“That pompous ass!” Saoirse shouts as soon as we are back safely in her room. “Where does he get off on thinking he’s so much better than everyone else?”

I pull her into my arms, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I don’t think he is getting off much at all,” I joke, earning a soft laugh from her. “You could have been a bit more diplomatic, Sersh.”

“What like him? I swear, he hated me before we’d even spoken two words. Did you see the way he was glaring at me when I walked in?”

“If it makes you feel any better, he was glaring at the king and I as well,” I try to comfort.

“Great, so he just hates everyone. Good to know.”

“I don’t think he hates his brother,” I reason.

“Unfortunately for him, he can’t have sex with his brother,” she mutters.

The image of Prince Alec’s creamy white skin and ocean blue eyes flashes through my mind. “It is unfortunate really,” I respond slyly.

Saoirse smirks at me from her place in my arms. “Do you maybe want to—?”

“Yes,” I answer without a second thought.

“Tonight.”

“Ok.”

She sighs at my words, appearing slightly calmer as she leans back into me. “I mean, honestly, what kind of guy would commit themselves to a life of celibacy? I’ll tell you: a hateful, bitter man who takes no pleasure in life.”

“Well, as I understand it, Crismond standards of propriety are quite a bit more stringent than—“

“Wait! That’s it, Gil!” she suddenly says excitedly, drawing back from me.

“I don’t follow.”

“He’s into men! That’s why he doesn’t want to sleep with me. He probably is sexually repressing himself, because of his prudish culture, and that makes him grumpy all the time. Maybe if we can get him laid, he will ease up a bit!”

I want to immediately shut down Saoirse’s assessment—it just doesn’t feel quite right to me—but I hold myself back, reviewing the entire conversation in my head. After a beat, I say, “Do you remember that girl we were with eighteen months ago, Emma?”

“Uh, I got to be honest Gil, I’m not the best at remembering the names of all our partners.”

“She was the one who told me she wanted to eat my brains,” I remind her.

“Oh, yeah. I remember her now. Weird girl. We had to woo her forever before she agreed to have sex and she always wanted to talk beforehand. Didn’t she say you reciting Voyrock was a turn on for her?”

I smile at the memory. “She did. I liked her. So few people appreciate my impeccable memory.”

Saoirse just rolls her eyes at me. “Your point?”

“I think our prince may be like her: more attracted to what’s up here,” I point at my head, “than what’s down there.” I say, gesturing to my pelvis.

Saoirse grimaces skeptically. “Really? You think so?”

I nod. “He said, ‘I do not wish to share your bed, because I do not know you’ and ‘If we should happen to grow closer, which I highly doubt, perhaps my feelings on the matter will change’. Both those lines indicate, at least to me, that he is more concerned about starting a sexual relationship with someone he doesn’t love than with a woman.”

“Damn, you’re probably right. And I was so sure getting a male prostitute would change his mind about the profession…” She gnaws on her lip as she often does when deep in thought.

“What would you like to do, Sersh?” I ask carefully, half afraid of her answer.

She lets out a helpless laugh. “I would like to not make promises I have no intention of keeping. Fortunately, Prince Fionn seems dimwitted enough to have not even considered the possibility that a woman might want sex outside of marriage. So, we will continue as planned, and I will just choose my words... very carefully from now on.”

Although Saoirse and I are well acquainted with lying about our relationship, it somehow seems wrong to hide the truth from a spouse. We both hoped, perhaps a bit foolishly, that the Duke of Crissomid might be amenable to turning a blind eye in return for Saoirse doing the same for him. Now, it seems like we have no leverage to negotiate an arrangement with him. Unless…

“We could--” I pause, rethinking my new plan. It was risky. Very risky.

“What? You have an idea, Gil?” Saoirse asks breathlessly.

“It may not work,” I confess.

“At this point, I’m open to hearing any ideas,” she encourages.

“We could always try to make him fall in love with us.”