scent-blocker messed with his own senses, too, making them duller—something he usually didn’t mind at all, but now he would have liked to be able to determine Taube’s intentions through his scent.
But that would have been too easy. He hadn’t gotten as far as he had by relying on his instincts.
So he remained calm and waited. Taube would get to the point eventually.
And eventually, he did.
“You were there when I told the Senate about the ultimatum the Galactic Council had given us,” Taube said, looking at him intently. His gaze was serious now. “So I will not bore you with the particulars again. You’re one of the few senators who actually understand the seriousness of the situation.”
Royce said nothing.
Taube sighed. “I know most of the Senate doesn’t trust the Pelugians to actually maintain the peace. That’s why I suggested a diplomatic marriage between a prominent member of the Senate and someone from Pelugia’s nobility. To my surprise, the Galactic Council representative supported my idea, and he already secured King Stefan’s agreement.”
“That’s good,” Royce said. As someone whose estate was close to the border between Pelugia and Kadar, he had always been an outspoken supporter of peace.
Taube nodded. “Indeed. King Stefan’s only condition was that I must choose a beta to represent Kadar.”
Royce’s blood pressure spiked. “Your Excellency?”
The prime minister looked him in the eyes. “I’m asking you to do it for your country, son. You know better than anyone how ravaged Kadar is by this never-ending war.”
Royce’s first instinct was to refuse.
Of course he wanted to refuse.
But then he thought of his mother’s red-rimmed, fearful eyes every time Royce’s younger brother failed to message her from the front line. He thought of his pretty omega sister, living in the house so close to the border that it could be overrun by the Pelugian army any day. Royce’s lands were heavily guarded, but security guards would be nothing against an army. And one day the army would come. They had just been lucky that the Pelugia-Kadar border was very long and all the major battles happened away from Cleghorn—so far. One day, their luck would run out.
But peace, if it actually held this time, could put an end to it once and for all.
He’d made bigger sacrifices for his family. What was one more?
Royce’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I will do it, Your Excellency.”
Taube grinned widely. “I knew I could count on you, Royce. Truth be told, you were the only candidate I could think of who is a beta and is high-profile enough to marry a prince. Everyone in the Senate respects you, and the press loves you—”
“A prince?” Royce cut him off, stiffening. “You mean Prince Haydn Schaefer?”
Taube blinked. “Of course! Do you know any other prince? The Schaefers have only one prince since King Stefan’s eldest son died.” He cocked his head to the side and studied him with shrewd eyes. “Is something the matter? Do you have any objections to Prince Haydn?”
Royce barely suppressed an instinctive growl, already regretting agreeing to this without asking who the other party was.
Haydn Schaefer. He was known by many names. His reputation preceded him, even in Kadar, maybe especially in Kadar. The Golden General. The Death Bringer.
And an alpha.
“No objections,” Royce ground out, because any objections to marrying the prince would sound ridiculous—and suspicious. Prince Haydn was a media darling. He was exceptionally handsome, athletic, and by all accounts, he possessed a brilliant mind for strategy. It was mostly thanks to his efforts the Pelugian army was able to secure six Kadarian counties in the past few years.
A beta wouldn’t have any objections to marrying such a fine specimen of an alpha.
The problem was, he was no beta.
But he couldn’t backtrack now. His political career would be ruined if he admitted that his presentation documents had been falsified—not to mention the legal trouble his mother would be in. No matter how angry he was with her, Royce had to protect her.
His mind racing, Royce looked down at his hands. He found his fingers clenched so hard his knuckles stood out white against his sun-bronzed skin. He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to relax.
It wasn’t necessarily a disaster. It would be a political marriage, a means for good publicity, and meant to convince the hesitating senators that the peace would be sustainable—and to ensure that the Pelugians wouldn’t stick a knife in their backs.
So in theory, the prince’s designation didn’t change anything.
Royce nearly laughed at himself. Who was he kidding?