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Hands behind his head, Jaryk lay staring at the stars, discontent and guilt gnawing at his brain. He felt like he hadn’t been fair to Kismet, like he’d asked too much of her. She’d married him willingly—he hadn’t forced her; she could have gone home. But what would she get out of the arrangement?

Nothing.

Even the wedding had ended on a sour note with his father storming in. The king could be quite frightening if one wasn’t used to his bellicose ways—sometimes even if you were used to his blustery aggression.

Perhaps it would have been better if the king had prevented the wedding.

Better for Kismet.

Except, Jaryk liked her and enjoyed her congenial company and exotic beauty. Funny because he didn’t consider Karma nearly as attractive even though they looked alike. He could stare at Kismet all day—and had to be careful he didn’t.

As long as he looked and didn’t touch, that would be okay, wouldn’t it?

His duties put him into contact with many people, many of them beautiful women. Alia was quite comely—but objectively acknowledging her physical attributes had never made him feel disloyal to Charday.

His fake marriage, on the other hand, stirred niggling guilt even though he was doing this for her .

She’d insisted on a temporary separation, so he could “think about what was important,” expecting him to come running with an offer of marriage.

She would not have foreseen him marrying someone else.

However, the harebrained scheme of Falkor’s might offer their only chance to be together.

Judging from the king’s reaction, it might work.

His father might decide he preferred Charday to a human and relent.

Which aroused more guilt because Kismet was a wonderful person.

Her being human didn’t matter. She didn’t deserve to be used.

But what really disturbed him?

The kiss. Brief. Perfunctory. Way too enjoyable.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit maybe he’d jumped at the chance to kiss her.

And almost followed up with another. He’d relived memories of the kiss throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening, during the tour of his suite—especially when he’d shown her the sleeping arrangements—and then through dinner.

His preoccupation was disloyal to Charday. There could be no more kisses. Their marriage would be platonic. But neither could he sneak away to see Charday. That would be disrespectful to Kismet. Instead, he would abstain from all sexual contact during the probationary year.

Perversely, that made him feel disloyal to his wife. She deserved a husband who desired her and could provide physical intimacy. Everything he did seemed wrong!

When Charday learned of the marriage, she would not be happy. She had quite the temper. While Kismet had been very accommodating, he couldn’t imagine she’d be happy in a sterile, plastic marriage.

Caught in the middle, he couldn’t be happy.

He never should have listened to Falkor. However, if he had to be stuck in a loveless marriage, he preferred Kismet over Alia. If Charday hadn’t claimed his heart, he would have been very happy with Kismet and might even have fallen in love with her.

And that made him feel really disloyal. Because it still might be true.

* * * *

They waited in a VIP tent outside the museum. “Don’t be nervous,” Jaryk whispered.

“I can’t help it,” Kismet said. “There must be two hundred people out there.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think there are quite that many. Besides, they will all be very happy to meet you.”

“Curious,” she said. “They will be curious to see me. They will be happy to see you .”

“You’ll do fine. Just wave and smile.”

He’d requested she accompany him to the dedication of the museum as a way to let her dip her toe into the waters of public scrutiny before plunging into the full spectacle of the royal ball.

Meeting new people made his shy wife anxious, and she preferred one-on-one encounters to huge groups.

Hopefully, low-key events like this one would build her confidence and enable her to feel more comfortable because public appearances were a common, frequent aspect of royal life.

Plus, this low-key venue gave them some time together. Since the wedding three days ago, an abundance of royal duties had claimed his constant attention, causing him to miss the nightly dinners. He and Kismet had barely exchanged more than a dozen words in passing. He felt like he’d abandoned her.

“Do I look okay?” She smoothed her hands down the sides of her blue dress.

“You couldn’t have chosen a better color. Kaldoran blue is perfect,” he said. While the fabric and construction weren’t as sumptuous as a royal would wear, the people would only notice the color.

“There’s an official color?”

He nodded. “Yes. Have you met with the tailor yet?”

“Yes,” she said. “She measured me from every angle. She said the first of the garments would be ready tomorrow. She hinted I’d be receiving quite a few articles. I thought I was getting a ball gown.”

