by Zara Zenia
“I feel like that's a question for the matchmaker,” she said. “Who doesn't seem very good at the moment, does she?”
“No,” Draklan replied. “She doesn't.”
Both of them fell into silence for a while, and then she asked him another question.
“Why did you need a matchmaker at all?” she said. “If you're a prince, there must be a million girls at your feet. That's the way it is on Earth, anyway.”
He smiled at that. “It may seem that way to the commoners,” he said, “but I assure you, the Earth princes have just as hard a time finding anyone as we do on Tamarax. For those of us who once had a dream of happiness, finding a suitable royal match is basically impossible.”
“So do they use matchmakers too?”
“I don't know,” he admitted. “Sometimes. And what about you?”
“What about me?” she asked.
“Why did you sign up for a matchmaking service?”
“Oh,” she said at last. “Earth men were not working out for me. At least, one in particular wasn't, and after him, I couldn't put myself through that again.”
“I see,” Draklan replied. “Sorry to hear that. His loss though.”
“Yeah,” Margot said, and they fell back into silence.
Draklan eventually stood up, going to clean up the blood on his face. When he came back, he seemed a little less agitated. Margot really looked at him for the first time as he sat down again.
He was handsome, she admitted to herself. He was the type of man who would turn her head on the street or make her raise an eyebrow during a movie. However, just because he looked attractive didn't mean he was her soulmate. Margot didn't really know anything about him, and she wanted to, if there was even a chance that this could work out.
“You have two brothers, right?” she asked. “Tell me about them.”
“I do have two,” he said. “But I only like one of them. Pralmav, he's more of a scientist than he is a prince these days. But that's his choice, and Mother is happy for him to do it because he's saved the entire planet. More than once.”
“Huh,” she said. “That's . . . impressive. What about the one you don't like?”
“I just don't get along with Bhatraz,” he replied. “He's the crown prince.”
Margot felt like there was more to the story, but she didn't want to pry.
“And they are both married?”
“Yes,” he said.
He was pacing, and Margot noted it as if she was making a file on him. If she really was going to spend the rest of her life with him, then it was something she should start to build.
“Bhatraz's wife is Rabbina. She'll be queen when my mother . . . passes on. And Pralmav's wife is Milinna.”
“You like her better,” Margot said, picking up on a tone in his voice.
He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“Just the way you said it,” she said. “I haven't met either of them.”
“Milinna is perfect for my brother,” he said. “My brother has no . . . game, as you would call it, but they are both perfectly smart and they are good for each other. Rabbina . . . you'll see. She comes on a bit strong, and their arranged marriage was not the best match, though Bhatraz adores her.”
“Ah,” Margot said, glancing at him. “I guess that sometimes, these things don't work out.”
“Most of the time,” he said, “they don't work out. But no one comments on that. You just make do.”
“Hmm,” she said, tucking her knees up to her chest.
He looked at her for a moment and then moved to pause by the window.
“So it’s obvious to me that the matchmaker has given us false information,” he said. “And I'm not sure there is a way to rectify it.”
“Neither am I,” she said. “So I guess we could just . . . make it work?”
That surprised him, and he spun around.
“You have been wronged,” he said, slowly and evenly. “And regardless of what process or red tape it would create for my kingdom, you have been very misled, and that is not a reality you have to accept. There must be some sort of clause about the first twenty-four hours or being misled or . . .”
“Yeah, no,” Margot said quietly. “But even if there was, it's not like I have anything to go back to.”
He didn't say anything for so long that she was worried he didn't hear her. However, just when she was about to repeat herself, he spoke, just as softly. “Will you be harmed if you go back?”
“Maybe not . . . physically,” she said. “I mean . . . everything is already ruined back there, so maybe no more harm can be done. I don't know. But you were wronged too, by that logic.”
“My dear, no one even told me what to expect,” he said. “So I wasn't wronged so much as left in the dark.”
“But clearly, I'm not suitable for being a princess,” she said. “If the matchmaker promised you a regent . . .”
His face contorted in confusion, and she stopped.
“What?”
“I think you mean ruler,” he said. “A co-ruler. A regent is someone who rules in your place because you are unable to, for whatever reason.”
“See, I don't even know that,” she said, throwing up her hands.
He chuckled at that. “Things like that are easy to learn,” he said. “But there are much harder things that come with the title than the proper terminology.”
“So . . . what do you want to do?” she asked at last. “Do you want to try and smuggle me out of here?”
“Well, not tonight, anyway,” he said. “You've had a long journey, and you can at least sleep on the choice.”
“Here?” she asked, gesturing to his grand bed.
“Yes,” he said. “I'll, um . . . find some other accommodation. To make you comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But I want you to know . . . if I stay, I'm not a charity case. I work hard, and I'm determined to find a way, even when it seems like things are impossible.”
“You didn't dream of being a princess when you were a child?” he asked with a small smile.
