Gra’eth eyes go wide and he stutters, “Y–your Majesty, I think if you just review the list, you’ll find a more suitable candidate.”
Ke’ain places his palm onto Gra’eth’s chest and says, “You’re who I trust the most, discussion over,” before walking past the dumbfounded attorney and leading me to the pair of ornate chairs and the head of the table.
As we sit, Gra’eth straightens his sleeve, takes a deep breath, and makes his way to the chair on the other side of my betrothed.
“Now that we have that sorted, our next order of business is my marriage to Opal. Opal...” He turns to me, his face flushing blue, embarrassed.He doesn’t know my last name.
“Opal May Legare,” I whisper to him as I squeeze his hand. Surnames seem so unimportant after the misadventures we’ve had.
“Opal May Legare and I will be married—only then will the coronation take place.”
Everyone seated at the table whispers, and the disapproval in the room is palpable. There’s only one face at the table that displays anything beyond confusion or disgust, and that’s Gra’eth’s.
“I think that’s an excellent plan, my King,” Gra’eth says as he folds his arms over his chest and settles back in his chair. The other fi’len sit slack-jawed, but say nothing.
I turn to my alien. “Do your other council members take issue with our marriage?” I ask him in a hushed tone. Their faces lead me to believe this will not be an easy transition.
“If the hand sees it fit, who are we to question the king?” a weathered fi’len sitting next to Gra’eth says as he bows his head.
This is too easy.Why on Earth, I mean Sontafrul 6, is everyone suddenly cool with me? Why is Gra’eth enthusiastically on board withthe human Opalbeing his queen? I eye him suspiciously as he smiles to himself. The damn stick in the mud looks like he’s on cloud nine.
“Gra’eth, you’re okay with me as your queen?” I ask, leaning over my future husband's broad chest with eyebrows raised.
He turns his head lazily toward me, his eyes soft. “Who am I to deny Ke’ain his mate?”
I narrow my eyes, still skeptical of the lack of his usual bitching.God, what’s wrong with me?I know I should be fine with something finally coming easy to me...but it feels wrong.
Quit letting your life be a fucking sob story
I force a broad smile and address the council. “Thank you for allowing me this great honor. I hope to learn how I can best serve this beautiful planet.”
They let their expressions soften, but I know they're still dubious about me.
“Should we find out any of Opal’s human customs to include in the ceremony?” Gra’eth inquires.
Again, since when does he give a shit about my human customs?
“Saint Beyonce maybe?” Ke’ain elbows me. I fucking love that doofus.
“No, let’s stick with the ceremony you would normally do. I’ll need to learn your customs to rule these people. Maybe this is a good first step.”
Ke’ain beams at me. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Opal. Let me handle everything.”
As Ke’ain rises from his seat, so do the other men surrounding me. I place my hand on his before he can leave.
“Should we, well,” I drop my eyes, “should we discuss your parent’s funeral arrangements?”
Ke’ain seems confused at my question at first. I assume his translator chip is attempting to catch up.
“Funerals.” Ke’ain taps the side of his head where his chip would be implanted. “Fi’len don’t have funerals, Opal. Their bodies were immediately returned to the sacred waters. We will honor them by living as happily as we can.”
“I’ll do my best. We’ve got lots of preparations for your coronation once we get back, I assume.”
“What preparations would be made? After the wedding, I’ll be crowned and so will you.”
The fi’len are anything if not an expedient and practical species—I’ve always hated funerals anyway.
* * *
