He’d never paused to wonder if his quest to reclaim his identity might endanger his brother or upset Rolan. The last thing Nick wanted was to remind one of the few he trusted of past horrors. Stomach churning, Nick turned to Rolan. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes. I do.” Rolan shook his head. “It’s time, for both of us.”
“It is time for nothing except a tissue of lies. He is not the crown prince.” Next to Dorn, a woman glared at Nick. “Nika would have known me, and this imposter is too skinny.”
That startled a chuckle from Nick. “I know you, Kaya. Perhaps I am astounded the rebels allowed their fiercest opponent to escape them.” Setting aside his concern for Rolan to revisit with his brother later, he rubbed his flat stomach. “Opportunities for sweetmeat pastries are scant where I’ve been.”
“Bah! The real Nika would have greeted me before the silly teacher.” She glared at Nick. “Who fed you? Kissed your ouches? Listened and encouraged you?”
Nick blinked. Confusion swirled inside him. “Averlee did.”
Kaya tossed her head back and roared with laughter.
“You were an amazing cook, don’t get me wrong. You taught me a lot in the kitchen, risking my parents’ disapproval to show me how to prepare meals.” Nick shrugged. “You also chased us kids from your kitchens with a meat cleaver whenever we had the temerity to try to sneak a snack.”
Swiping a palm over her watering eyes, Kaya waved her other hand dismissively. “You are right.” Her chortles faded, but not the wattage of her smile. “If you had been born in my bloodline, I would’ve made a fine cook of you. But you are still too skinny.”
The man next to Kaya straightened his spine. “What about me? Do you know me, Mr. Goode?”
If the interrogation team thought referring to him by his adopted surname would shame him, they were wrong. Nick had loved Paul Goode, and his chest had swelled with pride when he’d assumed the name of the man who had risked so much to guide an injured, grief-stricken orphan to safety. Two orphans once they had found the refugee group headed to the border with Mom and Rolan among them. His parents had been imprisoned by the tribes and forced to work in brutal conditions, but they had never held what they’d suffered against their adopted tribe sons. Nick could only hope to be as decent and honorable as his dad. He squared his shoulders and met the stare of the man who questioned him. “No, I don’t recognize you. I’m sorry.”
Dorn snickered. “You wouldn’t. He is a janitor at the clinic.”
The leader of the group scowled. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No, it doesn’t. Only his blood will.” Beside Nick, Peter frowned. “I object to this unnecessary farce. The terms we agreed upon—”
The leader of the group cut a silencing hand through the air. “A test and a minor one.” His gaze narrowed on Nick. “If he is who he says, he’ll face many challenges far more troublesome than this from the media, political elites, and the peasantry.”
Nick nodded “I’m counting on it.”
“Nevertheless.” The attorney’s lips thinned to a disapproving line. “Any more stunts like this—any variance from the itinerary we negotiated—will result in our immediate departure and rescheduling interviews in my office at our convenience after the DNA panels prove he is Nika Marisek.” His eyebrow arched. “I promise our convenience would not be convenient for you.”
Their leader grimaced, but instead of answering Peter, he concentrated on Nick. “What about me? Do you know who I am?”
He did. “Elder Benjic, of the Ural tribe,” he said in flawless Nan before switching back to common tongue. “I was promised in marriage to one of your children when I was a toddler, but I only met you once, years later at a festival moon feast. You were accompanied by your son, Harr, who was to be my husband.” He wrinkled his nose. “He and I were permitted a single dance, a waltz throughout which he criticized my appearance, my conduct, my family, and every other shortcoming he could pluck from thin air. He apparently believed asserting himself as the high alpha of our future mating required disrespecting me as much as possible. He was rude and obsessed with his own importance.” Nick lifted his chin. “Afterwards, I begged Mother and Father to renegotiate the alliance. No offense.”
“None taken.” The glint in his eyes hinted otherwise. “He was a child, intimidated at and insecure about meeting the imperial family. Harr mated inside the Manowan tribe years ago.”
“I remember coverage of the wedding in the human papers.” Nick curved his lips. “I was…relieved.”
Dorn chuckled.
“Aye, that’s one mating pact that won’t be revoked.” Kaya winked. “Even for an emperor, Harr won’t break it. The fool fell in love with his wife.” Kaya grinned. “His daughters are solidly mated, too. Benjic would risk his power base in the capitol if he broke any of those alliances, so you should be safe from mating machinations.”
“We haven’t proven who he is yet.” Lydia crossed her arms over her ample chest and glowered. “Can we manage to not marry him off until we do?”
Peter held up his hand. “The Council outlawed mating pacts after the war. As such, my client is free to marry whomever he pleases.”
Silly human.
Technically, the rebels forbade mating pacts that had kept the separate tribes from each other’s throats for centuries as a barbaric habit of a failed aristocracy, but the tribes could not be parted from a tradition that might as well have been bred into their bones, especially since the pacts still achieved the goal of peace. The council’s efforts to eliminate mating pacts had simply driven the practice underground.
Nick expected to be mated as soon as he proved his claim. The only genuine question was to which tribe he would belong and, unluckily for Benjic, without a child to fulfill the pact struck in Nick’s infancy, Nick was free to choose his allies for himself.
While the others bickered, Nick studied Benjic. He vaguely remembered the elder. At their single meeting, Nick had been distracted by his intended husband and his horror at the possibility of mating such an arrogant jerk, but Nick had heeded news reports of the council elder since the war. Benjic was important in the tribes, sly and manipulative. Before the revolution, he’d maneuvered Nick’s father into a mating pact to shore up Benjic’s position among the tribes. Rather than falling from grace alongside most allies of the crown, Benjic hung on to his power base during and after the war—and built upon it. Benjic was the most dangerous man in the room.
Barring Nick.
“Don’t fuss, Lyd.” Nick took his best friend’s hand in his and squeezed. “I’m safe.” He nodded at Benjic. “He seems to be out of children to mate me to, so the pact can no longer be fulfilled anyway.”
Benjic grinned, his smile full of teeth.
Only once had Nick been as absolutely wrong.