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“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen, Charday,” Jaryk said and then kissed the woman in lavender.

Kismet gasped, her hopes and dreams crashing around her feet. I’m such a fool. Such a fool.

For a moment, she couldn’t even move, then she spun around and dove into the throng of whirling dancers, running for the exit.

Jaryk shouted at her, but she couldn’t face him and the humiliating betrayal.

He’s still with Charday. It’s her he wants.

Tears streamed down her face. People were staring, but she didn’t care.

“Goddess! What’s wrong?” A startled Karma stopped dancing to grab her arm.

“I can’t— I can’t—” She shook off her sister’s hold and zigzagged through the dancers.

The footmen swung the door open, and she burst into the wide corridor. Hiking up her skirts, she ran. At a T in the corridor, she spotted people to the right, so she veered left.

She stumbled, stepping out of a shoe. She kicked off the other one. Barefooted and sobbing, she ran until she couldn’t run anymore. Her pace slowed to a walk, but tears continued to fall.

Lies. Lies. Lies. He didn’t come home because he was with Charday. How could he do that? He said he loved me.

They hadn’t known each other for very long, but she’d never questioned his integrity. What an idiot I am! She’d never pegged him as a player or a womanizer, but obviously he intended to see Charday even though he was married.

She felt utterly humiliated. How many people were aware of Jaryk and Charday? Tongues would be wagging about her mad dash from the ball. The king and queen would be upset. Or maybe not. They can’t announce the marriage now. The king might be thrilled.

My life is a debacle.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Sniffling, she looked around. Where am I? In her pell-mell dash, she hadn’t paid attention, and now she felt disoriented. Nothing looked familiar. But then, nothing would ever be the same again.

A servant can help me get to where I want to go. As soon as I figure it out.

The apartment would be the last place she’d go. Jaryk would eventually show up there. Nor did she wish to see her sister. Her twin would never outright say, “I told you so,” but she didn’t need to. Pig-dog-polecat indeed.

I just want to be alone.

She continued walking and sniffling until she reached an atrium—one of the many palace gardens.

The door opened, releasing the scent of greenery and flowers into the corridor.

A gardener pruning shrubs glanced at her before returning to his work.

Being among growing things normally brought her serenity, but the atrium oasis reminded her of the time at the horticulture museum.

She scooted away and let the door close.

In her mind, the day had been very special—they’d seemed to forge a connection. But it had been an illusion.

Her entire marriage was a sham. Jaryk had been biding his time until he could marry Charday.

The signs had been there—his refusal to marry Alia, a noblewoman of his own species.

Everyone said it would have been advantageous to Kaldor.

The king and queen had desired the union.

If Alia couldn’t capture his heart, what hope do I have?

But he said he loved me.

Men say that all the time and don’t mean it. They’re pig-dog-polecats!

Jaryk hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who would mislead someone, who would fake emotion. She would have sworn he’d been sincere.

She sank onto a gilded bench, leaned her head against the muraled wall, and closed her eyes.

Maybe there’s an explanation. Maybe it’s not what I think it is.

She choked off a tearful laugh. When will I wise up? He’d sneaked off to see Charday. He’d disappeared overnight—she had only his say-so there’d been a storm. The weather had been calm at the palace. Charday was at the ball! And the instant he spotted her, he’d taken off like a shot.

How many other people were aware of their tryst? Am I the last to know?

What do I do now?

* * * *

Jaryk dashed after Kismet, but so many people whirled around on the dance floor, he lost sight of her. “Let me pass. Get out of my way!” he ordered the startled guests. He was too anxious, too angry to be polite.

He ran into Falkor and Karma. “What did you do to my sister?” Karma blocked his path.

“You saw her? Which way did she go?” he demanded.

“What did you do?” she countered.

His brother pointed. “That way.”

He dashed to the main doors. “Did my wife go through here?” he asked the footmen.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

He bounded down the corridor. He could search the palace all day and never find her. Would she have gone back to the apartment? He started to head that way, but, as he glanced to the left, he spotted something on the floor and jogged over to take a quick look.

Kismet’s shoes! He picked them up and followed the twists and turns of the passage to an atrium. Kismet spent a lot of time in the palace gardens. She loved trees and flowers—one of the many things they had in common. One of his fondest memories was the afternoon at the horticulture museum.

He’d started to enter the atrium when he spotted a lone figure, her posture forlorn, sitting on a bench far down the passageway.

His heart leapt with relief, but his stomach clenched as he imagined the dire things she would be thinking.

How am I going to fix this? Would the truth be enough? What if she doesn’t believe me?

Silently, he approached .

Her eyes were closed, but her face looked sad.

“Kismet,” he said softly.