Page 3

Two weeks later

The intimidating opulent “reception room” rendered Kismet speechless.

The exterior of the palace had resembled a colony of sea urchins—spired interconnected domes.

The inside was pure opulence. Jewels gleamed in the floors, intricately woven fabrics dressed the windows, and murals adorned the glowing curved ceiling.

Rich tapestries and scenic paintings hung from the walls.

Golden sconces and floating chandeliers bathed the space in gentle light.

The furnishings appeared ancient and modern at the same time, like retro avant-garde art pieces intended to be viewed and not used.

She was afraid to sit on the sofa—was it even a sofa? It could be a priceless sculpture. “This is unexpected.” She placed her bulging tote carefully on the least decorative table.

The bag held her multipurpose comm device loaded with her travel documents and health certificate, her few pieces of nice jewelry, sentimental mementos, a snow globe gift for Jaryk, and an emergency change of clothing.

Karma plunked her bag next to Kismet’s. Her sisters can’t-risk-losing items included crystals, tarot cards, incense, runes, and loose tea for drinking and divining.

After disembarking the spaceship, their luggage had been loaded on a hovercart, floated to an air vehicle, and then whisked out of sight upon arrival at the palace. She had no idea where their suitcases were now. However, the location of their luggage was the least of her concerns.

I’m going to marry an alien. Who lives in a freaking palace. Not for the first time, she wondered what “government official” Jaryk did. Clearly, he was no ordinary civil servant. Perhaps an aide to a royal?

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Karma agreed. “How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. Everything happened so fast.” She felt lightheaded from nervousness.

After accepting the marriage proposal, the days had sped by at warp speed.

She’d had to quit her job, break the lease on the apartment, pack up, say goodbye to her mother and friends—all in two weeks.

Cosmic Mates had sent a ship for them, and a faster-than-light space flight had deposited them on planet Kaldor in less time than it took to fly around the world on Earth.

A liveried alien gentleman had met them at the spaceport and escorted them to the air vehicle that shot them at hypersonic speed to the sea urchin complex.

“Welcome to the Palace of Kaldor,” he’d said as massive gilded double doors opened to a lavish foyer.

“W-w-wait. Palace?” she’d asked.

“Yes. Come this way.” Giving her no chance to gawk, he’d marched them through a confusing maze of corridors lined with imposing full-length portraits of somber-faced people.

I guess smiling isn’t the norm for Kaldorans.

She wasn’t sure if that made her feel more or less comfortable about her decision.

“I will inform His Highness of your arrival.”

“His Highness?”

“Someone will be with you shortly.” He backed out of the imposing room and closed the door.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Karma asked now.

“Dozens.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“The marriage ceremony is tomorrow!”

“And this is today. If you don’t want to go through with this, now is the time to say so. We can go home.”

“How? You can work with Mom again at the Mystical Mage, but I quit my job. We let the apartment go. And, we’d have to pay for our passage.

I cannot imagine how much a space flight would cost.” Or how to book one!

Cosmic Mates had gotten them to Kaldor, but, according to the rules, if she left before the probationary year of marriage ended, she’d have to pay her own way back.

“Those are not insurmountable obstacles.”

Kismet shook her head. “No, I’m sticking to my decision. I haven’t even met Jaryk yet. I came all this way—he’s expecting me. I need to give it a chance.”

“That’s my sis!”

She bit her lip. “The man said he would inform His Highness we’re here. You don’t suppose he was referring to Jaryk, do you? That he’s His Highness? That sounds like…a prince or something.”

“Wouldn’t that be cool?” Karma grinned. “A literal Prince Charming! But no, I highly doubt it—pun intended. Remember, his profile said he was a government official. He’s probably an aide to the prince.

If he was royalty, I’m sure he would have said so.

Nobody would hide that. Nor would a prince join a matchmaking service to get a wife.

I’m pretty sure royal marriages are arranged to solidify alliances, expand the kingdom, produce heirs, blah, blah, blah. ”

“That’s a good point,” she said, relieved.

The door slid open, and a Kaldoran man strode in.

He wore simple blue-green leggings and a long-sleeve, mid-thigh-length tunic, but the quality of the fabric was obvious.

His attire probably cost more than her annual clothing budget.

Short blue hair had been styled into audacious, almost-rakish spikes.

The blue stripes across a rather patrician nose were not natural but cosmetic, and painted on with a reckless stroke.

She noted a resemblance to Jaryk. A relation?

Or could the similarity be due to the fact that they were both Kaldoran?

“You must be Kismet Kennedy.” He smiled, disabusing her assumption that Kaldorans didn’t smile. “My name is Falkor. I’ve been eagerly anticipating your arrival. My apologies for having brought you in through the servants’ entrance.”

That grand foyer with the soaring muraled ceiling and gilded floor was in the servants’ area?

“Government official” Jaryk must be a servant.

Guess I’m not marrying a prince, after all, she thought with wry humor and relief.

She desired no pomp or pageantry, just a simple life with a man who would maybe fall in love with her.

“No problem,” she said. “Uh, this is Karma.”

“The handmaid. Yes.” A dismissive gaze bounced off her face.

Karma stiffened, and Kismet could almost see the steam building. “My sister,” she quickly explained, and radioed a silent plea for restraint. Please. Let it pass. Don’t cause a scene. For all that she claimed to be Zen, her twin had a short fuse.

Kismet had said she’d be bringing a “handmaid,” but the dismissal surprised her, too.

He’s not Jaryk, so he doesn’t understand.

Clearly he’d been given some information, but not all.

She was sure she’d explained in a later communication that her “handmaid” was, in fact, her twin sister. Pretty sure, anyway.

Maybe?

But even if Karma had been a servant, that was no reason to be impolite.

“Are those your bags?” His gaze settled on the carryalls.

“Yes,” Kismet said.

“The rest of the luggage has already been moved into your temporary quarters.” He flicked a glance at Karma. “Bring those bags,” he ordered.

Smiling at Kismet, he said, “Follow me, and I’ll show you to the guest suite. It includes an attached servant’s closet with a bed for your handmaid. After the ceremony, you’ll move into Jaryk’s—”

“Excuse me!” Karma interrupted.

Oh, crap. Here we go.

“You’re putting me in a closet? I’m her sister ! Not a servant. But even if I was, that’s a horrible way to treat the hired help. Who do you think you are?”

His posture stiffened, affability vanishing, replaced by prim formality. “I am His Highness Prince Falkor Rullok-Myka of Kaldor.”

Kismet’s stomach tightened with dread. “So, Jaryk is—”

“ Crown Prince Jaryk Rullok-Myka of Kaldor, heir to the royal throne.”