Senator Warren Reed knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a response.
"Ah, you are just in time, my boy!" Prime Minister Cruz said, smiling widely.
Warren suppressed a surge of irritation. He was thirty-three years old; hardly a boy.
"Your Excellency," he said evenly.
"None of that, son! Call me Julian, as all my friends do. Take a seat."
Warren sat down and looked at the prime minister expectantly, displaying patience he didn't feel.
"You're probably wondering why I've asked you to come," Cruz said.
Warren just nodded.
The prime minister could talk all day if he were given the smallest encouragement. Sometimes Warren couldn't help but think the man was a babbling fool, except a fool wouldn't remain the head of the South for two decades.
Julian Cruz had a sharp mind and equally sharp instincts, contrary to his friendly, harmless demeanor.
"How long have we known each other, my boy?"
"Over a decade, Your Excellency."
Cruz hummed thoughtfully. "Indeed. Time flies, doesn't it? I suppose that's life. It seems only yesterday you became the youngest senator in history."
At times like this, Warren almost thought Cruz suspected him, and that was why he annoyed him on purpose, testing his patience and waiting for Warren to give himself away.
Despite Cruz's seemingly warm attitude, there was no love lost between them. He knew Cruz was wary of his growing influence and power in the Assembly; he would have to have been a fool not to be, especially considering the upcoming elections next year.
Warren breathed through his nose, carefully.
The prime minister was an alpha, and his scent never failed to aggravate Warren a little, which was a normal enough reaction, but that day the man's scent was stronger than usual.
Cruz was worried about something. Or excited. It was hard to tell.
Warren's scent-blocker messed with his own senses, too, making them duller, something he usually didn't mind at all, but now he would have liked to be able to determine Cruz's intentions through his scent.
But that would have been too easy. He hadn't gotten as far as he had by relying on his instincts.
So he remained calm and waited. Cruz would get to the point eventually.
And eventually, he did.
"You were there when I told the Assembly about the ultimatum the Coalition had given us," Cruz said, looking at him intently. His gaze was serious now. "So I will not bore you with the particulars again. You're one of the few senators who actually understand the seriousness of the situation."
Warren said nothing.
Cruz sighed. "I know most of the Assembly doesn't trust the North Veridians to actually maintain the peace. That's why I suggested a diplomatic marriage between a prominent member of the Assembly and someone from North Veridia's nobility. To my surprise, the Coalition representative supported my idea, and he already secured King Kaiser's agreement."
"That's good," Warren said. As someone whose estate was close to the border between North Veridia and South, he had always been an outspoken supporter of peace.
Cruz nodded. "Indeed. King Kaiser's only condition was that I must choose a beta to represent South."
Warren's blood pressure spiked. "Your Excellency?"
The prime minister looked him in the eyes. "I'm asking you to do it for your country, son. You know better than anyone how ravaged the South is by this never-ending war."
Warren's first instinct was to refuse. Of course, he wanted to refuse.
But then he thought of his mother's red-rimmed, fearful eyes every time Warren's younger brother failed to message her from the front line.
He thought of his pretty omega sister, living in the house so close to the border that it could be overrun by the North Veridian army any day.
Warren's lands were heavily guarded, but security guards would be nothing against an army. And one day the army would come.
They had just been lucky that the North Veridia- South border was very long and all the major battles had happened away from Reeds—so far.
One day, their luck would run out.
But peace, if it actually held this time, could put an end to it once and for all.
He'd made bigger sacrifices for his family. What was one more?
Warren's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I will do it, Your Excellency."
Cruz grinned widely. "I knew I could count on you, Warren. Truth be told, you were the only candidate I could think of who is a beta and is high-profile enough to marry a prince. Everyone in the Assembly respects you, and the press loves you—"
"A prince?" Warren cut him off, stiffening. "You mean Prince Jordan Schaefer?"
Cruz blinked. "Of course! Do you know any other prince? The Schaefers have only one prince since King Kaiser's eldest son died." He cocked his head to the side and studied him with shrewd eyes. "Is something the matter? Do you have any objections to Prince Jordan?"
Warren barely suppressed an instinctive growl, already regretting agreeing to this without asking who the other party was.
Jordan Schaefer. He was known by many names. His reputation preceded him, even in the South, maybe especially in the South. The Golden General. The Death Bringer.
And an alpha.
"No objections," Warren ground out, because any objections to marrying the prince would sound ridiculous—and suspicious.
Prince Jordan was a media darling. He was exceptionally handsome, athletic, and by all accounts, he possessed a brilliant mind for strategy.
A beta wouldn't have any objections to marrying such a fine specimen of an alpha.
The problem was, he was no beta.
But he couldn't backtrack now. His political career would be ruined if he admitted that his presentation documents had been falsified—not to mention the legal trouble his mother would be in.
No matter how angry he was with her, Warren had to protect her.
His mind racing, Warren looked down at his hands. He found his fingers clenched so hard his knuckles stood out white against his sun-bronzed skin.
He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to relax.
It wasn't necessarily a disaster. It would be a political marriage, a means for good publicity, and meant to convince the hesitating senators that the peace would be sustainable—and to ensure that the North Veridians wouldn't stick a knife in their backs.
So in theory, the prince's designation didn't change anything.
Warren nearly laughed at himself.
Who was he kidding? A marriage between two alphas was unheard of for a reason, and it wasn't because alphas couldn't want other alphas.
Although Warren wasn't one of them, some alphas were attracted to other alphas. It was very rare and taboo, but such things happened.
The problem was, sustaining an alpha-alpha relationship was impossible.
It was biologically difficult for two alphas to live together without trying to establish dominance over their partner, and such rare relationships tended to quickly turn violent, abusive, and toxic.
Considering that the alpha in question was an enemy general responsible for countless deaths in his country and Warren already disliked the man before even meeting him, this was a disaster in waiting.
And since he was pretending to be a beta, everyone would expect him to defer to his alpha husband—or at least the traditionalists would expect it.
Not that Warren gave a fuck about their opinions.
As far as the traditionalists were concerned, an alpha was supposed to mate only with an omega and keep the omega pregnant year in and year out.
They would consider a marriage between a male alpha and a male beta a waste, since they couldn't have children the traditional way.
"I'm surprised Prince Jordan requested a beta," Warren said. "From everything I've heard of him, he sounds like a traditionalist."
Cruz shrugged. "I've heard rumors that he likes the challenge of betas and considers omegas too easy."
Warren almost laughed. It was kind of ironic.
If Jordan Schaefer liked a challenge, he was going to be in for a nice surprise—if they managed not to kill each other within a week.
"All right," Warren said, getting to his feet.
"When is the wedding?" Cruz smiled.
"In two days."