Pretender to the Throne

by Maisey Yates

  He took another step toward her and her heart climbed up into her throat and lodged itself there. “You had fire. Beneath that airhead, mean-girl surface, you had more to you than anyone guessed. You were a little flame ready to become a wild fire.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve changed now and...”

  “No. You’re still doing it. You’re still hiding who you are beneath something else. Beneath a shield. The flame is still there, you just want to hide it. Up in the mountains.”

  “It’s not my fire I’m hiding. It’s my face. And if you want to pretend it doesn’t matter then I’m going to tell you right now, Xander, no matter what you said before, you are a liar.” Rage rattled through her, fueled her, spurred her on.

  It hit her, as the force of it threatened to consume her, that of all the emotions she’d felt since her attack, she’d never been angry. Sad. Depressed. Lonely. She’d hit rock-bottom with those. Then she’d found a sort of steady tranquility in her existence at the convent.

  But she’d never been angry.

  Just now she was so furious she thought she might break apart with it. “Look at me,” she said, “really look. Can you imagine me on newspapers and magazines? The face for our country? Can you imagine me trying to go to parties as if nothing had happened? Trying to continue on as if I was the same Layna as before? That’s why I went to the convent. Because there it didn’t matter if my face was different. There it’s practically a virtue and here...here it’s just not. I’m ugly, Xander, and whether or not I accept myself there will always be people who want to point it out. I’ve never seen a reason for putting myself through it.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes hard. “It will be commented on. I won’t lie about that. But do you think people will resent your scars or my abandonment more?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re honestly still considering me as queen material.”

  “I was very interested by the fact that you haven’t yet taken your vows.”

  “My intent remains the same, whether or not I’ve taken final vows.”

  He reached out, took a piece of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. She froze. She hadn’t been touched by a man in longer than she could remember. Male doctors were the last ones, she was certain. And then she hadn’t registered the touch in any significant way.

  But Xander had never been easy to ignore. Now, with his hand on her hair, just her hair, a flood of memories assaulted her. The catalog of moments when Xander had touched her in the past opened, forcing her to remember.

  His hand over hers, or low on her back. An arm around her waist. His warm palm on her cheek as his lips nearly brushed hers.

  If they had married then, they would have kissed thousands of times by now. But as it was, they had never kissed once.

  “But nothing is final,” he said.

  He lowered his hand, releasing her hair, and sanity flooded in a wave. She stepped back, blinking, that fresh and newfound anger coming to her rescue.

  “Yes, Xander, everything is final. I have made my decision, like you made yours. I’ll help you in any way I can, but don’t insult me by pretending, even for a second, that you would consider making me your wife. Don’t consider that I might allow it.”

  She turned and walked out of the room and when she hit the halls she suddenly realized that she was gasping for breath. She put a hand on her chest and blinked hard, fighting tears, fighting panic.

  Xander was reaching into places inside of her no one had touched in so long, she’d forgotten they were there. Longings and regrets she’d buried beneath a mountain of all that lovely contentment she’d learned to cultivate from the sisters at the convent.

  Xander made her restless. This palace made her remember. It made her want things....

  She shook her head. No. She wouldn’t let this happen. She wouldn’t be shaken. She would help him. If only to help her country, her people.

  But she wouldn’t forget who she’d become. Who Xander’s actions had forced her to become.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  XANDER UNBUTTONED HIS shirt and threw it onto the bed. He hadn’t intended to bring up the marriage proposal like that. Hell, he hadn’t meant to bring it up at all. She was a nun. Well, close enough to being one, anyway.

  And then there were the scars. He couldn’t pretend they didn’t matter. She was right on that score. He needed a wife that would help improve his image in the public, and before he’d seen her, he’d imagined that she could do that. That their reunion would be seen as a true romance in the eyes of the media.

  But how would they respond to a scarred princess? A princess who had been scarred during the turmoil caused by his leaving? A constant reminder of dark times for all of them. It had to be considered.

  As for him, it didn’t much matter. He would marry someone, he had to. But just because he had to marry didn’t mean he had to be monogamous. He would be honest on that score with whomever he married, of course. But marriage was a necessity because he had to produce heirs, and preferably sooner rather than later. At thirty-six he was hardly getting any younger, and added to that, the people needed assurance that he could provide what was needed.

  His plans were officially screwed.

  Tomorrow, he was taking Layna to Kyonos’s largest hospital, where he would make his first public appearance. And where he would be giving a sizable donation of his personal fortune, and making his intentions of ruling Kyonos known.

  Because nothing eased the way like throwing charitable donations around. At least, he hoped it would ease the way.

  The people loved Stavros. They wouldn’t accept the change lightly. Come to think of it, he was sure it was why his brother remained out of the country, even knowing Xander was back. The bastard.

