PRINCE RAYHAN AL SAIBBI was not looking forward to his next meeting. In fact, he was dreading it. After all, it wasn’t often he went against his father—the man who also happened to be king of Verdovia.
But it had to be done. This might very well be his last chance to exert any kind of control over his own life. Even if it was to be only a temporary respite. Fate had made him prince of Verdovia. And his honor-bound duty to that fate would come calling soon enough. He just wanted to try and bat it away one last time.
The sun shone bright and high over the majestic mountain range outside his window. A crisp blue stream meandered along its base. The pleasant sunny day meant his father would most likely be enjoying his breakfast on the patio off the four-seasons room in the east wing.
Rayhan found his father sitting at the far end of the table. Piles of papers and a sleek new laptop were mixed in with various plates of fruits and pastries. A twinge of guilt hit Rayhan as he approached. The king never stopped working. For that matter, neither did the queen, his mother. A fact that needed to be addressed after the events of the past year. Part of the reason Rayhan was in his current predicament.
This conversation wasn’t going to be easy. His father had been king for a long time. He was used to making the rules and expected everyone to follow them. Particularly when it came to his son.
But these days the king wasn’t thinking entirely straight. Motivated by an alarming health scare Rayhan’s mother had experienced a few months back and prompted by the troublesome maneuverings of a disagreeable council member, his father had decided that the royal family needed to strengthen and reaffirm their stability. Unfortunately, he’d also decided that Rayhan would be the primary vehicle to cement that stability.
His father motioned for him to be seated when he saw Rayhan approach.
“Thank you for seeing me, Father. I know how busy you are.”
His father nodded. “It sounded urgent based on your messages. What can I assist you with, son? Dare I hope you’re closer to making a decision?”
“I am. Just not in the way you might assume.”
Rayhan focused his gaze on his father’s face. A face that could very well be an older version of his own. Dark olive skin with high cheekbones and ebony eyes.
“I don’t understand,” his father began. “You were going to spend some time with the ladies in consideration. Then you were to make a choice.”
Rayhan nodded. “I’ve spent time with all three of them, correct. They’re all lovely ladies, Father. Very accomplished—all of them stunning and impressive in their own unique way. You have chosen well.”
“They come from three of the most notable and prominent families of our land. You marrying a prominent daughter of Verdovia will go far to address our current problems.”
“Like I said, you have chosen well.”
The king studied him. “Then what appears to be the issue?”
Where to start? First of all, he wasn’t ready to be wedded to any of the ladies in question. In fact, he wasn’t ready to be wedded at all.
But he had a responsibility. Both to his family and to the kingdom.
“Perhaps I shall choose for you,” the king suggested, his annoyance clear as the crisp morning air outside. “You know how important this is. And how urgent. Councilman Riza is preparing a resolution as we speak to propose studying the efficacy and necessity of the royal family’s very existence.”
“You know it won’t go anywhere. He’s just stirring chaos.”
“I despise chaos.” His father blew out a deep breath. “All the more reason to put this plan into action, son.”
The plan his father referred to meant the end of Rayhan’s life as he knew it. “It just seems such an archaic and outdated method. A bachelor prince choosing from qualified ladies to serve as his queen when he eventually ascends the throne.”
His father shrugged. “Arranged marriages are quite common around the world. Particularly for a young man of your standing. Global alliances are regularly formed through marriage vows. It’s how your mother and I wedded, as you know. These ladies I have chosen are very well-known and popular in the kingdom.”
Rayhan couldn’t argue the point. There was the talented prima ballerina who had stolen the people’s hearts when she’d first appeared on stage several years ago. Then there was the humanitarian who’d made the recent influx of refugees and their plight her driving cause. And finally, a councilman’s beautiful daughter, who also happened to be an international fashion model.
Amazing ladies. All of whom seemed to be approaching the king’s proposition more as a career opportunity than anything else. Which in blatant terms was technically correct. Of course, the people didn’t know that fact. They just believed their crown prince to be linked to three different ladies, and rumors abounded that he would propose to one of them within weeks. A well-calculated palace publicity stunt.
“As far as being outdated,” the king continued, “have you seen the most popular show in America these days? It involves an eligible bachelor choosing from among several willing ladies. By giving them weekly roses, of all things.” His father barked out a laugh at the idea.
“But this isn’t some reality show,” Rayhan argued. “This is my life.”
“Nevertheless, a royal wedding will distract from this foolishness of Riza’s.”
Rayhan couldn’t very well argue that point either. The whole kingdom was even now in the frenzied midst of preparing for the wedding of the half century, everyone anxious to see which young lady the prince would choose for himself. Combined with the festivities of the holiday season, the level of excitement and celebration throughout the land was almost palpable.
And Rayhan was about to go and douse it all like a wet blanket over a warming fire.
Bah humbug.
Well, so be it. This was his life they were talking about. He wanted to claim one last bit of it. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not this time. But this was a new experience for him. Rayhan had never actually willingly gone against the king’s wishes before. Not for something this important anyway.
“Well, I’ve come to a different decision,” he told his father. Rayhan made sure to look him straight in the eye as he continued, “I’ve decided to wait.”
The king blinked. Several times. Rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’d like to hold off. I’m not ready to choose a fiancée. Not just yet.”
“You can only postpone for so long, son. The kingdom is waiting for a royal wedding... We have announced your intention to marry. And then there’s your mother.”
Rayhan felt a pang of guilt through his chest at the mention of the queen. She’d given them all quite a scare last year. “Mother is fine now.”
“Still, she needs to slow down. I won’t have her health jeopardized again. Someone needs to help take over some of the queen’s regular duties. Your sisters are much too young.”
“All I’m asking for is some time, Father. Perhaps we can come to a compromise.”
The