“You will need a few more clothes,” he said. “For events like this. And for more formal occasions.”

The museum director stepped out. “It’s about to begin,” Jaryk said. “The people will love you. Don’t worry.”

“As long as your father doesn’t show up.”

He chuckled. “No worries. This isn’t his thing. I doubt he even knows about it.”

“He wasn’t supposed to know about the wedding, either,” she pointed out.

He squeezed her shoulder. “It will be fine.”

The museum director began to speak. “Welcome honored guests to the special preview of the Museum of Alien Horticulture!”

The crowd whistled their appreciation.

“Tickets for the grand opening and for several days thereafter have sold out. You are fortunate we set aside a special preview or you’d never get in,” Urk Poth-Dox said with a chuckle to the assembled townspeople.

“Seriously, I’m sure the crowds will subside after a while, but MAH will continue to be an economic and cultural boon to our city and the planet by attracting more visitors— more tourist dollars —from around the galaxy.

Equally important, it will be a huge learning experience for our youth.

Already, many schools have booked field trips to see alien flora in their simulated habitats. ”

He paused while the crowd whistled.

“We never could have achieved this without the patronage of His Highness. When we started this venture, people dismissed it—‘Plants? Who cares about plants?’ But once the prince got involved and put his time—and funding—behind it, people took notice.

“So, without further ado, I’m pleased and honored to present His Royal Highness Crown Prince Jaryk Rullok-Myka—and his new wife, Kismet Kennedy of Earth.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then murmurs of, “Wife? The prince is married?” rippled through the crowd.

With Kismet at his side, her hand clasped in his to show unity, he stepped out onto the stage to the whistles and cheers of the crowd. Releasing her hand, he smiled and waved, and she did the same.

Pride and satisfaction surged through him.

It felt good to have a partner. For so long, he’d stood alone, no peers to support him in these projects so dear to his heart.

Exotic and unique, Kismet was the perfect ambassador for an alien botanical garden.

Maybe he would even rename the garden after her.

When the whistles of applause subsided, he addressed the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming today. I’m thrilled to introduce two grand new developments to you.

First, my wife. She’s human, as you can see, and hails all the way from Earth.

After a very short courtship, I knew immediately I wanted to marry her, and she said yes.

We were wed a few days ago in a small, private ceremony.

” Technically, it was all true. A few hours of conversation could be considered a short courtship.

He withheld the whole truth because they might not accept her as his wife, but he couldn’t outright lie.

The crowd cheered their acceptance. Kismet waved and smiled.

“The second new development is, of course, the Museum of Alien Horticulture. It merges two interests of mine: horticulture and interplanetary relations. Each of the botanical habitat exhibits you will visit on your tour today authentically present the flora of the respective planet. Some fifty planets from across the galaxy are represented.” He glanced at Kismet.

“Earth is one of those.” He himself was eager to see the Earth exhibit.

He’d spearheaded the venture, but he’d only been to a few of the participating planets, and Terra wasn’t one of them.

“All plant species were donated by world rulers. The galaxy is vast, and it would be impossible for a single individual to visit all the habitable planets. So, this museum brings them to you.”

The people whistled.

He raised his hand to quiet the applause.

“The exhibit is not without risk to Kaldor, so I must issue a word of caution and ask for your cooperation. Stay on the paths . Do not take any organic material out of the museum—no seeds, no leaves, no flowers. We cannot risk accidentally transplanting alien plant life on Kaldor. We can enjoy this glimpse of other worlds, but we must ensure Kaldor stays looking like Kaldor. We can’t allow a potentially invasive species to leave the museum, take root, and spread.

So, remain on the paths. Don the protective footwear covers—and remove them before you leave. ”

Heads nodded.

“If everyone is ready, let’s go inside!”

He and Kismet formed a receiving line, greeting the people who offered congratulations as they filed into the museum. MAH staff handed out protective shoe covers as they entered.

“Whew!” Kismet said as the museum door closed behind the last of the guests. “I’m glad Kaldorans just nod and bow and don’t shake hands. That would be a lot of hands to shake.”