  He nearly laughed out loud. No, Stavros wasn’t the bastard here. He never had been. The bastard had always been him.

  But it was too late to worry about that now. His decision was made.

  He thought of Layna, of his need for a wife. Some of his decisions were made, but not all of them.

  He would have to figure that part out as quickly as possible. Of course, in order to have it all figured out, he needed to know what he was dealing with.

  He turned to his desk, to his laptop, sitting there, open. He typed in his name on the search engine and hit enter.

  It had hit. The servants must have called. Someone had said something, because there were headlines already.

  The Disgraced Heir’s Return. He clicked the link and skimmed the article. It was filled with bile and innuendo. About all he’d done with his life since he’d been gone.

  Prince Alexander Drakos, abandoned Kyonos like a rat when it was a sinking ship, saved, of course by Prince Stavros. All while Xander partied in Monaco, wasting his family fortune, sleeping with countless women while indulging in alcohol and illegal substances.

  One source from an exclusive casino was quoted.

  “One night, he was so drunk he could hardly stand straight. He put his arms around two women to brace himself and they helped him back to his room. I didn’t see them leave until the next morning.”

  And this is the man who presumes to come back and be king of our great nation.

  Xander closed the laptop, heat streaking up the back of his neck. He couldn’t remember the night being referenced in the article, but he couldn’t say it was a lie.

  It wasn’t going to be like he’d thought. It was going to be worse. And all he could do was go forward with the plan.

  There was no other option.

  * * *

  “I assumed asking you to put on something more appropriate for the occasion would make you look at me like I’d grown a second head.”

  Layna was at the breakfast table, wearing an insipid pale pink shift and a sweate
r that was the color of a dirty rose. She looked up, her gaze serene. But it didn’t cover the fire beneath. He’d spoken the truth to her last night. The fire was still there, fire she’d always been so desperate to hide. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. My dress is the picture of appropriate.”

  “For a nunnery.”

  She arched a brow. “Funny that.”

  “You’re not in the convent anymore, Dorothy.”

  “I don’t suppose if I tapped my heels together three times I might find my way back.”

  “Unlikely. I doubt nuns are allowed to possess magic shoes.”

  “Novice.”

  “Either way,” he said, crossing the room and planting his hands on the back of one of the dining chairs, “I am wearing a tie. And I don’t think you understand just what a concession that is, so all things considered, perhaps you would allow me to get you a more appropriate dress for what I am certain will end up being a press conference.”

  Her expression went blank at the mention of the press. “What’s the point? I’m not speaking in your press conference. I’m there to be your...what am I exactly—some homely, saintly representation of your good intentions? Or am I just supposed to stand close so that the lightning bolt you were concerned about earlier doesn’t hit you?”

  “I thought God didn’t work that way.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I said that before I’d spent this much time with you.”

  “I won’t lie to you, you are here to give me a bit more of a savory appearance. And also because I think it lends nice closure to our story. If you can forgive me...”

  “Oh, I see. Another layer to my usefulness.” She stood, color slowly blooming in her cheeks as her voice rose. “You thought that if I would forgive you the country would follow suit. That if you came back and the woman you were engaged to before you left opened her arms to you, your people would do the same.” And then she did something wholly unexpected. She started laughing.

  Not just a giggle, but a laugh that seemed to take over her whole body. She put her hand on the back of the chair in front of her and doubled over, laughing so hard he thought she might choke.

  “Oh, poor Xander,” she gasped. “You came back to find your queen, your key to your redemption and you found a scarred woman who’d given herself to the church. Your plans just aren’t going well, are they?”

  He wouldn’t even mention the unflattering news pieces going around about him.

  “You could say that,” he said, his words clipped. He did not find the situation as funny as she did. But then, in his mind, none of this was terribly funny. It was all his worst nightmare as far as he was concerned.

  He was back here, in the suffocating atmosphere of the palace, trying to pretend like he fit when he didn’t. Trying to pretend the scars the past had left on him didn’t hurt when they did. Trying to act like this was a future he was entitled to when he knew full well it wasn’t.

  But he was the only one who did know that. The only one who was still alive who knew it, anyway.

  “Sorry I’m making it difficult for you to use me,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m sure that must really mess things up.”

  “I thought you lived for the service of others.”

  “The poor and downtrodden, not entitled royal princes who don’t know you can’t find responsibility, honor or purpose in the bottom of a gin bottle.”

  He laughed, bitterness in the sound. “No, I know you can’t, but that’s not what I was looking for.”

  “What were you looking for?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t looking for anything. I was trying to lose something. Now are you ready to go or not?”

  “I’m ready,” she said, her eyes far too assessing for his liking.

  “Fine then, let’s go. And do your best to look saintly. If you can cultivate a halo on our way there I would really appreciate it.”

