“Thank you again, Your Highness, and may you both experience bliss as you move toward your wedding day.”

“Thank you, Jericho. I’m sure we’ll be doing more of these as time goes on.”

“I certainly hope so. Thank you again.”

Jasmina stepped ahead of Jenson, making an exit from the library on her own. As he fell in step beside her, his phone rang in his back pocket, and he pulled it out to see who was calling.

“I should take this. Is there a room I can use?”

Jasmina waved to a side room, and Jenson nodded his thanks before answering the call and stepping inside, leaving the door open.

“Johnny Boy. How’s it hanging, bro?”

Jasmina continued walking, but something in her stopped her feet. Jenson’s voice was leaking out into the hallway, and she found herself curious as to what he was like when talking with his friends. Taking a few small steps back, she hovered outside the door.

Jenson laughed heartily.

“You watched the interview, huh? How’d I look?”

When his friend clearly said something unflattering, Jenson scoffed at him.

“Lies. You know I looked great. What’s that? Oh, yeah, absolutely. Quite the hot piece of royal ass, isn’t she? Talk about having my cake and eating it too. I’m going to be a sheikh with a stunner for a wife. No one is going to top me after this. I might be rich now but things are about to get stratospheric.”

Jasmina’s blood turned cold as she listened to his crass conversation. Fortunately, it didn’t last much longer.

“Hey, I gotta go, but let’s grab lunch next time I’m in New York, okay?”

He ended the conversation, and Jasmina gave herself to the count of five to calm down before she pressed the door all the way open. Jenson turned, his eyebrow lifting at her expression.

“If you’re going to have conversations like that with the door open, this engagement is going to end far sooner than you think. If we’re discovered, you don’t have a foot to stand on.”

Jenson glanced at the door and shrugged.

“Oops,” he said, completely unapologetic.

“Beyond that, and the fact that you don’t seem to care that you’ve just degraded your future wife to some frat buddy of yours, I would highly recommend that you search for any kind of morals you may have and apply them, fast.”

Jenson shrugged again, his expression growing hard.

“This is what you signed up for, honey. I am who I am, and I’m not about to change for you or anyone else. Better get used to it now; the sooner you accept me, the sooner we can be real about what this marriage really is.”

Jasmina imagined smoke coming out of her ears, but she kept her cool. That was her job, after all. Flying off the handle wasn’t a luxury she was afforded.

“I see. With that it would seem our time today has come to an end, then. Do try and keep the door closed when you feel the need to debase me to your friends moving forward. And I will do my best to treat you like the object you are, in the spirit of equality. Goodbye, Mr. Black.”

She turned from the room, making long strides to get away from him as quickly as possible. She thought she heard him call out her name, but it was likely just her imagination. Jenson Black had never cared about anyone above himself, and even as she had grown to see some semblance of a softer side to him every so often, it was clear that it wasn’t enough to overtake the beast he really was.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Jasmina struggled to breathe, her dress suddenly like a strait jacket, choking the life out of her. She was trapped, unable to break out of the wedding deal for the same reasons she had agreed to go along with it. Without Asha to help her, Jasmina struggled out of the garment, freeing herself after several minutes of cursing and crying. As she tumbled out of the gown, she sat on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling as though she might find answers there.

She tried to focus on the greater good of it all. She wasn’t doing all of this without reason. She was doing it because she loved her country and her people, and she needed to make sacrifices because it was what she was born to do. Her mind drifted to the past, when her father had been there to act as her mentor.

He had guided her for so many years. When Jasmina hit her early teen years, the Sheikh began allowing her to sit in on council meetings. She remembered one day when things had been particularly tense, due to a threat from the east.

“The armies of Al Jona are mobilizing, Your Highness. We must act quickly!”

The Sheikh sat in silent contemplation as he read through the paperwork his top general had brought. He had told Jasmina before the meeting began that the general was thirsty for war, but it was important to be mindful that his information could have merit. After some time, the Sheikh lifted his head.

“And what is your recommendation, General?”

“My recommendation is that we supply our troops and send them to the border to prepare for war. We must protect El Jayiah at all costs!”

“At all costs? Even at the cost of the lives of our people?”

“If we want to save countless others, then yes!”

