Modern Romance November 2015 Books 1-4. Trish Morey

didn’t. Or he could never force her into this. And he was forcing her. He was.

      She was amazed at the way the crowd parted for him. No one touched either of them as they wove their way through the knot of people. They walked into the ballroom, toward the most opulent and beautifully appointed table. She recognized King Kairos immediately. You could hardly forget the man you’d been trotted out in front of as one of your country’s desirable exports. Sitting next to him was a woman she hadn’t seen yet. Blonde, poised, beautiful beyond measure. She was polished until she nearly glowed.

      Suddenly, Zara could see why Andres thought she was feral.

      In comparison to this woman, who had to be Queen Tabitha, almost anyone would appear feral. Her movements were fluid, her posture impeccable. Even her facial expressions seemed easy, smooth. She smiled at everyone with ease, looking perfectly genuine at every moment. Even when she rested, she simply looked serene. Never bored. Not tired, or upset.

      Andres pulled her chair out for her, and she sat.

      Tabitha turned her focus to Zara, and Zara saw for the first time the ice beneath the crystal-blue gaze. Tabitha was made of stronger stuff than she first appeared to be.

      “Tabitha,” Andres said, “this is my fiancée, Princess Zara. I’m not sure if Kairos filled you in. He played matchmaker.”

      Zara nearly choked.

      Tabitha turned to look at her husband, her expression bland. “No. Kairos didn’t tell me. I’m a bit surprised that he’s responsible. He’s not usually one for romance.”

      “Who said anything about romance?” Kairos asked.

      Zara had no experience with these kinds of relationships. But she could recognize when people were circling each other. When they were holding back anger, spoiling for a fight. It was happening here.

      Tabitha smiled, and this was the first time Zara could see how forced it was. The facade didn’t hold up as well under close scrutiny.

      She felt as though she was looking into her future. Shackled to a man who couldn’t possibly be more bored with her existence. Pretending to be happy and serene when inside she wanted nothing more than to stand up and scream.

      Manipulated by fate. Living a life beside someone who was entirely set apart from her.

      The more she faced the possibility of a life without choice, the more she saw just how unhappy she’d been for a long time.

      She’d been able to ignore it because there had always been a glimmer of hope for the future. A different future. One that was what she made it, rather than one she was forced into. And so she’d endured the silence. The distance. Because she’d imagined there would be something more later.

      She looked again at Kairos and Tabitha, at the yawning gulf that was so clearly between these two people who sat right next to each other.

      And then she picked up her fork. And dropped it back onto the plate. The clatter, loud and satisfying, startled everyone seated at the table. Zara smiled. “Sorry.”

      She wasn’t sorry. Not in the least.

      She wasn’t going to go quietly. She wasn’t going to accept this blandly. She had choices. And this was clearly a moment she had to seize. If Andres wouldn’t listen to her, then she would use Kairos and Tabitha and their clear need for decorum above all else.

      If he was only marrying for Kairos’s sake, then she would make Kairos want her gone.

      As long as they didn’t return her to her captors, she would find her way.

      She felt the hard, warm pressure of Andres’s hand on her thigh and she turned to look at him. His eyes were hard. Warning.

      But she wasn’t so easily intimidated.

      She returned his glare with one of her own, and a slow smile she knew he wouldn’t believe sincere. “Is there a problem, Andres?”

      “Not in the least,” he said, his tone soft. Deceptively so.

      Just as he didn’t believe her smile, she did not believe his calm. “I’m pleased to hear that.”

      He squeezed her thigh. “You’re quite docile.”

      She looked up at him again, fluttering her lashes. “I am. Quite.”

      “You had best remain so,” he said, lowering his voice.

      “Of course, my dear.”

      Moments later the waitstaff swept into the room, carrying trays laden with food. They set the small salad plates down on the larger plates. But they had to pause over hers as the fork was still sitting in the center of it. She moved it, smiling sweetly at Andres, who was eyeing her with suspicion.

      He had every right to be suspicious. She was going to misbehave.

      She ate the salad with very little ceremony. Not pausing in her attack of the lettuce to make polite conversation as everyone else at the table did.

      She noticed Andres watching her out of the corner of his eye and lifted her thumb to her mouth to lick up a drop of dressing that wasn’t really there.

      Rage flared in his dark gaze, but he could do nothing. Not here. The realization sent a surge of power through her. She was unpredictable, and in this setting, that was probably quite unsettling.

      “Oh,” she said, watching the next trays approach. Her voice was low, and only Andres could hear her, as Tabitha and Kairos were talking to other people. “Chicken. That’s delightful. I really could gnaw on the bones if I chose...”

      “Do not test me, Zara,” he said, his tone matching hers. “You will not like the result.”

      “Is that so?”

      “Very.”

      “It seems to me,” she said, eyeing her food as it was placed in front of her, “that you did not think before testing me. Putting a ring on my finger right before we entered the room, when I told you I wasn’t ready to commit to marriage.”

      She reached down and picked at the piece of chicken with her fingers, keeping her eyes locked with his as she did.

      He picked up her plate and in one swift movement, lowered it from the table and dumped the contents into a potted plant by the table.

      “Bastard!” She whispered the invective.

      “Terror,” he shot back.

      “I’m hungry.”

      No one seemed to notice what was happening, which was very annoying, since she’d intended to make a small scene. But one that looked...accidental. Not standing on chairs and causing a ruckus. She wanted to look as though she was trying to be suitable but couldn’t manage it because she imagined if she made it clear she was being contrary on purpose Kairos—were he anything like his brother—would only dig in harder.

      “You ate your salad fast enough.”

      “I am not to be trifled with.”

      “And you think I am?” he asked, leaning in, his breath hot on her neck. “I am a monster,” he said, keeping his words so soft no one else could hear them. It would look to anyone else like lovers lost in conversation. “I drove my own mother out of the palace with my behavior. Do you truly want to test me? You have nowhere to run.”

      He moved away from her, straightening in his chair and flashing a charming smile. “Clearly you were very hungry, agape,” he said, drawing attention to her empty plate.

      Everyone looked at her and she looked down at her plate. “I ate it so quickly you’d think I’d just...dumped it into a potted plant,” she said.

      “We can pass on your compliments to the chef,” Tabitha said, clearly trying to smooth things over and make it so everyone wasn’t staring at her.

      Tabitha was blessed with