“Is that how humans greet each other, shaking their hands? Like this?” He waved his hands around.

She giggled. “No, like this.” She extended her right hand. “Clasp my hand with your right.” He did so. “Sometimes you just hold. Sometimes you pump, like this.” She demonstrated.

“What determines whether you pump or not? And how long do you hold it?” He still had her hand.

She shrugged. “We wing it.”

He couldn’t imagine winging anything. Rules, protocol, and formalities governed everything he did. Marrying Kismet had been the only time he’d bucked tradition.

The museum director approached. Kismet released his hand and added, “We shake hands in business and formal situations and with strangers. We say hello or hug with friends and family.”

“If Your Highness is ready, the line inside has cleared out enough if you care to tour the museum,” the director said.

“Yes, I would like that.” This would be his first time seeing it.

“Would you care for a guided tour, or do you wish to wander on your own?”

“On our own.”

“As you wish.”

A museum staff member handed them shoe cover-ups as they entered.

Habitats were separated into climate-controlled rooms to create the appropriate conditions for the vegetation and to avoid cross contamination and prevent one species from invading another’s space.

Some climates were warm and humid, others dry and hot.

Some were cold and windy. Outside each exhibit, screens flashed the warnings to stay on the paths and take nothing from the museum.

In one of the first botanical habitats they entered, tree branches drooped under the weight of razor-sharp metallic-appearing leaves.

Low-growing shrubs reminded him of fuzzy puff balls until he peered closer and saw tiny needles covering the plant.

“You don’t need to worry about anyone taking home anything from in here,” Kismet echoed his thoughts.

In another room, rainbow grasses waved in the breeze, created by hidden fans.

“The exhibits are like life-size dioramas!” she said. As they approached the next habitat, she wrinkled her nose. “It smells like something died.”

The door slid open, and the stench of decay hit them full force. “Oh, my god!” She covered her nose with her arm.

“Do you wish to go in?” he asked.

“No! No, thank you.”

He slipped an arm around her waist, ushering her away from the entrance so the door would close. A couple strolling by chuckled. “There are cadaver plants inside,” exclaimed the woman. “They look as ugly as they smell. It’s worth seeing, but the odor is awful.”

Kismet shuddered. “I’ll pass on that one.”

“Fantastic exhibit, Your Highness,” said the man.

“Wonderful,” the woman echoed. “And congratulations on your marriage.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the museum.”

The couple left them, heading for the exit.

“This is like a zoo, but with plants!” Kismet commented. “It’s a Boo!”

“I don’t understand.”

“Zoo stands for zoological park. It’s filled with animals. This is a botanical garden so it’s a Boo. Or, Poo for plant park, which also describes the smell of the last exhibit.” She laughed.

“Next stop—planet Earth!” he said.

They entered the habitat, and she took a deep breath and exhaled. Her entire body seemed to relax, and her eyes misted up.

“Looks like home?”

“Yeah. Earth has many biomes—grasslands, different kinds of forests, deserts, aquatic areas, but the foliage you see here is very common.”

They strolled through, taking their time, Kismet pointing out familiar flora. “That’s an oak tree. Those are pines. That’s a maple. These are rose bushes. Lilies. Daisies. Irises. I may want to come back here a time or two.” She sighed.

“You’re homesick,” he said.

“A little,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize how much until I saw this.”

“It’s only for a year,” he said to comfort her, masking his dejection at her eventual departure.

“Yeah,” she said, but didn’t sound cheered.

They lingered in the Earth zone until a family entered, and then they moved on to the next exhibit.

Huge stick-straight trees with a canopy of fronds dropped giant orange seed pods on a bed of sand in the dry, hot biome. “I hope the people obey the rules.” He eyed the pods. They were the sort of souvenir people might be tempted to take home. “We can’t allow these to germinate and take root.”

“I’m like the plants. An alien life-form you don’t wish to have take root,” Kismet said.

“No, you’re not!” Her analogy bothered him.

“The king doesn’t want me here.”

“But I do. The people do.”

“I’m a stopgap.”

He couldn’t refute her statement because it was true, but a part of him wished it wasn’t.