Chapter 26
Khal stood beside Joran and Raj as they watched the pompous ass walk into the salon. Khal had chosen this room on the advice of his wife—Tasha had urged a smaller, more private setting for their initial meeting with the crown prince. But that hadn’t stopped the three brothers from standing like sentries, unconsciously bracing themselves for anything the man might do.
“His Highness, Crown Prince Amit el Sandir of Uftar,” the butler announced before stepping back.
Khal watched as the man strode into the center of the room, radiating confidence, unbothered by the formidable trio facing him. But then the prince’s gaze shifted—to the left.
Khal followed it.
His breath hitched as he caught sight of Tasha, looking stunning in a petal-pink dress with a playful flounce at the hem, her dark hair twisted elegantly into something that made her look every inch the queen she would have been in another time. Damn, she was gorgeous.
Then he spotted Tila, walking gracefully beside her. The blue silk of her dress fluttered like water around her slender legs, a delicate contrast to her usual sharp wit and no-nonsense demeanor. She looked effortlessly lovely, composed—
And then Marianna stepped in.
Khal felt the shock hit him like a punch to the gut.
His baby sister. In red.
It wasn’t the demure cut of the dress that stunned him. It was the color. Red was bold. Confident. Stunning. It wasn’t the shade of rebellion, like the streaks of electric blue and neon green she’d once dyed her hair. It wasn’t the careless defiance of torn jeans and combat boots she had stomped around in during her most difficult years.
No. This was different.
This was a statement.
And she looked breathtaking.
For a moment, Khal couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, his mind struggling to reconcile the image before him with the little sister who had once scowled at every diplomatic function, arms crossed, daring anyone to correct her.
He felt his jaw tighten, his protective instincts surging forward, his fury rising for no logical reason.
Why the hell was she wearing that color?
Not now. Not for a first meeting with a foreign prince. She should know better! A soft blue, a pale pink, even an elegant ivory would have been more appropriate—something quiet, something safe! But red?
Red was a challenge. Red was power. Red was danger.
Something deep inside him growled at the thought of any man—especially this prince— looking at Marianna and seeing what Khal was only just now realizing.
She wasn’t a rebellious girl anymore.
She was becoming a woman.
Khal clenched his fists, struggling to suppress the instinctive, irrational urge to drag a cloak over her shoulders, to make her less… visible.
But he could already hear Tasha’s laughter in his head, the teasing glint in her eyes as she’d remind him, in no uncertain terms, that Marianna was not a child anymore.
Still, his protective rage coiled in his gut.
He shuddered, already contemplating what his wife might say if he dared to point out that red was entirely inappropriate.
Then again… maybe he would say it.
Just to enjoy the punishment Tasha would undoubtedly inflict.
Because if there was one thing Khal had learned about his wife, it was that she had very creative ways of expressing her disapproval.
And at least that, he could enjoy.