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“ You did what ?”

“You don’t need to yell,” Falkor said.

“I do need to yell because you didn’t hear me when I said no. I told you I did not wish to join Cosmic Mates.” Jaryk stomped around his sitting room, itching to punch something—like his brother. How could he have done this?

“What’s done is done.”

“Undo it. Send Kermit back to Earth.”

“Kismet.”

“What?”

“Her name is Kismet.”

“I don’t care what her name is. She shouldn’t be here. How could you have done such a thing without consulting me?”

“I did consult you. You said no. It’s for your own good. The royal ball is coming up. If you don’t act quickly, Father will announce your engagement to Alia. You are out of time.”

“Let me decide what’s for my own good.”

“You’re not making the right decisions!”

“Oh, that’s rich. You fraudulently misrepresented yourself by pretending to be me on a matchmaking site, extended an offer of marriage to a human woman, then brought her here under false pretenses.

” Kermit-Kismet expected to get married tomorrow.

“How will she feel when she finds out there’s no wedding?

” Not only had Falkor attempted to manipulate him, he’d given no concern to the other person involved.

“That won’t be an issue if you marry her.”

“No. Send her home with your deepest, most abject apologies.” Of all the impulsive, ill-thought-out stunts his brother had pulled, this had to be the worst. Because he’d involved him!

“The Cosmic Mates officiant will arrive in the morning.”

“Get rid of both of them.”

“I won’t. If you hate the idea so much, then you explain what happened, and you send them back to Earth.”

“You’re the one who caused this!”

“You’d rather marry Alia? Give up your chance for true love with Charday?”

“It is for the good of Kaldor. I don’t expect you to understand duty.” Expectations were different for him. Unlikely to be king, second-born Falkor enjoyed far more leeway to do what he wished than Jaryk did and took full advantage of his freedom. Frequently abused his freedom.

“You’re less concerned with duty than you are with avoiding Father’s wrath.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His brother rarely concerned himself with either—he shirked his duty and almost seemed to enjoy provoking their father into apoplectic rages.

“Even Mother thinks so.”

“You’ve been discussing me with Mother?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then how do you know what she thinks?”

His brother shrugged. “I can tell. The point is, Father is more bark than bite. He shouts and threatens, but then the storm blows over.”

“You would know.” He used to think their father overreacted to Falkor’s shenanigans, but he’d revised his opinion.

“You claim to love Charday, but you’re not willing to fight for her. If you marry Kismet, at the end of a year, you’ll be free to marry Charday.”

“Father will never agree.”

“By then, he might . But rather than take the chance, you’d prefer to roll over and marry Alia and be miserable for the rest of your life. You will be king someday. How are you going to stand up for our people if you won’t stand up for yourself?”

Before Jaryk could react, Falkor beat a hasty retreat.

* * * *

Jaryk poised outside the human’s suite, his brother’s vile accusation ringing in his ears. If Falkor hadn’t left when he did, he might have knocked his head off.

A king couldn’t indulge his whims; he had to put his people first. A king sacrificed for the good of the realm, or there would be no kingdom left to rule.

He believed Charday would make a fine queen, but his father disagreed, and there was nothing Jaryk could do about that—nothing reasonable, anyway.

All his life, he’d been forced to suppress his desires and do the responsible thing.

His entire life had been one test after another to prove his fitness to be king.

His brother got to play, indulge his whims, defy authority, and create a wake of chaos, leaving others to clean up his messes. He’d been dubbed the Prince of Scandal.

Jaryk stood for duty and responsibility; Falkor avoided both.

He dreaded telling the human woman she’d been duped and had to go home. This would have to be a crushing disappointment to her. Afterward, he might hunt Falkor down and deliver the comeuppance his asshole brother deserved. Stand up for yourself. By acting like Falkor? That was no solution!

Taking a deep breath, he rang the chime. He’d never met a human before. He’d heard about them but had never seen one. Which made it all the crazier his brother had chosen an Earther.

Several seconds later, the door opened.

She is not unattractive, he thought, surprised by his reaction.

Her light-brown hair, while nondescript in color and severely styled, gleamed under the lights.

Rather than pointed, her ears were curved, and the lobes were pierced with small studs.

She had large thick-lashed brown eyes, spaced with perfect symmetry in an exotic oval face.

