match for my younger brother Finn, in my opinion, but what are we going to do? Our fathers are the ones with the true power, and it’s our duty to do what they believe is best for our people.” Jorg issued another smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
The robot server brought two steaming mugs of black coffee over, saving Nalini from having to come up with a political response. Not that Jorg seemed to care if she gave one—or if she spoke at all. As soon as he picked up the mug, he continued on.
“In the Kingdom, marriages are between a man and a woman and ideally forever, especially among the nobility. It’s important for us to maintain standards and cultural ideals. I understand that out here among the asteroids, you all do whatever you want with whomever you want—dear God, your father and his half-dozen wives will give our people moral conniption fits—but such is not the way of the Kingdom. You will need to be monogamous and faithful.” He narrowed his eyes and pinned her with his gaze as he took a sip from his mug.
Something about that squint made her suspect he believed that she and Tristan were having a relationship.
“And will you be monogamous and faithful?” she asked.
He spat out his coffee halfway through her question, spraying it on the table and rearing back with a snarl toward the coffee cart. “This is boiling hot, you idiot robot. Bring me some ice.” He clanked the mug down, spilling more on the table. “And come clean up this mess.”
The robot rolled over to obey without comment.
“We like our coffee hot out here among the asteroids,” Nalini murmured.
“No doubt because you’ve already scorched off any nerve endings in your tongue.” He gave her an exasperated look as the robot dropped ice cubes in his mug and toweled off the mess. After it left, he composed his face back into the aloof mask.
Nalini thought of how Tristan had been unwilling to speak poorly of the prince and thought she might ask him again what he was really like. If this was Jorg trying to be civil for the sake of first impressions, she doubted she wanted to see him truly lose his temper.
“What was I saying?” he asked.
“You were about to answer if you would also be monogamous and faithful to me.”
“Of course. As I said, it is our way. If my father has sexual relations with women other than my mother, I’m not aware of it.”
Nalini wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, since it hadn’t been a proclamation of certainty that King Jager was faithful. Did it simply mean that one had to be discreet?
Not that she could discreetly have a relationship with Tristan on the side even if he would be willing to sleep with a married woman—she doubted he would. He would be off doing a knight’s duties, if he got what he wished, and she would be busy building the largest space habitat in the Twelve Systems with this man who was disappointed in her blood and in her. Likely, she wouldn’t end up having much sex with anyone.
In the last few years, she’d rarely had relationships and hadn’t cared to make the time for them, but she’d always had the choice. The thought of being in some isolated prison of a marriage without love was depressing. She would still have her career, but would that be enough?
“As I already told your father, your current bodyguard is unacceptable—” Jorg sneered, as if his own father hadn’t placed Tristan in the position, “—and he’s agreed that you’ll be protected by androids from now on while you’re here. Once we’re married, you’ll share my bodyguards. They are exquisitely trained and known for their professionalism.”
Nalini glanced at the stone-faced men—they hadn’t reacted to Jorg’s outburst with the coffee, and they didn’t react now. They might as well have been androids themselves.
“When my father passes one day,” Jorg said, “you’ll be considered queen consort, as my mother Iku is. You will have no power to rule over the Kingdom, but you may pursue your real-estate career and continue to acquire and improve land, so long as you don’t require the Kingdom’s funds for it.”
“So generous of you.” Nalini had no interest in ruling the backwards Kingdom, and she didn’t want
any of its money, but the idea that he was clearly laying out that she would get nothing from him or his government was insulting. Did he think she needed his money?
Ignoring or misreading her sarcasm, he continued with, “Queen Iku does diplomatic work on my father’s behalf. Perhaps one day, you’ll be moved to fill a similar role.”
Perhaps one day, she would not.
