Pretender to the Throne

by Maisey Yates

  The drunken gambler didn’t think she had faith, it would make her laugh if she didn’t feel like she was cracking apart inside. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid man.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the salty air burning her throat. Mother Superior hadn’t blinked overly much at her return, but this morning she’d called Layna into her office and told that she would have to make a choice now.

  Either she would take her vows, or she would find somewhere else to go. The abbess hadn’t been unkind, but the simple fact was, Layna’s room had been filled and she’d been off living...well, unchastely. That was the truth and she couldn’t deny it.

  This wasn’t a place for her to hide, while she was free to have bouts of going off and doing what she wanted. It wasn’t fair. Or right.

  Damn Xander. She had no idea who she was anymore.

  You of little faith.

  It wasn’t fair. He was asking her to have faith in him but she didn’t have a guarantee. She couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t lose everything again.

  That she wouldn’t be left stranded at rock bottom alone.

  For we walk by faith, not by sight.

  Well, that was just inconvenient. She got off her horse and looked out at the ocean, over the rolling, gray waves. Everything seemed to have been leached of color to accommodate her mood and she appreciated it. At least something was working in her favor.

  Suddenly she was hit by a wave of sadness so strong it crippled her. She went down to her knees, the moisture from the grass bleeding through her dress.

  He was right. She had no faith. It took no faith to hide. You didn’t need faith when you were safe. Didn’t need it behind the walls of a convent, where you were protected from the world. When your every need was met daily and you were never challenged, you didn’t need faith.

  You didn’t need faith when you were a novice who’d spent years managing to not take vows. Not taking the leap of faith and committing the trust it took to go wholly into that life, not having the faith to go back into the world and try to live.

  She’d condemned herself to a halflife in exchange for safety. It wasn’t the press that scared her. It was what he made her feel.

  He made her feel so exposed. He didn’t accept her excuses. Didn’t let her scars keep him at a distance. He wanted it all. Worse, he wanted her to have it all.

  And wasn’t sure she was brave enough to ever take that risk again.

  * * *

  If ever there was a time Xander wanted to run, it was now. From the searing pain in his chest. From the burning in his eyes, from tears, damn it, and not because he was hung over.

  He hadn’t had anything to drink since she’d left.

  It was like he’d well and truly changed. Fancy that. Change didn’t feel all that rewarding when you were sober and you didn’t have the woman you loved.

  A pain shot through his chest. Yes, he did love her. He wondered now if he always had. If he’d been a shallow boy, in love with a shallow, beautiful girl. Until their world shook apart and he’d gone off licking his wounds.

  He’d come back a man changed, to find her a woman changed. And to find that everything that had been there between them from the beginning was still there. That the tragedies of life had reshaped them, so much so that they fit together now even more perfectly than before.

  And she was too afraid to see it. Too afraid to reach out and take it. To trust him. To be with him. She was choosing to be unhappy so that she wouldn’t be devastated and that killed him.

  Unless she just doesn’t love you.

  Well, that was always a possibility. But still, with him or without him, she was choosing fear over happiness and that ate at him. Because it was what he’d done for so long. Because he was an expert in empty, meaningless things. In pursuits that were vain and useless.

  In turning away from everything pure and strong, and hard and wonderful, so that he could simply find some shelter from reality.

  He was done with that now, though. He loved her. More than the throne. More than his own life.

  So he could sit here and brood soberly, or he could go after her. Make a fool of himself. Again. For her love. And if he couldn’t have her love, he would beg her to let go of all that pain and live the life she was meant to live.

  Not shut herself away from the world, but shine in it.

  Of course, he would beg her to be with him first. She could shine with him. Failing that, he would let her shine alone. But dammit, she would shine. Scars and fears couldn’t keep her hidden anymore.

  She was beautiful. She deserved everything. And he had to make sure that she knew it.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you go for a ride? Or a walk?”

  Layna turned toward Mother Maria-Francesca, feeling distinctly ashamed just looking at the other woman. She shouldn’t still be here taking up valuable space and sulking. Though, sulking seemed like too weak of a term.

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Where will you go?” She detected a hint of concern in her voice. Probably afraid Layna would do something dire since she looked like a specter of death.

  But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t honestly say she wouldn’t. “Just up in the hills. To get a view of the ocean. My favorite place.”

  “Will you take Phineas?”

  “No. I need the walk. I need to move slow. I have a lot of thinking to do.”

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts and walked out of the church building and out into the stormy weather. Wind was blowing in off the waves, rain threatening to fall from swollen gray clouds.

  Layna lowered her head and started up the hill, not thinking, just feeling. Just letting her emotions wash through her.

