âWhat do you mean I have to marry her?â AJ Rahia tried to keep his voice down. Waiters passed out champagne, and the polite hum of conversation buzzed in his ears. The woman in question stood only a few yards away, in the well-dressed crowd of mourners at the wake.
His mother took his hand between her two soft ones. âItâs your duty. If the king dies, one of his brothers must marry the royal widow.â
The carved walls of the old palace seemed to close in on him. âThatâs ridiculous. Itâs the twenty-first century. And Iâm sure she doesnât want to marry me any more than I want to marry her.â He resisted the urge to turn and glance at the petite young widow he hadnât even seen since her wedding five years earlier.
His mother tilted her head and spoke softly. âSheâs as sweet as she is beautiful.â
âMom!â
âAnd I have no other sons.â
AJ stiffened. Something had happened during his own birth that left his mom unable to have more children. Just another burden of guilt that settled uncomfortably back on his shoulders each time he returned to Rahiri.
Heâd just arrived for his brotherâs funeralâor whatever you called it when there was no bodyâand already his ticket back to L.A. was burning a hole in his pocket.
âIâm sure sheâll want to mourn for at least a year before she thinks about marrying again.â He rested his hand on his momâs shoulder. She was so tiny. Or he was so huge. He resisted a powerful urge to hug this very demanding but fiercely loving woman. âThen youâll find the perfect husband for her.â
âYou canât choose a king.â His mother looked up, her eyes imploring. âA king is born.â
âAnd I wasnât born to be king. Most people are convinced I was born to direct big-budget action movies, which is why they give me so much money for it.â
His mom waved her hand, dismissive. âChildâs play and you know it.â She took his hand and squeezed it between her palms. âCome home. You belong here, and we need you.â
He ignored the tightening in his chest. âTo rule the country? I donât think so. How about Cousin Ainu? Heâs always trying to run everything. Heâd be thrilled.â
His mom narrowed her eyes, which caused her mascaraed lashes to clump together. âThe Rahia family has ruled Rahiri for as long as anyone can remember. That chain of tradition cannot be broken.â
âChange can be good.â He didnât sound as convincing as heâd hoped. âOut with the old, in with theâ¦â He stopped in horror as his momâs usually sharp black eyes filled with tears. âIâm sorry, that was insensitive of me. I didnât mean that Vanuâs death was⦠wasâ¦â
A good thing?
Though it had been his first thought when heâd heard the news.
On the other hand, if he was suddenly expected to fill his brotherâs narrow designer shoes, it was a very bad thing.
âI know, sweetheart. You canât help speaking your thoughts. You were always like that, wild, free-spiritedââ
âAnd totally unsuitable to be a monarch.â
He wasnât quite such a wild child as his reputation suggested, but the image could work in his favor now.
âCome talk to Lani.â His momâs lipsticked smile did nothing to mask the steely determination in her eyes. AJ glanced around. Hopefully none of the gathered mourners had any idea of her intentions. Especially his brotherâs widow.
She pulled him across the room with a pincer grip on his hand, pink nails digging into his flesh. âLani, dear, you remember AJ? Vanuâs younger brother.â
Panic flashed in the young womanâs eyes. âY-yes,â she stammered. âYes, of course I do. Pleased to meet you again.â A forced smile quivered on her lips.
She knew.
And was horrified.
AJ extended his hand and shook hers. Her fingers trembled against his palm. Small and slight, she was wrapped in a traditional blue mourning dress, partially covered by her long, loose hair. Heâd remembered her unusual eyesâgold-brown, like polished tortoise-shellâbut not the haunted look in them.