Page 23 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
“How do you know I don’t live here?” I ask, our bodies drawing closer to each other until we’re shoulder to shoulder, more or less.
“You don’t act like you’re from here,” he says, and I must concede defeat.
“You’re correct. I’m Indian,” I say, and Mateo nods knowingly.
“Thought as much. You remind me of this actor I used to lo– Watch!” Mateo corrects himself quickly.
“Huh?” I ask, startled. He can’t be alluding to what I think, can he?
He shuffles side to side, bumping into me repeatedly, “Um, you know the Bollywood superstar? Mega hot, filthy rich Viktor something? He used to be in teen flicks? Yeah, I sort of had a crush on him. You sorta reminded me of him.”
I suppress a snort at that description. Was a handful of childhood and teenage movie appearances worthy of being called a Bollywood superstar? But more than anything, I latch onto “mega hot.” I guess he hasn’t seen me since my brief stint as a teenage heartthrob, but the fact that Mateo thought that version of me was hot immediately lights the blood in my veins on fire.
“Yes, I know of him,” I say, knowing he probably only knew me by my stage name, Viktor, rather than Crown Prince Ranbir Vikram, as a casual fanboy of mine in America wouldn’t be tracking my every move.
“What would you ask your idol?” I ask, bemused, tickled even. “If you could. I didn’t realize you were into those types of sappy rom-coms.”
He grins, eyes crinkling in the corner, and I notice the dimple on his right cheek for the first time. Damn, do I want to touch it, lick it, kiss…
Mateo interrupts my wayward thoughts, “Idol is pushing it. Fanboy, well… Let’s just say he got me through some hard times.”
“Hard times?” I lean in, our bodies pressed together again, since I crave his warmth.
“When my mama and papa passed away,” Mateo sucks in a sharp breath, blinking, scrunching his nose before his voice drops an octave, “...when they were murdered, I found myselfdrowning in anything that gave me a bit of pleasure—and I became a dopamine addict. Romance became my quick fix when I was little. Any type, movies, books, fanfic, you name it. And when I was older, I dated anyone who gave me some attention, a little affection went a long way with me. But Viktor was my go-to sanctuary, especially in his last film, when his mother dies. That scene always makes me sob.”
My blood runs cold. My mother was killed shortly before my last film. Those tears on set had been real. Mateo’s expression becomes pensive as he nibbles on his lip. I want to reach out, to comfort him, to chase away the pain in his eyes—haunted eyes, just like mine.
“What would you ask him if you met?” I ask again, shooting a withering glare at the portly man and his sneering partner, trying to flag Mateo down for a drink.
“I’d ask him why you wanted the throne so much? You could be anything you wanted. So why be the future king if everyone and everything were against you as an illegitimate heir? I know he didn’t write the script, but I’d love to know his thoughts getting into character,” Mateo says.
I freeze, unable to process the indirect questions leveled at me.
Why do I want the throne?
I have never considered the why; I have only considered the how. How to maintain my status, navigate treacherous court politics, uphold tradition, and survive. How, how, how, never why. And I’ve never actually considered giving it up. For one, my pettiness wouldn’t allow my mother to be usurped by a greedy concubine. However, in all honesty, my mother only cared about her subjects, never the throne. Why is it so important to me to protect her honor when she wouldn’t have done the same?
Why am I after the stone? Why must we murder each other because of it? The Stone is tradition and tradition is law, unquestioned. That’s why. But is that enough of a reason,especially since the Viper’s Stone has not shown it’s true power since the rule of Vikram the Great? It’s largely ceremonial now, and yet, because the ruling clan must possess it to rule because of tradition, I am on a crash course to kill my relatives over it.
It’s madness! Madness, frankly, I don’t have to succumb to. I could give it all up, maybe abdicate properly, and order those loyal to me to protect the twins, until one of them is ready to rule. But then why did I cross the ends of the earth to find the stone and restore my mother’s treasures?
And then what? What if I do just that? Am I destined to waste away as a security guard at a hotel? That seems more probable by the day.
“Um, Earth to Ranbir?” he asks, waving his hand in my face. “You alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I have something to tell you,” I blurt out, knowing that one thing still separates us more than the invisible walls surrounding our hearts.
“I’m not a fan of drawn-out miscommunication, despite how stuck we’ve been talking past each other, Mateo, my…” I pause, stunned by the fact that my mate almost slipped from my forked tongue. I don’t know if it’s the champagne or what, but I must stop thinking foolishly. That was just a slip of the tongue. I need to relax.
Mateo looks up at me quizzically, “What’s the misunderstanding? That we’re both into art and didn’t tell each other? We just got on speaking terms, Ranbir. We’re over everything else. Stop bringing it up.”
“No, aboutme.Aboutus,” I murmur, trying not to stumble over my words like some inept teenager confessing to their first crush.
“Um… Alright, I’ll hear you out. What?” he asks again, leaning closer.
“I think I misunderstood you. And I think it’s time you knew the truth. I’ll provide compensation for accusing you, once I reclaim…” I trail off as Mateo’s eyes widen in shock.
“What? You work as a security guard, and I’m a barista. Look, man, you didn’t call the police on me for nearly knocking you out–” I cut him off.