  She felt like she was drowning even while she was standing there breathing air. But the strangest thing was, she didn’t feel like she was losing herself.

  She scrambled to the top of a grass-covered hill and looked out over the ocean, tears blinding her. She hurt as much as she ever had, her heart smashed to pieces, shards embedded in her chest, but she wasn’t fading into the mist.

  Maybe it was because Xander’s face was too strong in her mind. Maybe it was just because she had something, someone, to care about now.

  Maybe it was because she finally knew who she was.

  She wasn’t a party girl with spoiled looks. Wasn’t a princess who would never be crowned. She was Layna Xenakos, whatever her circumstances. Whatever her face. She was strong. She had run through hell and caught on fire along the way, left with scars that were inside and out, but she’d run through.

  She had lost her faith, but for one blinding moment, she felt like maybe she’d found it.

  Because this was that place again. That rock-bottom moment. But she wasn’t alone.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sky, a raindrop landing on her cheeks. No, she wasn’t alone. And she was strong.

  A lump rose in her throat, a sob breaking through.

  It didn’t matter what happened. She could trust herself.

  She could trust Xander.

  Oh, Xander.

  She needed to go to him. Because she loved him. Because he was the one she wanted to be with, that was the life she wanted.

  She had to get down and beg for his forgiveness if that’s what she needed to do. To ask him if he would take her, as she was, so broken and scared, when she’d been so horrible to him.

  To tell him she feared nothing. Not pain, or love, or the media, more than she feared a lifetime without him.

  She turned and her heart nearly stopped when she saw a dark head come into view, cresting the top of the hill, followed by a familiar face, and a heartbreakingly familiar body.

  “Xander,” she whispered.

  And she ran to him.r />
  Layna threw her arms around his neck and held him close to her, tears falling, her hands shaking. “What are you doing here?”

  “I lied to you,” he said, voice rough, his fingers forked through her hair, his face buried in her neck.

  “You did?” she asked, pulling her head back so that she could look at him.

  “I told you no more running. But I’m running now. To you.”

  She laughed as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Well, you’re in luck because I just stopped running. So it looks like we’re finally standing in the same place.”

  “It’s about time,” he said, kissing her lips. “It’s about time.”

  “I love you,” she said. “I was so scared, Xander. So scared to say it, or hear it, or feel it. But I found my faith. I found it and now I’m not afraid.”

  “I still can’t give you your guarantee. Not as far as anything in life is concerned. But with me you have one. I’ll always stand with you. I’ll always stay with you. You will be my wife. The mother of my children. You’re the only woman for me, Layna. Now and always. There are many uncertain things, but not my love.”

  “I don’t need a guarantee. Not now. Faith is all about walking without sight. I don’t need to see ahead, I just need to see you.”

  “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”

  She laughed. “About as glad as I am to say it?”

  “I need to tell you this. I need you to understand—”

  “I believe you, Xander, you have nothing to prove,” she said, cupping his face and kissing him again. “I’m sorry I made you feel that you did. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I let fear win. But it won’t. Not again.”

  “But you need to hear this. I have walked down so many dark paths. I’ve chased pleasure in all its forms, and oblivion. I’ve tasted hopelessness. There was nothing there. No satisfaction. No answer. But with you, I find I am the man I’m meant to be. I find I’m the man I should have been all this time. You gave me the strength to face my father, to face this. I had to come and find you right away because somehow I knew I couldn’t do it without you. I felt it.”

  She took a deep breath, of the sea and of Xander.

  “I feel like we’re standing at the beginning again. But better. Because I know so much more. I’ve been down those paths, too, and I know how dark they can be. So I know now just how important it is to always reach for the light. I know how weak I can be, but I also know how strong I can be.”

  “Very strong,” he said. “You are so very strong.”

  “I wouldn’t go back,” she said, another tear spilling down her face. “I wouldn’t take it back now. Because this is who I need to be. This is when we need to be. Not fifteen years ago when we would have made each other more vain and selfish, with equally vain and selfish children. But now.”

  “Now that I’m a broken-down playboy and you’re a scarred novice? You are still only a novice, right? You didn’t take vows, did you?”

  “Nothing half so drastic, don’t worry. But, yes, the scarred novice and the broken-down playboy with no pedigree. That’s exactly who we needed to be.”

  “It was always going to be us in the end, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I think so. How else would we survive all of this if we couldn’t hold on to each other?”

  “We wouldn’t,” he said. That simple. That certain.

  “I’m just glad we got to become better versions of ourselves before it happened.”

  “I’m just glad that we’re finally together.”

  “So am I.”