“And yet the threat has not yet arrived. Tell me why I should commit an act of aggression without just cause.”

The general glared at the Sheikh, formulating his argument.

“Because if we do not, Your Highness, and the enemy was to invade, then we would be personally responsible for the deaths of thousands.”

The Sheikh continued to stare at the papers, contemplating. Jasmina watched him intently, wondering what he would do next. He sighed, his shoulders heavy.

“Very well. Mobilize the troops, station them at the border, but do nothing else. If you make an act of aggression, rather than an act of defense, I will personally see to it that you never work in our armed forces again. Am I understood, General?”

The general continued to frown, but he nodded, satisfied that he had gotten what he came there for. After he left, the council dispersed, but the Sheikh held the royal treasurer, Bayim, back. Once the door was closed, they were safe to talk.

“Your Highness?”

“I need to you remove funds from the royal line to fund those troops.”

Bayim’s eyes widened.

“Sir? Are you certain? That money hasn’t been touched in decades.”

“And yet it is the only fund we can take from that won’t affect our people.”

“It will affect you, and your legacy. What if the monarchy runs out of funds? How will we sustain you and your family?”

“You let us worry about that. Besides, I don’t truly believe we will be invaded, which means the spending should be miniscule…at least by national spending standards.”

There was a slight tilt to his lip, not quite a smile. Jasmina knew that look well. Her father wasn’t really smiling, at least not on the inside.

Bayim considered the Sheikh for a moment longer before acquiescing with a nod of his head.

“I will transfer the funds as needed, and will keep you informed of what is happening with them.”

“Keep a good eye on them, Bayim. I would hate to hear of any overspending by the general.”

Bayim’s expression was somber.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

He made his exit then, casting a sideways glance at Jasmina; the council still didn’t quite know what to do with her there—a teenager sitting among the most powerful men in the country, hearing national secrets. As Bayim closed the door, Jasmina stood and walked to her father’s side.

“Why did you do that? There had to be other funds to go to that project. The state is doing fine financially.”

The Sheikh kept his eyes on the desk, but after a long pause he finally looked into his daughter’s eyes.

“Yes, perhaps we could have done that, but it is not that simple, Jasmina. Everything in our economy is connected. If we take from someone else’s pile to fund military action, suddenly we will have people on our doorstep that we hadn’t considered. It is important not to act rashly, not to take when money has already been given. It isn’t just money, after all. It is services, help, things that people need. Someday, you will grow to understand this.”

“I do understand it, Father, but I still think that we could have looked harder.”

“Jasmina,” the Sheikh said, his tone curt.

Her spine stiffened at his tone. She hadn’t believed she had done anything wrong, but clearly she had messed up somehow. Her father’s shoulders were tense, but at her stricken expression he took a deep breath, lowering them.

“Self-sacrifice is a big part of this job. It is up to us to protect our people at any cost. Today that cost came from our funds. Perhaps someday you might not be able to afford a fancy dress that you want, in exchange for national security. Today is not that day—we have enough, and we must give of ourselves everything we can. That is our job. It will be yours someday.”

“But not for a very long time, right, Papa?”

Her father smiled at her then, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Not for a very long time, my flower. Now come, we have a dinner to get to.”

“Never a moment’s rest,” Jasmina said, grinning.

“Never!” the Sheikh agreed, holding her closer.

A tear trickled down Jasmina’s cheek as she relived the memory. Her father had made so many sacrifices for the good of their people, and he had been betrayed by a wicked group of men who were now somewhere out there with the funds he had worked so hard to amass.

She sat up a little straighter, remembering how many times her father had showed her what it took to be a leader. She wiped the tears from her eyes and considered her own situation.

Jenson was a scoundrel and a cad, and she wasn’t sure if she hated or despised him, though she knew it had to be one of the two. Still, they were connected now, whether she liked it or not, and it was her turn to make a sacrifice for the good of the nation. Her one hope was that they never found out what she had done.

Rising, she walked over to her small writing desk, her mind whirring. She began considering a way to get Jenson to realize just what he was getting into; this wasn’t just a business deal—he would be by her side ruling a country. Perhaps it was time for Jasmina to show him what that really meant.

As she opened her laptop, Jasmina’s lip curled into a tiny smile. Jenson Black had no idea what was coming.