Unnatural - Alessandra Hazard Page 0,53

whose face was set into tight lines. “The prime minister.”

Stefan laughed harshly. “See? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Lord Ksar’s expression was inscrutable as he looked at Taube. “Do you have an explanation for your actions?”

Taube’s lips pressed into a thin line. He said nothing, still looking mulish.

Stefan snorted. “Of course he doesn’t. All his pretty words about peace were just that: pretty, empty words. Kadar has never wanted peace, Your Lordship, while we entered this arrangement with open heart and sincere desire for peace. I even forced my only son and heir into this sham of a marriage, and for what? For the Kadarians to try to poison my son with illegal drugs that didn’t turn him into a mindless beast only by a stroke of good luck! How can we be reasonably expected to deal with such unprincipled, backstabbing people?”

Haydn sighed inwardly. His father’s voice became louder and louder, carrying such conviction that all the Pelugian nobles started gathering around him, clearly scenting blood, an advantage they could seize and use.

Just great. Not that he wasn’t pissed at Taube—he absolutely was—but Haydn didn’t like where it was going. He had a bad feeling about this.

Stefan’s next words confirmed his worst fears. “The Kadarians deceived us from the beginning! My sources say that Prime Minister Taube was aware that Senator Cleghorn was an alpha when he entered him into a marriage with my son.”

Beside him, Royce went rigid. Several shocked gasps sounded in the crowd.

His expression turning viciously triumphant, Stefan said, “So you see that the Kadarians sabotaged the peace from the beginning!”

Haydn wet his lips with his tongue. “That’s not true, Father.”

Everyone turned to him, his father included.

Unexpectedly, Stefan didn’t look angry. His expression was very still for a moment before his gaze softened. “Son, I know you want this peace to last, and I do too, but it’s now obvious that peace can’t be sustained when they keep backstabbing us. Tell his Lordship the truth: that the Kadarians entered an alpha into the marriage with you under false pretenses, knowing that a marriage between two alphas would never work. Tell him, son.”

Haydn swallowed, looking his father in the eyes. A part of him, the part that was still the little boy who’d always craved his father’s rare affection and approval, wanted to do as he said, wanted to finally make him proud. It wasn’t as though Stefan was necessarily wrong, after all. It was possible that Taube had had suspicions about Royce’s true designation and chosen Royce on purpose, fully expecting their marriage to crash and burn—and perhaps he’d even thought that it would ruin Royce’s chances in the elections, thus killing two birds with one stone. Haydn’s father might be entirely correct that Kadar had never intended to keep the peace.

But.

He looked at Lord Ksar’ngh’chaali. He could see from the slightly resigned expression on his face that if Haydn confirmed his father’s words, Lord Ksar—and the Galactic Council—would side with Pelugia. They would probably stop insisting on the peace between the countries and deal exclusively with Pelugia from now on. It would be a resounding win for Pelugia—and a resounding loss for Kadar. It would mean war.

And it would mean Haydn would lose his husband.

The thought was like a punch to the gut.

Haydn looked at Royce, into his solemn dark eyes. His handsome face was tense, but unlike Haydn’s father, he remained quiet, not even trying to pressure Haydn into making a decision.

Because he trusted Haydn.

He trusted him to make the right decision. His own decision.

Haydn’s throat closed up.

“Son,” Stefan said, his heavy, demanding gaze fixed on him.

He’d never said no when his father looked at him like that.

Could never do it.

Acutely aware of every person in the room looking at him with bated breath, Haydn took Royce’s hand and entangled their fingers together.

Everyone in the room seemed to inhale sharply.

Royce’s nostrils flared, his scent sharpening as he stared at Haydn.

Haydn could feel the glares directed at him from his father and the Pelugian nobles. He could practically feel the chasm growing between them. He knew he’d just become a traitor in their eyes. But it was a conscious choice. He knew what he was choosing. Who he was choosing.

“My father is mistaken,” Haydn said, tearing his eyes from Royce and looking at Lord Ksar. “My husband has been a huge proponent of peace from the beginning. Royce has never wanted our marriage to fail.”

“He’s lying,” Stefan snapped, all the warmth in his voice gone. “He’s lying,