  * * *

  Layna held her breath until she thought she would pass out. The press was already waiting at the hospital when they pulled up, so clearly someone on staff had leaked the news. It would be huge, of course it would. The heir to the throne back on Kyonos.

  The implications were huge.

  And all she could think about was that they would be taking her picture. That people would look at her.

  Xander made her revert to a stupid, silly girl who cared about insubstantial things. It was annoying beyond belief.

  Just focus on all the good you can do with the kind of budget he has.

  Yes, that was the key. She would direct him to the needs she knew existed. It would benefit Kyonos and it would benefit him. Everyone came out a winner. Having her picture in the paper was a small price to pay for doing that kind of good.

  It really was. It didn’t matter what they said. It didn’t matter what they thought. Her body was just the place her soul lived, and the only beauty she had to be concerned with was the kind that was inside.

  She repeated that, over and over again, but still when the car came to a stop and Xander got out, her hands started to shake.

  They were taking pictures already. Xander’s return would be the biggest news since his abandoning the island and it would be on every news station, in every paper.

  He opened the limo door and before she could fully process her movements, she got out and was assaulted by a barrage of flashes and shouts. He took her arm and she kept her face tilted down as they walked into the hospital.

  He released his hold on her when they were near the doors, then stood in front of her, the gesture oddly protective as he turned, addressing the press. “I will speak to you when we are done here. For now, my priority is to see how the most vulnerable of my country are getting on. I have brought with me an ambassador, one who knows the struggles of all of you. Please treat her with respect.”

  He turned back to the doors, his hand on her arm again as he led her into the hospital.

  The hospital administrator was waiting for them and after making introductions it was clear Xander was waiting for her to lead things. “Is the hospital large enough to accommodate all of the patients that you need to see?” she asked.

  “Prince Stavros has done an amazing job of building up our research center,” the woman said. Her manner was reserved. Almost cold. She was trying to be friendly, especially since Xander was there to give money, but there was a brittleness there she wasn’t hiding well. “As a result we’re well-equipped in many areas, but yes, things are starting to feel understaffed, and the children’s ward especially is very small. People travel here seeking treatment.”

  “A wonderful thing,” Xander said, for the first time, his confidence sounding blunted. He knew when to tone himself down, which was a surprise to Layna, and a credit to him.

  “Yes,” Layna said. “What about emergency medical services?”

  They finished the tour of the hospital, which included a trip through the cafeteria. Layna nearly laughed at Xander, trying to deal with a hospital version of a gyro. He was clearly not impressed.

  “She was not thrilled to have me here, was she?” Xander asked as he took another bite of food.

  “Not as much as one might have hoped,” Layna said.

  “Well, I imagined that’s what I’ll be contending with across the board. Stavros is well-liked. And I am not.” He looked down at his meal. “I do have an idea of where we might increase the funding,” he said, his voice low, only for Layna.

  “Better idea, Xander, why don’t you put some money aside to send the hospital cooks through a culinary course? Then they have transferable skills.”

  He paused, a half smile curving his lips. “This is why I brought you.”

  “I do have my uses,” she said. “Even if I can’t be made a queen.”

  He stared at her, for far too long in her opinion.
It made her face hot, made her aware of her face. Annoying man.

  “Are you ready to leave?” he asked. The hospital administrator had gone back to her office and they were standing in the lobby, staff and patients passing through. Some trying not to stare, some staring openly as they tried to decipher if the larger-than-life man standing there was a Drakos. If he was the long lost heir.

  “Yes. As ready as I can be. I appreciated what you said to everyone before we came in. Hopefully they’ll find it in them to be human. To both of us.”

  “Aren’t you looking forward to the press ripping into me? They already have, you know.”

  She paused, waiting to feel some kind of relish at the thought, but she just didn’t. “I actually don’t want that. A surprise, I know. But I’m tired of this country feeling torn. I’m tired of grieving our losses. Tired of the unrest. Stavros has done an incredible job rebuilding, unifying, and the people love him. But there is a sense that everything isn’t settled. That the royal family itself isn’t healed. With the king so sick... Xander, I would rather you be accepted with open arms. And then I would like for you to take the people’s trust and use it well, not abuse it. That’s what I would like.”

  “And you want to go back up to your mountain then?”

  “It’s my years on the mountain that are helping you now. You have to admit, this wasn’t your area of expertise.”

  “I’ve been a patient in hospital emergency rooms,” he said, looking around them, “but I’ve been short on philanthropy in them.”

  “You have?” She was honestly shocked by that.

  He laughed. “I’ve done no shortage of dumb-ass things in my time away, Layna. Just trust me on that. Too much speed in cars, too much drink, too much...everything.” He paused. “Another advantage, I suppose to your being committed elsewhere. If you aren’t my queen, you don’t have to deal with my past.”

  “Is it so bad?”

  He nodded slowly. “And there’s a lot of it. Ready?”