Page 9 of The Prince's Wife

Even if hewasan option, why would she choose him over Bakhtiar? The crown prince? Nobody in their right mind chose the youngest and weakest over the oldest and most powerful.

So he smiled and talked about the history of the city, assisted by his beautiful concubines.

Who could read him far too well by the looks they gave him, the looks they exchanged, but that was just one of the many reasons he loved them.

When they passed through the city gates and into the great pavilion, they were immediately overwhelmed by people, especially children. Aradishir came into the city so often for speeches, ceremonies, and more that they knew him well—better than his siblings, whose work mostly kept them in the palace. Broken leg from misadventure notwithstanding.

Aradishir signaled the servants, who immediately left the carriage, climbed up onto stone stands meant for the purpose, and started tossing out the linen bags, which were caught eagerly by young and old alike, though most people had the decency to promptly hand them off to children too little to do any catching themselves. Inside the bags were sweets and a couple of coins.

When the bags were gone and the guards had sufficiently dispersed the crowd, they carried on, wending leisurely throughthe city as Aradishir and his concubines continued to relate its history.

Eventually, they stopped for lunch at a restaurant he tended to favor whenever he was in the city. It was also one of the few where his guards did not have to drive everyone else out; they merely took over the second floor, and Aradishir's staff assisted the restaurant staff, putting less pressure and strain on them.

They sat at a table near the balcony that spanned the length of the building, all three sets of doors slid open to let in a cool breeze. A server brought them wine, a cool, refreshing pale pink called Gentle Hour, and another brought some foods perfect for nibbling.

Aradishir nodded to Heydar to serve Relanya, leaving Javed to serve him and Merza to attend her companions.

"Tavamara is truly beautiful," Relanya said as she sipped the wine Heydar offered up. "Nothing at all like home. The colors, the air…everything is nearly the exact opposite of home, I love it."

"I'm surprised the heat does not bother you more," Merza said with a laugh. "That is what foreigners struggle with the most when they visit."

Relanya laughed with him. "It's not the extreme I'm used to, but if I can adjust to one, I can adjust to the other." She accepted another sip of wine then asked, "So how do the people know you so well, Your Highness? They seemed very excited it wasyouwho was in the city."

"I come here often, at least compared to the rest of my family, to give speeches and attend events related to my various charity works and such."

Javed chuckled as he offered Aradishir a sip of wine before finishing the rest himself and pouring more. "Yes, that's all it is. Nothing at all to do with how hard you work to fight thehuman trafficking that is the plague of this country, or the tales of how you rescued me, seduced away the son of the Commander of the Royal and City Guard, were taken in by the wiles of the only thief to successfully break into the royal palace more than once…"

Aradishir's face went hot. "Every last one of those tales has spun wildly out of control. The last I heard, I snuck into a shop where many people were being held prisoner and set them all free after a great fight against several enormous soldiers armed for war—" He threw up his hands. "I'm not even sure how that version ends, I grew so fed up hearing it."

Javed laughed so hard he had to set down the cup of wine he'd just picked up. It was Heydar who said drolly, "I believe my prince was in the process of removing the shackles of the prisoners when his eyes fell upon one in particular and he was instantly entranced, and Javed has not left your side since."

Relanya made no effort to contain or muffle her giggles. "Well, now I must hear the real story."

Before Aradishir could attempt to divert the conversation to something less humiliating, Javed happily launched into the tale, which of course led to stories of how he'd met Heydar and Merza as well.

When the torment finally ended, though, he earned another of those beautiful, heart-stopping smiles that made the rest of the world vanish. His stupid brother would probably never appreciate the beauty of them, how precious they were.

"What charming tales. I can see why everyone regards you so highly, Prince Aradishir," Relanya said. "You're an honor to your family and your people."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Aradishir said, warmth filling him even as his heart cracked. Already she spoke to him like a sister, like a queen. The reminder of the divide between them was sorely needed, but that didn't make it hurt less.

If Bakhtiar so much as looked at her wrong, Aradishir would break his nose, then break it again for good measure.

As the next course was brought out, including a lavender wine Aradishir was fond of called Summer Festival, Relanya said, "So tell me some stories of Prince Bakhtiar. You must have some great ones, and I'd like to learn all I can."

"Thatwould be my pleasure, Your Highness." Taking the sip of wine Merza offered, Aradishir then launched cheerfully into tales of Bakhtiar, interspersing good ones with those that would make Bakhtiar pout or scowl.

Eventually, though, as the second course was taken away and the main course brought out, he let Merza turn the conversation to other topics. "Have you given thought to what colors you'll have for the wedding?"

Relanya frowned slightly, head tilting. "What do you mean?"

"Did my mother not subject you to the wedding details?" Aradishir asked. "The bride chooses the theme and colors for the wedding."

"Oh. Um, no, Her Majesty said we could speak of it after the matter had been settled, that there was no sense in going on about it sooner. I never gave it much thought, assuming one wedding ceremony was much like another. Silly, in retrospect. Why does the bride choose? Surely as the royal family there must be certain requirements."

"I think every region of Tavamara has its own version of the tradition's origin, but the short, simple version is that as it was our Goddess who shaped the world, new beginnings—new worlds, after a fashion—should also be shaped by women. It's a sign of arrogance for a man to shape the wedding, the same way it's not a man's decision how many children his wife will bear."

Relanya looked for a moment like she might cry, but she blinked the almost-tears away and smiled softly instead. "Howbeautiful. That is not how women are viewed back home, not even close. We do what the men want, when they want, and how they want, and the best women are those who do not argue, but quietly and happily obey."

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