more advantages than drawbacks.” Brennar flashed him an enigmatic smile. “Marriages of convenience are not unknown in the world of interplanetary relations.”
Gareth lowered his voice. “You mean you’d still be willing to fool around with a married man?”
“Diplomats have been called upon to do far worse in the interests of maintaining peace.”
“My new father-in-law did extol the virtues of polygamy,” Gareth mused. “I doubt you’re what he had in mind, though.”
“I would expect not.”
“I’ll still need some more time to think everything over. Why don’t we go back to the ship and, ah...sleep on it? Zimeon can’t object. I’d need to make some arrangements of my own, anyway.”
Brennar crossed to the door. He paused with one hand on the ornately carved knob. “I will inform him that we shall both return in the morning.”
Gareth nodded. “Meet you at the travel pod in ten minutes.”
As he watched the door close behind Brennar, his bewilderment returned. “Krys Gareth” and “marriage” were words he had never expected to hear used together, much less speak himself.
At least Izbal understood, as he did, that what they were entering into was a business arrangement. She might even prefer a chaste, long-distance relationship. She’d already agreed it was impossible for them to stay together. He had his role in life to play, and she had hers. They both understood that, which made them compatible in an odd way.
And he wouldn’t have to give up Brennar.
Maybe he could pull this wedding thing off, after all.
* * * *
The following afternoon, the entire village turned out for a ceremony that thankfully proved as brief as it was tasteful. Gareth had never envisioned himself married, but he found himself moved as Izbal held his hand and recited vows of love and, not to his surprise, obedience. Still, by playing along with her father’s game, he was setting her free from her culture’s chains in a way a man of her own world would not.
Brennar stood beside him as he swore his own oath to her, serving as both witness and confidant. Gareth wondered how the assembled guests, not to mention his bride, would have reacted had they seen the way the two of them had spent the night before the wedding. He’d heard of an old Earth tradition called a bachelor party, but he doubted it had involved the groom banging away on top of another man or gulping down a thick, creamy cock and relishing every inch as it massaged his throat.
“I’m sorry,” Izbal whispered as she dutifully tied the traditional marriage band around his wrist and then held out her hand so he could do the same. “A wedding was not among your plans when you came here. Please believe me when I say it was not mine, either.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Gareth whispered back. “I suspect your father usually gets what he wants.”
The ceremony ended without a kiss. Gareth and Izbal turned from the elderly man who had officiated and walked through the cheering crowd, arm in arm. Brennar followed at a respectful distance, and behind him came the dozen women who had attended Izbal.
They crossed the village common, passing the spot where they had danced together as strangers only the day before. This time they were led to a pair of specially decorated seats from which they watched others dance for their entertainment.
Gareth caught a glimpse of Brennar being led to one of the many tables set up outside. The ambassador took a spot among some of the grand potentate’s older councilors, who seemed to be quarrelling. Brennar would be bored by them, Gareth suspected, though perhaps not bored stiff. At least he hoped not. Stiffening would be his job, later.
“We’re not expected to participate?” Gareth indicated the young people who pranced before them. As awkward as he’d felt yesterday, he would have preferred some activity to lounging on the periphery.
“My rank makes it unseemly for me to dance now that we are