was Brian Haskell, not this...”
“Bhaskar Ahuja,” he helpfully supplied.
“Right. Him. So I can’t be who you think I am.”
“According to the DNA results, you’re definitely the granddaughter of Queen Nargis, and Bhaskar was her only child. Ergo...”
She shook her poor befuddled head.
“This is crazy. And how does any of this relate to your proposition that we marry?”
Just saying the words made her blood pressure skyrocket, bringing a slow-building headache.
“Through your father, you could, if you wish to exercise it, have a claim to the throne. Should certain factions find that out, you may be used as a rallying point for a revolution.”
“I—I don’t want the throne,” she’d said, quite sure it would be the end of the conversation. The craziness.
But Crown Prince Farhan had simply shaken his head.
Apparently, in the worlds of royalty and politics, nothing was that simple. She wouldn’t even have to participate in the rebellion, could denounce it, and that still wouldn’t be enough.
Farhan wrapped long, nimble fingers around the disposable cup half-filled with coffee and leaned closer across the small table. At that distance, in the garish light, she realized his eyes weren’t as dark as she’d thought.
Or as cold.
In the rich brown tones there was, she thought, a hint of sympathy, although what she interpreted as determination took precedence.
“Even though there is no way to connect Brian Haskell with Bhaskar, except through your DNA, some might consider you the true Queen of Kalyana. My father hopes that, should your lineage become public knowledge, uniting the bloodlines through our marriage would appease those inclined to overthrow his reign.”
At least some semblance of her logical brain was still functioning. Not that she knew much about royalty and rights of inheritance, but she did know enough to ask, “But don’t thrones pass from father to son? And if my father ran off rather than take the throne, shouldn’t he be considered to have abdicated?”
He surprised her with the briefest hint of a smile. Just enough to chase the solemn, arrogant expression from his face and create deep, slashing laugh lines in his cheeks. With just that small change his face, already gorgeous, became shockingly beautiful.
Tingles of awareness shot through her veins, and heat settled low in her belly.
“Not in Kalyana. It’s always been the oldest child, irrespective of gender. And there are people who might say Bhaskar was forced to run away by my family, rather than him leaving of his own accord.”
A little chill ran up her spine at his words, and she had to ask, “Could there possibly be any truth to that? And if we’re both part of the royal family, aren’t we related?”
His face tightened, became forbidding, yet he replied, “No, we’re not related and I think it doubtful my grandfather even knew he was next in line, since we’d cut off all contact with the kingdom by that point. My branch of the family had left Kalyana about a century before, and was living prosperously in Australia. By all accounts, my grandfather, his wife and children underwent great upheaval when he agreed to take the throne. And their transition was difficult, because of the suspicion surrounding your father’s disappearance.”
Her mind was going a million miles an hour, and she latched onto a subject that felt distant enough to be tenable. “How old was your father when they moved there?”
His eyebrows rose slightly, as though the question caught him off-guard. “About nine or so, I think.”
“Poor soul,” she murmured, imagining herself at that age moving halfway across the world into a new and hostile environment. She’d had life changes happen at about the same age, and the effects still lingered, even after so many years. “That must have been rough on him.”
Prince Farhan’s eyes widened slightly, then he dropped his gaze to his cup, not replying.
There were too many threads to unravel, but one thing was foremost in her mind.
“Why can’t I just sign a document saying I promise not to try to take over the country? Wouldn’t that work as well?”
He looked up at her again, but it felt as though he’d pulled his mind back to their conversation from somewhere far away.
“The vast majority of the Kalyanese people have no problem with the monarchy. However, even after more than fifty years, the suspicions about my family have lingered, so having you aligned with our side of the family would...should...put all that to rest, once and for all.”
It was too much to take in, and she struggled to contain her anxiety, the panic making her pre-ulcerous stomach burn and her hands shake.
Sara wasn’t impulsive. She’d had neither the luxury nor the inclination to be. In life, and particularly in her job, she was cautious and deliberate, to the point where the manager of the walk-in clinic often asked her speed up diagnosing and treating patients.
And yet here she was, seriously considering his proposition.
It wasn’t just the money, although the lump sum he’d offered, along with an amount he’d called a monthly stipend but had sounded like a yearly salary to her, would definitely be a godsend. More than that, though, the gorgeous man sitting across from her seemed to embody adventure, and offer her a chance to see her ancestral home. He was also dangling a chance to play a fairy-tale role in front of her like the ultimate carrot.
Her. Plain, unremarkable, sensible and reliable Sara Greer, contemplating running off into the sunset with a real life prince to become a princess in her own right?
She must be losing her mind.
As though to distract her, her brain went off at a tangent and she heard herself say, “You sound Australian, but Kalyana is in the Indian Ocean. Have your family kept their accents after all this time?”
Farhan shook his head. “I don’t sound like the rest of my family because I went to medical school and practiced in Australia up until a year or so ago.”
In the midst of all the nonsense, she’d forgotten he was a doctor too. Somehow knowing that made her relax fractionally.
“What is your specialty?”
“I’m a general surgeon. My brother, Maazin, is one as well, although, having trained with the Royal Guard, his experiences have been far more interesting than mine.”
“Do you have a practice in Kalyana now?”
His expression was rueful as he replied, “I keep my hand in, but it feels as though I do more administrative work than actually practicing medicine. I’ve been trying to upgrade the medical systems, which has turned out to be more difficult than I’d imagined.”
“I’d need to work, if I agree to come with you.”
The words fell between them, were followed by a thick