“No,” she said. “But I can find a way to be one if that's what I need to be.”
“Tonight,” he said, “you just need to sleep. We'll figure out the rest in the morning.”
With that, he took his leave of her. Margot looked around the large room, observing the paintings and artifacts that were set up, no doubt left by past rulers of Tamarax.
“What am I doing?” she asked herself softly. “What the hell am I doing?”
Of course, no answer came. She stood up, undoing the straps on her dress and letting it slide off. Climbing into bed, she closed her eyes. She thought sleep would be difficult, but to her surprise, it came quite quickly. She slipped into a dreamless state, at peace for the first time she could remember in a long time.
Chapter 6
Draklan
“There is our brother, after his wedding night!” Bhatraz said.
Draklan blushed bright red when he walked into breakfast the next morning.
“How was it?”
“None of your business is how it was,” Draklan said, already regretting the choice to show his face this morning. He knew that all eyes were going to be on him, and he didn't exactly have a typical wedding night story that he could tell them about.
In fact, he didn't have any kind of wedding night. He had found a spare room to sleep in, fitfully, for most of the night. He had been up since before dawn, his mind turning over what had happened the day before. When he was a child, his mother had once told him that his wedding day was going to be the happiest day of his life. That certainly wasn't the case this morning. If anything, it was one of the worst because of what he felt were injustices done to him and Margot.
“Bhatraz,” Pralmav said, calmly.
He was always calm and collected, and he seemed to know how to deal with the Crown Prince the best. Even after their father died and Bhatraz's behavior became more confusing,
Pralmav was always the voice of reason. And for some reason that baffled Draklan, Bhatraz always listened to his younger brother, even at the worst of times. Draklan remained convinced that Pralmav had some sort of magic within his lab to control Bhatraz.
“Just playing with you,” Bhatraz answered as he sat down with a plate of food. The mask of perfection was back on as quickly as if it had never left. “Sit down. You must be hungry.”
“I'm not,” Draklan answered. “I have some things to do this morning, so I'll just eat this.” He grabbed a piece of fruit to keep up appearances and then headed down the hallway. He didn't want them to think that he and Margot had spent the night apart because consummating a royal marriage was a necessity on Tamarax. If the marriage wasn't consummated, it wasn't valid. And at the moment, he didn't want any more questions, given what he and Margot discovered last night.
He pushed open the door to his bedroom quietly, not wanting to knock and raise suspicion in the hallway. If he knocked, it would seem like he was a guest in his own bedroom. Which, at the moment, he was.
Margot was awake and dressed in the clothes she had arrived in. She was sitting on the window seat and was looking out at the landscape. In her hands were a pencil and sketchbook. And to Draklan's surprise, the sketch was quite good.
“You’re an artist,” he said.
She looked up with a start. “You didn't believe me?” she said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he said. “And it wasn't that I didn't believe you. I guess it was that I didn't realize how good you were.”
“This is why I chose Tamarax,” she said, pointing out the window. “When I filled out the application with the matchmaker, you could put a planet of preference. I didn't know much about any of them, but I knew Tamarax had the most stunning landscapes in the universe. I actually did a painting of a picture I saw and put it in my art show. Before . . . before that was ruined.”
“I brought you something to eat,” he said, handing over the Klassi fruit he had grabbed.
She looked at it oddly for a moment, rolling it over in her hand. “Do I peel it or just bite into it?”
“You don't have these on Earth?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said, putting down her sketch pad. “Peel or bite?”
“Um . . . either, actually,” he said. “I prefer it with the skin off, but some don't.”
“Great,” she said and took a giant bite.
Her face immediately contorted in disgust. He laughed, despite himself. She swallowed and then went back to the fruit, pulling off the soft skin.
“I guess I prefer it with the skin off,” she answered.
“I guess so.” He sat at the edge of the window seat, not wanting to invade her space. “We have to figure out what we are going to do.”
“I know,” she said. “I've been thinking half the night. I didn't sleep much.”
“Well, then, we are at least of one mind about that,” he said. “I'm sorry if I appeared angry last night. I was angry, but I wasn't angry at you, per se. This entire situation baffles me.”
“Yeah,” Margot said. “Given the amount of money I paid to this matchmaker. She promised me . . . well, she promised me true love, and I thought she took all of my preferences into account. But you’re–I mean . . .” She paused. “You're just not what I imagined. It's not that you can't be, if we do decide to move forward. I don't know you, I guess, so I can't make that judgment call. Do you understand?” She must have realized she was babbling because she stopped and her cheeks turned pink.
“Only because I'm in a similar situation,” he replied. “I think our best course of action would be to figure out what we are going to do going forward. Would you like to stay?”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised by his question. “I mean . . . yes. I think so. I don't really have anywhere else to go, and this view . . . this view is worth almost anything.”
He realized that she was half joking, which made him smile.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked.