An understated, elegant black belted tunic and form-fitting leggings showed off a slender figure with curves in all the right places.

Brown eyes widened, and pink lips parted. “Jar-Your Highness!” she pressed a slender hand to her throat.

“May I speak with you?”

“Come in.” She stepped aside so he could enter.

An identical woman rose from the sofa. Is she Kismet? He silently cursed his brother who’d failed to mention there were two women. His gaze shifted between them, and he realized they weren’t the same at all.

Both humans shared the same facial features, height, and build, but this one was flamboyant, almost gaudy.

She wore an ankle-skimming dress in rainbow colors, a billowy off-the-shoulder blouse, a multitude of arm bangles, and nearly as many rings—more, if you counted the ones on her toes, left bare by flat, ugly sandals.

Unruly hair, perhaps indicative of her nature, fell over one shoulder.

She looked like the sort who would eagerly abet his brother’s mischief, exactly the sort who would appeal to his irresponsible, impulsive nature.

She was obviously Kismet.

“This is my sister, Karma,” said the pretty woman who’d opened the door.

“Greetings to you,” he said, a little dismayed to discover the flashy one was not the woman Falkor had chosen for him. It would be easier to reject her. She was so obviously inappropriate.

He turned to Kismet. “May we speak privately?”

Karma started to say something, but Kismet cut her off. “Yes.”

“Perhaps we could take a walk?” he suggested.

She nodded.

“We won’t be long,” he said to mollify the sister. What he needed to say wouldn’t take much time. The best way to extricate himself was to do it swiftly and decisively.

They left her suite. He had no destination in mind but headed down the corridor.

Servants who saw him would make themselves scarce to afford him privacy.

Swift and sure , he prompted himself and plunged in.

“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.

My brother took it upon himself to apply to Cosmic Mates under my name.

I have no need for a wife, as I am about to become engaged.

I’m sorry. I will, of course, pay for your passage home. ”

She let out a long sigh. “I began to suspect as much.”

“I’m sorry. You must be disappointed.”

“Well…” Her smile quirked to the right and dimpled her cheeks. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Your Highness, but it comes as a bit of a relief.”

“Please call me Jaryk, and do tell me why it comes as a relief.” He was curious. Not hurt. Curious.

“Your brother omitted a key bit of information—that you are the crown prince. I know my limitations. I’m not suited for the royal life. I would be in over my head. I wouldn’t have the first clue what to do, how to act. It’s all very daunting.”

“I am sure you would have handled it capably,” he said politely. The sister, on the other hand… At least Falkor had some idea of what appealed to him. If he were to select a human bride, Kismet at least had the right deportment. “My brother tends to overstep his bounds.”

She laughed. “My sister is the same. I discovered after the fact she’d been screening all my Cosmic Mates proposals! Yours—your brother’s, I mean—was the only one I got to see.”

So, he might not have even been her first choice. He wondered how many proposals she’d received.

“I had mixed emotions about signing up for Cosmic Mates, anyway. I prefer to marry for love. Not marry first and then pray love develops,” she said.

“I understand. I, too, wish to marry for love,” he said. “My parents, King Rullok and Queen Myka, have arranged a marriage for me. I do not love the woman, and the marriage is not my choice, but it’s not up to me.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why did Prince Falkor sign you up for Cosmic Mates if you weren’t free?”

“Because, despite his numerous faults, he is aware of my feelings. He loves me in his thoughtless but well-intentioned way. He thinks if I married through Cosmic Mates, it would buy me time. My father would be unable to force me to marry Alia.”

“But you would still be married to someone you don’t love.”

“Which was why I dismissed his idea.” His mouth quirked. “However, since Cosmic Mates marriages are provisional, he figured at the end of the year, I would be free again—and this time, my father might find my choice more acceptable.”

“Oh,” she said. “Prince Falkor intended it to be temporary from the start.”

“Let me guess—he didn’t mention that part?”

“No, he didn’t. I was aware of the probation period, but I assumed we’d give it a fair trial and see what developed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

Misled, she’d traveled across the galaxy for nothing. He felt responsible for her. He discovered he liked her. She aroused his curiosity.

Their meandering stroll brought them to an atrium. “This is a garden. Would you care to see it?”

“I’d love to!”