A message popped up on her chip. Your Highness? It was Security Chief Namjoo. Your bodyguard is here at the security headquarters, saying he wants to research the guest list for the ball and the names and crews of the visitor ships that have been coming in. He suspects Prince Dubashi or someone else may try to kidnap you again or otherwise interfere with your betrothal. I’m inclined to agree with him, and we’ve been doing similar research ourselves, but I wanted to make sure he was here with your permission.
Yes, Nalini replied. I trust him.
I see. Very well.
Was there judgment in Namjoo’s words? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so prompt with her response. She was getting the feeling that the gossip that she and Tristan had shared a shuttle alone together for several days had gotten all around the palace. That wouldn’t have been gossip-worthy, she was positive, if one of her sisters had spent private time with a bodyguard, but maybe because she didn’t have such a history, it was more noteworthy. Or maybe it was because she was about to become engaged to Jorg.
I will give him access to the files. Namjoo, out.
Nalini was tempted to send Tristan a message to see if he’d found anything interesting yet—and to let him know what a sow’s hind teat his prince was being—but Jorg snapped his fingers.
“Are you listening to me?” he demanded.
“No.”
His eyebrows flew upward.
She was tempted to leave it at that but diplomacy compelled her to add, “The palace security chief sent me a message that distracted me. My apologies.”
“Is there anything to be concerned with? If you feel threatened here, you are welcome to stay aboard my ship. I have many well-trained military officers among my crew, as well as my bodyguards.” He waved at his stolid men again.
“Wouldn’t there be gossip and disapproval from your proper people if I was sleeping on your ship before our marriage?” As if she would ever choose a guest cabin in his ship over staying in her own suite.
“My people know their monarchs are honorable. They would wish you protected, which you would be aboard my ship. And we could get to know each other better.” He gave that quick smile—this time it had a predatory aspect to it—and let his gaze dip to her chest. And linger.
Honorable, right.
Nalini kept her response to a tightening of her fingers around her coffee mug. Her chest had been leered at often enough, everywhere from space-station corridors to business meetings with wealthy and influential colleagues, that it didn’t faze her that much. But it irked her that Jorg had informed her she was his third choice—if that—for a marriage partner and that he would gladly foist her off on his little brother, yet he wanted to have sex with her. Right away, apparently.
“There’s nothing to be concerned with at this time,” Nalini said. “They’re merely putting precautions into place since so many guests from all over the system attend the palace balls. Sometimes, diplomats and Miners’ Union scions from other systems attend.”
“Yes, I gather it will be quite the circus, in which we’ll be the preeminent performers, with all manner of media cameras on us. Oh well, I’m accustomed to such.” He flicked a dismissive hand. “You may go, Princess. I believe we understand each other.”
She managed to keep her snort inward, positive the only thing he cared about was that she understood him.
“Perfectly,” she made herself say and left quickly with Devi.
“I do not like him for you, Nalini,” Devi said as they walked toward the exit. “I am trained to read body language, and I found him to be insincere bordering on deceitful.”
“I know, Devi. I got that too.” Nalini glanced back at the table as they walked out and caught Jorg watching her ass.
He didn’t bother to look away and pretend to be ashamed at being caught in such an open appraisal. He merely gave her that predatory smile again. It made Nalini uneasy, and she had the sense that she might be signing up to marry a pervert—at the least, she was positive he had a temper and maybe a cruel streak—not simply someone who would be indifferent to her.
“What will you do?” Devi asked. “Will you tell your father that you won’t marry him?”
She sighed and thought of everything that was at stake, not simply what her father wanted but a safe future for the millions of Union citizens who lived under their family’s rule. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You’d better figure out for sure soon. The ball is in just three hours.”
The ball and the betrothal.
Nalini tried to push the memory of Jorg leering at her out of her mind and reminded herself that she could better protect her family and her father’s people by becoming the prince’s consort. And the future queen consort.
She just wished she didn’t feel like she was walking to the gallows.
18
Tristan gripped his chin as he stared at the faces and identification information scrolling slowly down the display.