“I understand that you've left everything you've known and risked everything,” he said. “And I’ve tried to disobey my mother in the past. As much as it infuriates me, there is no way out of it but her way. It is absolutely within her power to take my islands away from me if she wants to, and dissolving this marriage would guarantee that.”
“So . . . we'll figure out how to make this work?” Margot said.
“I think so,” he said, and he saw a glimmer of happiness in her eyes. “I think as long as we are both reasonable people, which you seem to be, we can come to an agreement.”
“Are you a reasonable person?” she asked him.
He answered truthfully. “I can be,” he said. “I can have a temper sometimes too, but I promise you, I will never harm you. Our wedding vows said that I would protect and provide for you, and I will not go against them, even in the worst of times. That crosses every line that I stand for.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That's nice to hear. I tend to be a little headstrong too, but we both have to remember that this marriage comes with benefits we both need, so fighting each other rather than the rest of the universe won't do any good.”
“I like that perspective,” he said. “It's unique. So many of the married around here think that their vows meant they should fight each other with every breath.”
“Yeah, it's the same on Earth,” she said with a smile. “So we'll stay married.”
“We'll stay married,” he said.
She shifted gears. “What about this matchmaker who royally screwed up, pun intended?” she asked. “Do you know her?”
“I only know the name,” he said. “I know there are a few other matches that she has made. High-profile ones that must have paid her well.”
“And how are those?” Margot asked.
He shook his head. “Not good. I would like to have a word with her.”
“Revenge,” Margot said. “The word you are looking for is revenge.”
“But how?” he answered. “We believe in an eye for an eye.”
“Too bad we can't make an unsuitable match for her,” Margot mused. “I'm sure we could come up with something though.”
“I think before we come up with something, we have to find her.”
“You don't know where she is?” Margot said. “Your mother must know.”
“By that logic, you must know,” Draklan said. “Since you also hired her.”
“I have no idea,” Margot admitted. “I just assumed . . . I don't know what I assumed, really. In hindsight, it was all a big risk.”
“We do have people who are reasonably good at finding things out,” Draklan said. “So I'm sure I can put some of them to work. It would have to be in secret though. If my mother found out, she would not be content. There is one other thing.”
“Hmm?” Margot asked.
“On Tamarax, you need to consummate a royal marriage for it to be valid. And the whole point is heirs.”
“Oh.” She blushed scarlet. Her eyes widened, and he backtracked.
“But we can . . . I mean, if you're all right with lying to the queen about it . . . just pretend that it happened last night. For now.”
“For now?” she asked.
“Until you're . . . if you're ready,” he said. “I understand this was not the situation you expected. So we'll figure it out when—if—the time comes. But if anyone asks . . .”
“We consummated the marriage,” she answered. “I don't have to . . . like, give graphic details or anything?”
“No, you shouldn't have to,” he said. “In fact, you're a princess now, so no one should disrespect you like that. The only people who might bring up such details are the other princesses or the queen. In which case . . .”
“Paint them a picture,” Margot said with a smile. “I can do that. But is there a manual I can read?”
“About what?” he asked.
“About being a princess,” she said. “What did you think I m
eant?”
“Oh.” He breathed a sigh of relief. Both of them caught each other's eyes and they giggled. It was a moment of pure innocence, a moment of humor that they could share. “I mean, not specifically, but maybe you could talk to Milinna? I could introduce you.”
“That would be nice,” she said. “I suppose I should get to know my sisters-in-law.”
“Yes,” he said. “Now, can I have anything sent to you?”
“More clothes?” she asked. “Since you already have my measurements?”
“I can take care of that,” he said. “And I imagine you want more than a piece of fruit for breakfast. Anything else?”
“Perhaps . . .” She gazed out the window. “Perhaps an easel and some paints? I will have time to do those things, won't I?”
“Yes, I can do that,” he said. “There's a group of painters that actually congregates on the front lawn once a month, if you want to join them?”
“Sure,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Thank you, that's kind of you.”
“No trouble,” he said and then stood there awkwardly. He wanted to hug her but hesitated. Neither of them moved and then eventually, he took a step back. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Absolutely,” she said, and he headed out the door.
Once in the hallway, he shook his head to clear it. This was certainly not the situation he imagined himself in on his wedding day. However, it was at least interesting.
“Can I get you anything, Your Grace?” A maid noticed him staring in her general direction and approached, bowing.
“Yes,” he said. “Some clothes for my princess and some breakfast. Oh, and an easel and paints. She enjoys painting.”
“Right away, Your Grace,” she said, scampering away. Draklan headed down the hall to the throne room to lie to his mother about the night. If he pretended everything was fine, perhaps everything would turn out fine in the end.
Chapter 7
Margot
“That's beautiful,” Draklan said to her when she showed him her first painting on Tamarax.
The fact that she was actually painting the landscapes in person was stunning to her. She knew that her husband had more important things to do, but he was really the only person she knew, and she couldn't resist showing someone what she had created.