  “And we’re together because of how much I love you, because of how much you love me. Not for Kyonos. Not for appearances. Not for any other reason.”

  He picked her up, and spun her in a circle, rain falling in earnest now, soaking them both. She flung her hands wide and let it fall on her, let it wash away the years. The regret. The pain. So all that remained was love.

  “You know,” she said, “I always felt the most free when I was riding my horse. But now I just feel that way. I just feel free.”

  “We both are, Layna. We both are.”

  EPILOGUE

  Fifteen years later...

  “HE’S GOING TO outlive us all.” Xander sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at his wife. He was exhausted from the ball, a sort of “coming out” affair for Jessica and Stavros’s oldest daughter. His own daughters had been so excited about it they’d been driving him mad for weeks.

  Now they were feverishly planning their own, even though it was some years off. Mak and Eva’s oldest son had reacted to the entire thing with the same sullenness of his father, and nothing his squealing cousins had done to entice excitement from him had worked. The same had been true for Xander and Layna’s son, who had copied his cousin’s practiced disdain. They had succeeded very well in annoying the girls, which Xander privately assumed was their goal.

  He sighed. How he’d become the father of two teenage girls and a sullen preteen boy he didn’t know.

  “Entirely possible,” Layna said. She was standing by the vanity, all long elegant lines. He was always fascinated by the way she removed her jewelry. The way her fingers moved, the way she stood.

  But then, everything Layna did fascinated him. Now and always.

  “Can you believe the way he moves around the palace in that motorized cart of his? It’s...well, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  King Stephanos had firmly denied both death and doctors and was a very crotchety old man. Xander was the acting ruler at this point, his father not able to perform most of the functions required by the position, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still acting the figurehead. With gusto.

  “It’s that Drakos spirit,” she said. “You’re all too stubborn to be defeated.”

  He smiled. “True enough.” Ever since that day he’d reconciled with his father he’d felt like a Drakos, unquestionably. “I still hate wearing ties to these things,” he said, tugging the black scrap of silk off and letting it fall to the floor.

  Layna smiled and walked over to him, planting her hands on the bed on either side of him, leaning down for a kiss. “The torture you’re subjected to,” she said, smiling that special smile of hers.

  He kissed the crease by the corner of her mouth. “I know it.”

  “So tell me, Xander Drakos, heir to the throne, have you ever regretted coming back?”

  “Not once. I would wear a tie every day of my life so long as I spent those days with you.”

  “Now that was the right answer.”

  “I’m getting pretty good at this husband thing.”

  “You’ve been good at it for a while,” she said.

  She kissed him again, deeper, more passionately. And then he was lost. As he always was with her. Years hadn’t diminished their need for each other, their love.

  Much, much later, Xander held his wife against his chest, threading his fingers through her hair, stroking her scar-roughened cheek.

  “Layna Drakos, you make me very glad that I stopped running.”

  * * * * *

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ALESSANDRO DIOMEDI, KING of Maldinia, opened the door to the opulent reception room and gazed resolutely upon the woman intended to be his bride. Liana Aterno, the daughter of the duke of Abruzzo, stood in the centre of the room, her body elegant and straight, her gaze clear and steady and even cold. She looked remarkably composed, considering the situation.

  Carefully Sandro closed the door, the final click seeming to sound the end of his freedom. But no, that was being fanciful, for his freedom had surely ended six months ago, when he’d left his life in California to return to Maldinia and accept his place as first in line to the throne. Any tattered remnant of it had gone when he’d buried his father and taken his place as king.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ His voice seemed to echo through the large room with its gilt walls and frescoed ceilings, the only furniture a few ornate tables of gold and marble set against the walls. Not exactly the most welcoming of spaces, and for a moment Sandro wished he’d specified to put Lady Liana into a more comfortable chamber.

  Although, he acknowledged cynically, considering the nature of their imminent discussion—and probable relationship—perhaps this room was appropriate.

  ‘Good afternoon, Your Highness.’ She didn’t curtsey, which he was glad of, because he hated all the ostentatious trappings of royalty and obeisance, but she did bend her head in a gesture of respect so for a moment he could see the bare, vulnerable nape of her neck. It almost made him soften. Then she lifted her head and pinned him with that cold, clear-eyed gaze and he felt his heart harden once more. He didn’t want this. He never would. But she obviously did.

  ‘You had a pleasant journey?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  He took a step into the room, studying her. He supposed she was pretty, if you liked women who were colourless. Her hair was so blonde it appeared almost white, and she wore it pulled back in a tight chignon, a few wispy tendrils coming to curl about her small, pearl-studded ears.