fierce nut of pride inside her grew and she found herself pressing hot palms together in her lap. Any woman should be proud to have a man like AJ as her husband, even if he wasn’t royal. She could feel a hum of excitement, almost like a wave of heat, rising in the room. Everyone could feel it. She glanced around and saw eyes glowing, cheeks brightening, as AJ carried them all on a tide of emotion. His words echoed like drumbeats around the room, their meaning less important than the man who spoke them and the spell he wove with his powerful voice.
He paused, looked up at the high-beamed ceiling, then started to walk. At first Lani thought he was simply returning to his seat. Disappointment that his performance was over warred with relief that no permanent commitments had been made or broken.
But then he stopped. He turned to his mother—seated only about two feet from Lani—and bowed deeply. Feeling something about to happen, Lani stiffened.
“I am proud—” AJ’s voice boomed through the packed ballroom “—to take up the staff of tradition, and assume the role of king as my father and brother have done before me.”
Lani gasped. Everything dimmed a bit and she grasped the arm of her chair to keep a grip on reality.
“And I am pleased to take Lani Rahia as my wife, according to royal custom.” His eyes fixed on hers as the last breath fled her lungs. Unable to govern her features into anything but terror-stricken panic, she sat frozen as every eye in the room turned to her.
The faces blurred and she found herself gasping for breath. She felt Priia’s soft hand on her arm. “I’m so happy, my daughter.” Priia’s tear-filled voice penetrated her foggy consciousness. “What a great day this is for Rahiri and for all of us.”
Lani tried to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t move. How could AJ do this without even consulting her?
Because he was the king, and she was no one. A royal widow, rather like a recently vacated crown, free for the taking and passing on.
Anger prickled through her, battling with the fear. The New Jersey upbringing and the freedoms she’d learned to take for granted challenged the quiet acceptance she’d tried so hard to school in herself.
And AJ had no idea she was pregnant. She felt angry that he hadn’t even asked her opinion about the marriage. How would he feel if he knew she carried his brother’s child?
If she went along with Priia’s plan, he’d never find out. He might suspect something, might wonder at the “premature” baby in such perfect health. He might notice features or traits that fitted his brother better than himself—but he’d never know for sure.
This was one small but deadly advantage women had always had over men. They didn’t really know if they were the father of a child. Only the woman held that secret.
“Lani, are you okay?” Priia’s voice penetrated the thick fog of her thoughts. “Have some water.” She felt a glass pressed to her lips, and she struggled to swallow the cool fluid.
“I… I think so” was all she could manage. She brushed a droplet from her lips, glad that at least she’d managed not to cry. Alarm snapped through her as she saw AJ, climbing the stairs on the dais, moving toward her.
“Stand up, dear,” whispered her mother-in-law. She rose shakily to her feet, patting her dress and hoping its creases didn’t show any hint of a belly. Every eye in the room felt like a laser searchlight ready to reveal all her fears and misgivings—or were they hopes and dreams?
Majestic in his carriage and bearing, AJ stood in front of her and took her hand. Her fingers trembled in his and heat flushed over her. “Will you take me as your husband? “
Their eyes met—locked onto each other—as he asked the question. It wasn’t traditional to ask. He’d done that out of consideration for her.
Or had he? Since she could hardly say no, here amidst the gathered throng of royal admirers.
“I will.” Her voice sounded so quiet, so meek, even in the deadly hush of the ballroom. She wondered if AJ would smile, but he didn’t. His face, like hers, seemed frozen into a kind of noble mask. Two people acting out roles history had determined for them, and in which emotion and personal opinion played no role.
A cheer rose from the crowd, echoing off the high ceiling and bouncing around the room. Glasses lifted and people began to stamp their feet on the floor, a customary display of enthusiasm.
“Both of you, walk around the room.” Priia’s urgent whisper penetrated her consciousness.
AJ’s arm slipped inside Lani’s and drew her down the three stairs to the ballroom floor. The skin of her arm felt hot and feverish against the dark fabric of his jacket. She tried to keep her steps steady, and school her face into an expression of quiet happiness.
AJ’s arm felt rigid, tense. He marched with slow dignity, not his usual relaxed gait. No doubt becoming king would turn him into a different person—it already was. Would he become a hard, cold man like Vanu once the wedding vows were sealed?
Cold terror crept through her, tightening her muscles. The stamping feet and calling voices created a blanket of sound that seemed to suck the air from the room and leave her gasping. So much expectation, so many hopes and dreams, and the nation’s future hidden in the darkness of her own belly. The pressure weighed on her like a thundercloud and she felt her head becoming light. “I think I’m going to faint,” she managed, head tilted toward AJ’s powerful jaw.
Her rasped whisper was lost in the roar of the crowd. AJ marched on, oblivious, his face set in a grim smile. Perhaps he’d forgotten she was even there?
The faces started to swirl together, a hot mix of colors with flashes of blackness. Her ankles wobbled and the floor seemed to tilt. She dug her nails into his arm, looking for purchase, and he glanced down.
“I—I don’t feel well,” she stammered, blinking.
Alarm filled his eyes. “We’ll go outside for some air. There’s a door over here.” He led her past some tables of excited guests, to a side door. Before he left, he turned and bowed. “Please stay and enjoy yourselves.”
Seeing that he and Lani were about to leave the room together, the crowd went wild. Perhaps they assumed some kind of romantic action was about to take place. A wave of nausea rose in Lani’s throat at the thought that she’d soon be all alone with AJ.
Her future husband.
Outside the door, the cool night air hit her face like a welcome slap. She sucked in a breath and pulled her arm from AJ’s, then wondered if she was even allowed to do that.
The lamplight cast AJ’s face into shadow, and for a second he looked menacing, unreadable. She didn’t know this man but was expected to spend her life with him and sleep in his bed, whether she wanted to or not.
Panic flashed through her and spurred her feet into action. The corridor blurred as she found herself running headlong toward the garden. She didn’t know why she was running, only that she had to move—to act on the fierce instinct to flee that reverberated through her whole body.
“Lani, where are you going?” AJ’s voice rang after her, and sped her steps. She heard his heels on the stone, marching at first, then jogging along behind her.
Where
