Page 50 of The Reluctant Queen
He looped the room a few more times as he updated his brother on the Duke of Kashoorcih’s recent dealings.
Nekash reached the same conclusion their mother had made, orperhaps he’d already known. For all his faults, he was an intelligent man. “If Mum’s spies are correct, and Yusuf has swung Rohapavol and Napivol, we have fourteen votes, and Yusuf has eleven. So, if you lose Lord Kahoth and Stormhill, Lady Hevva Tilevir and Kabuvirib, or Lord Yaranbur and Midlake, we’re done.”
“Precisely.”
“Well, shit.” He rolled off the couch to stand, and cracked his neck, before thumping back down into the seat. “I’m mad too.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
Ehmet wasn’t sure what prompted it, but suddenly, he was unloading everything that had happened over the past month, since meeting Hevva at the symposium to his failed proposal the night before. He did spare his brother some of the finer details, including their secret personas. “She said, ‘What of love?’”
“No!? What did you say?”
“I said something about how love doesn’t make for a successful marriage.”
Nekash slapped his knee with his free hand. “Quite right, brother. Quite right. We should know.” He took a long drink of his liquor.
“Precisely.” With the weight on his chest somewhat diminished, Ehmet halted his steps and sat on a chair across from Nekash.
“Love causes nothing but trouble. Best to take what you need. I find that the mutually beneficial sort of agreements are best. Why do you think I keep so many ladies in waiting?” The prince finished his drink, and took his glass, along with Ehmet’s, to the bar for refilling.
“Yes, and love is so far from mutually beneficial.” The king chuckled darkly, visions of childhood flickering in his mind. “It’s lopsided.”
“Like Dad with Mum.” Nekash returned with their drinks.
“Dad felt everything too strongly. Do you remember when he punched that maid?” Ehmet asked, swirling his whiskey.
“Which time? The tooth thing, or the delegation?”
“I was thinking about the delegates from the Newand Principality. I forgot about the tooth thing—not permanently, just for a momentthere.” He shook his head against the onslaught of unpleasant memories. Conversing about it always seemed to help.
“Poor Mum.”
“With the tooth situation? Poor Mum? Poor Yasmin! Dad knocked her damn molar out!”
“Yes,obviouslyI feel bad for her. Itwasa loose tooth already.”
“She was twelve!”
“True. True. But do you recall how Mum went to stand from the table to help Yasmin and—”
“Dad yanked her back down by her hair. Yes...I remember.” Ehmet sighed, not adding the additional details aloud. They both remembered how the former king pulled his wife down so hard her head cracked against the arm of his chair, blood spattering their father’s pristine cravat, enraging him further. That was the night the young princes learned they couldnotcry in front of King Hethtar the Third, or they’d have their teeth knocked out too.
“He was tough on everyone, but the worst on Mum.”
“True,” he agreed. “Never?”
“Never.” Nekash nodded solemnly.
It was a regular pact they renewed, the lengthy words of which hadn’t been needed in years. They would never lose their temper in such a fashion, they would never hit a child, or a woman, oranyoneunprovoked. They would never lose themselves to paranoia. They wouldneverbe like Dad.
“Do you recall when he decided Mum was having an affair with the last Baron of Kashuvol?” Nekash balled his hand into a fist.
“Gods, that was insane. She’d only spoken to him for all of ten minutes at my birthday celebration.”
“Ten minutes too many. I thought Dad was going to murder the baron.”
