Page 21 of Jon’s Desert Prince Dream

“Jonathan, I do not like how you came to us. All of you, I should say. We do not believe one man has the right to enslave another. We are all made equal under the gods. I do not know how to get that through the Orleansan king’s head. We’ve exchanged many letters discussing this very thing, but he clearly doesn’t understand still if he sent a dozen people to me.”

“No, nor will he likely understand a moral high ground.” I sighed. “Granted, I’ve never met the man, but he’s famous for his lavish spending and his excessive habits. Appealing to him from a moral standpoint won’t do much good. Speak to him where he really cares—his pocketbook.”

“We’ve tried that tactic before to little success, but maybe you hold the key to getting it through to them.” The king nodded once and then pointed to the empty seats next to him. “Sit there. I want your advice as I speak with the ambassador this evening.”

Um. All right…? I was not trained in diplomacy, though? For heaven’s sakes, I was a mortician’s son and a social outcast, what was I even doing here? To say I felt as out of place as a fish in a tree was an understatement. Still, the king looked at me with complete faith and I hated to disappoint him. I also, selfishly, wanted to confront Solomon at least once. I was owed that after what the man had put me through. I found my spine and gave him a nod. “Just don’t blame me if I say the wrong thing at a tempting moment.”

He threw his head back on a laugh. “I think we should not be pussyfooting around tonight. I’m quite angry with their latest tactic and I will make it known. Also, I think you’re due the chance to display your anger against Ambassador Solomon, so do not hold yourself back. The least you can do is speak your mind.”

I appreciated the king’s offer a lot. I would love to speak my mind against the asshole who had dragged me here against my will. An evil smile took over my face. “I humbly accept your offer.”

“For that matter, I’m going to have choice words with the man,” Prince Donovan rumbled. A wave of anger, bright and red, swept over his lines. “For now, shall we sit?”

I shifted over to the seat nearby. Really, the more I looked at it, it seemed like a giant armchair. Built very wide, it could accommodate two people easily, three in a pinch. Kanye and Alani were on our other side, sharing a chair already, propped up on various pillows. Wine was already being brought out, along with the first round of food—various cheeses, thinly sliced meats, and some sort of cracker? Olives, too. It looked delicious.

Prince Donovan assembled a cracker for me, with cheese and meat on it, before offering it. I took it, gingerly took a bite, and instantly fell in love. “Oh, that’s quite fun.”

“Don’t fill up on them,” he cautioned me, eyes twinkling. “Voice of experience. They’ll bring in truly amazing seafood for the next course, and you don’t want to miss that.”

“Warning taken. Still, I want another one.”

“Oh, sure, have several. Just pace yourself.”

It wasn’t so much a drastic sound, but more a noise of disbelief that caused me to pause. I looked to see where the strangled, choking sound came from, and realized the ambassador had arrived at some point, just in time to see a Prince of Havili hand-feed me.

Well, if that didn’t illustrate how badly this man had bungled negotiations, nothing would.

Solomon wore the best finery from our country, and it looked ridiculously out of place here. Black satin tunic and leggings, with stockings that went into polished black shoes. Expensive lace at his collar and the cuffs of his sleeves, and a garnet pin to hold his tie in place. The dark circles under his brown eyes were more pronounced than usual. He’d clearly been too upset to sleep, as I saw the sleep deprivation in his lines, and him powdering his black hair and trying to cover face blemishes with makeup only turned him more into the court jester.

I stood and I saw his eyes rove over me, his surprise shifting into incredulity as he realized I was dressed as finely as any prince in this room. I shifted the shawl so that it displayed more over my right arm, showcasing the elaborate embroidery and truly emphasizing how expensive it was. Then I stepped toward him, facing him directly.

“Ambassador Solomon,” I greeted coldly.

He spluttered, staring at me like I was the worst fear he had made flesh. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Because a Prince of Havili dressed me like this.” I cocked a brow at him, amused. He was really not getting the full picture, was he? “You made two very strategic errors. First, you insulted Tennoa by ignoring their moral code. They made it clear where they stood. Ignoring that was an incredibly stupid move.”

He flushed right to the tips of his ears and didn’t seem to know where to look.

“Second mistake you made was showing up here without an abject apology. It shows you still don’t get it. You really think that a country that chooses their leadership based on merit will give two flying fucks about birthrights? They do not regard your king as a superior being. They don’t think you’re superior, for that matter.”

Oh, he was angry now; right pissed off, in fact. Did I care? Not at all.

“If you want to trade with Tennoa, you have one last chance. Stop ignoring their moral code, stop trying to bribe them the way you would another country, and you might get somewhere.”

“Indeed,” the king drawled, his voice dripping sarcasm, “your job as an ambassador is to listen, is it not? It would be wonderful if you could actually do your job.”

From what I read of Solomon’s lines, he wouldn’t. His pride smarted already and he was the type to react emotionally and not logically.

I turned from him, and when I did, I caught the king’s eye and gave a small shake of the head. It was useless talking to this one. He was already doing the mental equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and drumming his heels on the floor.

The king’s anger kindled, and the glare he shot Solomon should have had the man crumpling to the floor and begging forgiveness, but instead, Solomon glared back. Truly, I could not understand how he failed to see that he stood on shifting sand. He was one bad remark away from being thrown out of here.

Solomon chose to ignore me and greeted the king. “Your Majesty, I realize we may have mis-stepped—”

“You insulted us,” Prince Donovan interrupted harshly. “After we told you this was insulting, no less. An apology is owed.”

Solomon visibly gritted his teeth before managing, “—for which I do apologize. I misunderstood you, it seems. I thought you prized psychics, which is why I arranged for some to be brought to you.”