Royal Recruit - Susan Grant Page 0,21

tear-filled. Jared tightened his abs. Whatever she was going to say couldn’t be good. “This has something to do with that message the aliens delivered to the space station, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes. They offered us a treaty—a peace treaty.”

Jared grinned. “Awesome.” His excitement faded the minute he saw Jana’s expression. If he wasn’t mistaken, she looked guilty. “Aren’t we supposed to be at least a little happy?”

Cavin stepped in. “The terms of the treaty are specific—in exchange for peace, they want you.”

He glanced from Cavin to Jana and back again. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Recall when you encountered the woman in the REEF’s fighter on the comm screen?”

“She’s been a little hard to forget,” he admitted.

Cavin slipped his phone from his pocket. He turned it around and showed Jared the screen. It was an official portrait, a royal portrait. A young woman dressed in ornate, multicolored robes sat on a throne. Her dark hair was coiled in braids wrapped with jewels and fabric, and piled on the top of her head. The picture was taken at some distance. Her oval face was pale. She looked very stiff, almost like a mannequin. If he had to guess, those clothes were pretty uncomfortable.

“She looks, ah, royal. Very nice. And I’m still confused.”

“You don’t recognize her?”

Jared honed in on her eyes. Haunted, they made her look as if she felt she were trapped and scared and had no other way to get the message out. But there was a spark of defiance too an attitude reflected in her stern little mouth. “Aw, hell,” he said.

It was the smokin’ hot alien babe.

The one he’d called a barbarian.

Cavin regarded him solemnly, and Jared knew the other shoe was about to drop. “The treaty is one of marriage to unite the royal families of Earth and the Coalition.”

“The queen of the galaxy wants to marry me?”

“Badly,” Cavin said. “And soon.”

Chapter Seven

In shock, Jared walked with Cavin, Jana, his father—freshly rushed in from Washington—and a bevy of secret-service agents across an expanse of emerald-green lawn. The Kentucky mansion belonged to software mogul Bill Bastian. Apparently, on short notice and needing discretion, a quick decision was made to use the billionaire’s palatial Kentucky home as a backdrop for Jared’s meeting with Coalition leaders. It was the closest to a palace they could come up with in a pinch. For future broadcasts, they had the Chinese premier’s residence and Buckingham Palace lined up. Earth’s prince had to look the part.

Jared squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. Whoever would have dreamed a little trash talking would land him in this dilemma? The woman believed him—actually believed he was prince of Earth! And who would have guessed she was the queen?

Jared figured the little stunt with the phantom space force had startled the Coalition, only he didn’t understand how much so until now. They’d offered up the only remaining member of their royal family in true Dark Ages fashion to unite the two sides as a way of canceling out Earth’s perceived threat. Only “offering” their queen wasn’t exactly how it was going down. It was more like the queen demanding him. Cleaned and pressed and tied up neatly with a pretty bow, he was the perfect gift, according to every world leader.

Jared frowned. They picked the wrong guy for this plan.

Go with the flow. Yeah, it was all he could do. He wanted to get out of the center of this hurricane and go home to his happy, normal life.

They entered the grand foyer. Twin sweeping spiral staircases soared in both directions. The floor was white marble shot through with black. A French king had never lived here, but it sure looked like it. Everything was either royal-blue velvet or had gilt touches, or both. It was a gaudy display of mind-boggling wealth. “This is the first impression we want to give these people?” Jared asked out the corner of his mouth.

“This is what our world leaders agreed on,” his father said.

Jana nodded. “We were too amazed that they came to a consensus and did it so quickly that we didn’t argue.”

A man hurried up to Jared and placed a hand on his velvet-clad shoulder. He wore an outfit flown in for the occasion by the king of Denmark and the stiff collar itched like hell.

The older gentleman grinning at him looked vaguely familiar. He wore a pin with the Chinese flag and spoke to Jared in Mandarin Chinese. His eyes watered. Tears? Something told Jared he wasn’t