Chapter 27
Joran couldn’t hide his surprise when he saw Tila step into the salon. He hadn’t mentioned this meeting with the crown prince, not wanting her to worry. She was from Uftar, after all. Technically, this bastard was her future ruler.
Plus, the man was handsome. Tila looked stunning in a vibrant blue dress, the fabric fluttering gracefully around her legs. Joran enjoyed the way the dress moved, how it highlighted her curves. Curves that he didn’t want disappearing, no matter how hard she tried to shed them. He knew she was trying to lose more weight. He’d have to beg her to stop.
Then Joran’s gaze landed on Marianna.
Red.
Why the hell was his seventeen-year-old sister wearing red? Had she not thought about the political implications of such a bold color? Red was powerful, defiant—meant to draw attention. And it was working.
Joran’s unease deepened when he noticed Marianna’s expression—a flash of shock, recognition, and something else. She was staring at the prince as if she knew him. That wasn’t possible. Was it?
Joran’s sharp gaze flicked to Prince Amit, and sure enough, the man seemed to have eyes only for Marianna. His posture remained composed, but there was a peculiar intensity in the way he studied her. Was it because of the dress? The cut was demure enough, but the color… That was like waving a flag in front of a charging bull. And Amit definitely looked like he was ready to charge.
Joran shifted his stance, the instinct to step between them almost overwhelming. His little sister was seventeen. And this man—what was he? Thirty? No. That wasn’t right. Joran mentally flipped through the information he knew about the prince. Twenty-five.
Still too damn old.
Khal, ever the composed one, cut through the tension. “You demanded this meeting,” he said, his voice flat. “How can we help you?”
Amit gave Marianna one last glance before stepping forward. “It has come to our attention that three citizens of Uftar were kidnapped and brought to Lativa.” His tone remained polite, but there was a blade-sharp edge beneath the civility. “After an extensive investigation, we discovered that there were actually two attempts that evening.”
He paused, looking directly at Joran. “One attempt was made by a bumbling idiot of a neighbor. However, that man described in great detail how an elite group of men prevented him from entering a woman’s home.” Amit’s voice held weight, each word carefully measured. “We were able to track that elite force here—to Lativa.”
Then he turned to Khal, his expression unreadable. “I am here to demand their return.” A pause, deliberate. “Immediately.”
The single word rang with undeniable menace.
Joran’s fury ignited, white-hot and explosive. “You’re not taking my fiancée or my sons!” he snarled, stepping forward, muscles coiled, fists clenched.
Amit’s gaze flicked to Joran’s tense hands, his dark brows lifting as if mildly intrigued.
“Interesting,” he murmured, almost as if he were mentally taking notes, cataloging their reactions. Then, as if this was all mere negotiation, he continued smoothly, his voice light, unbothered.
“Fine. We’ll trade.”
The room froze.
His gaze shifted back to Marianna. Pinning her in place.
“I’ll take her in exchange.”
The sharp inhale of collective gasps filled the air.
Crown Prince Amit had just suggested trading Tila and her babies… for Marianna.
The reaction was immediate.
“Get the hell out of here, you bastard!” Raj snapped, lunging forward. But before he could get closer, Joran shoved him aside, ready to tear into the prince himself.
“Stop!” Khal’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.
Everything halted.
Raj and Joran were bristling, poised to strike. But Amit? He stood completely still. Calm. Too calm.
His focus never left Marianna.
Marianna, who looked… afraid.
Joran’s gut twisted. His sister was staring at Khal now, silently pleading for him to not agree.
Khal’s expression hardened. “Get out,” he ordered. “Don’t you ever set foot in this country again.”
Amit barely reacted. His eyes remained on Marianna, watching. Waiting.
“And our citizens?” he asked, as if Khal’s command was a mere formality. His tone softened just a fraction, but the steel was still there. “I want assurances that the woman and her children will be treated well.”
Joran’s anger didn’t abate, but something in Amit’s wording made him pause.
“She will be treated with absolute respect and my sons will be raised to be strong, confident men,” Joran said, his voice dangerously low. “And we’d never give Marianna to you! She’s our sister! Not some bargaining chip to be traded.”
Amit finally looked away from Marianna, his gaze shifting to Joran. There was something satisfied in his expression.
“I see.”
The words were soft. Intentional.
Amit straightened, adjusted his cuffs, then glanced at Khal. His next words weren’t directed at anyone in particular, but they carried purpose.
“I’ll take my leave.”
He turned, striding from the room with the same deliberate ease he had walked in with, leaving only silence behind him.
Joran exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “What the hell just happened?”
Khal didn’t answer immediately. His gaze had shifted to Marianna, who still looked shaken. That wasn’t right. Had she really thought they would let her go?
Joran and Raj had reacted without hesitation. Had Marianna expected them not to?
Amit’s words echoed in Khal’s mind—not the demand, not the mockery.
I see.
A slow, unsettling realization settled over him.
The prince had never come here to take anyone.
He had come here to prove something.
And Marianna, standing separate from her brothers, alone even in a room full of family, had just learned that for herself.
Khal stepped forward, watching Amit leave, before he turned to the women. “Marianna, I’m so sorry!” he walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “You shouldn’t have had to see that, ya helwa .” He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I promise you’ll never have to deal with that man again.”
“I’m fine,” she assured Khal, but there was an odd expression in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, pulling back and looking up into his features. “Thanks for not selling me off in exchange for Tila and the twins.”
He laughed, shaking his head, stunned by the audacity of the man. “Never!” And he hugged her again, his arms gentle.
The sound of a baby crying broke up the moment and everyone turned to the still-open doorway.
“Why is Rafi out in the hallway instead of in our suite?” Tila demanded, and everyone froze!