After less than an hour of this, he had a headache and was lamenting, for the five thousandth time in his life, how painstakingly slowly he read. He’d started with the computer reading the files aloud to him, but there were six men and women in the security control center with him, and they’d kept glancing back at him. He wasn’t sure if they were suspicious of his reasons for being here—the security chief had checked in with Nalini to see if he should be allowed access—or annoyed at the noise of the computer reading, but he’d silenced it so they wouldn’t feel the urge to kick him out.
It was possible that nothing would happen at the ball and that Nalini was safe, but Tristan wouldn’t bet her life on that. Prince Dubashi, or someone else who didn’t want the marriage to occur, might feel this ball was the last chance to do something to stop it. After Nalini and Jorg were officially betrothed, Nalini might be moved to planet Odin deep within Kingdom territory, where entire fleets of military spaceships were on guard around the clock. If that happened, she would be a much more difficult target to reach.
A familiar name appeared on the display, and he paused the scroll. The name was familiar but the face wasn’t.
“Chief Operations Officer Hassani from the Morning Star Development Company on Oceanus,” he read carefully aloud, making sure he had it correct.
He did. Nalini had introduced some of her colleagues to him before the asteroid landing. Hassani had been on the barge. But not with that face.
There was nothing shifty or nefarious-looking about the man in the photo—he was clean-shaven with a tan and dark brown suit similar in style to what the businessmen on Oceanus had been wearing—but he wasn’t the right guy. Tristan pulled up the Morning Star ship and the roster of guests traveling on it.
It was listed as the Cloud Raven with a crew of six and six guests, colleagues of Nalini’s and approved to come to the ball. Tristan didn’t recognize any of the other faces, but he didn’t recognize the names either. Hassani was the only one he’d met.
“Chief Namjoo?” Tristan called into an office adjoining the control room.
The short, dark-haired security officer came out, and Tristan pointed to the record.
“You may want to check on this man if he’s in the palace.” The record showed that the Cloud Raven had arrived, docking earlier that morning. “Maybe it’s just a glitch, but this isn’t what Hassani looks like.”
“I’ll check on it. Thank you.” Namjoo walked back into his office.
Tristan frowned, not certain whether Namjoo meant to take him seriously or not. His assistant, Habib, had betrayed the sultan and betrayed Nalini. Could they trust this man implicitly?
Tri
stan made a mental note to show this to Nalini as soon as she was done with her meeting with Jorg. He was tempted to check up on her, to make sure she was all right, but he doubted Jorg would do anything improper to her. Just because he was an ass to commoners who longed to be knights didn’t mean he would treat an equal poorly.
The door opened, and two men in Kingdom bodyguard uniforms walked in ahead of Jorg and Samar. Tristan gaped. Was Jorg’s meeting with Nalini already over? Why had he come here?
Jorg carried a tablet under his arm, as if he were doing some inspection of the station and checking off areas as he went.
“And this is our security office,” Samar said, waving toward the computer consoles and a large window that overlooked one of the big ship bays. “We’re vetting all of the guests now to make sure nothing untoward happens at the ball. Nobody in the palace would dare mess with one of the sultan’s events, but we have people coming in from elsewhere. And the Kingdom.” Samar smirked, as if to suggest the Kingdom people would be the problem.
Tristan thought Jorg might take offense, but Jorg’s gaze latched onto him, and he didn’t seem to hear the comment.
Tristan straightened, bowed, then clasped his hands behind his back. He hadn’t expected to see Jorg here and hoped Samar swept him out right away.
“It’s a boring room,” Samar said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the gardens and the art galleries. A few of my pieces are in there, so it’s naturally a scintillating place to spend time.”
He headed for the exit, but Jorg pointed at Tristan. “I will speak to this man in private.”
“Uh.” Samar paused in front of the open door. “All right. Maybe the chief will let you use his office for a—”
Knight Protector: a Star Kingdom novel Page 18