A knock came on the door but whoever it was didn’t wait to be admitted. The door opened to reveal the king himself.
The flutter in her stomach increased.
The king said nothing, merely gave the staff who’d been helping Calista prepare a look and instantly they vanished out of the door, leaving her alone with him.
Adonis Nikolaides was slightly taller and broader than Xerxes, a warrior rather than a diplomat. His features were rougher, blunter, a statue of a god that had been worn over time rather than freshly carved like his brother. And carved out of granite rather than marble.
Power, authority, and brute strength radiated from every inch of him, his piercing blue eyes sharp as swords; he looked as if he should be on the battlefield in armour, wielding an axe, rather than dressed in the black-and-gold uniform of the Axian army, his chest covered in medals and ribbons.
Instinctively, Calista clicked her heels together and bowed.
The king’s straight black brows rose. ‘Since you’re not in uniform, a curtsey would be more appropriate,’ he said, his voice harsh, like stones grinding against one another.
Calista flushed. ‘I apologise, Your Majesty.’
He said nothing, merely eyed her.
There was a long moment of silence and Calista felt every second.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said at last, unable to stand it any more. ‘How can I be of—’
‘Are you in love with my brother?’ the king interrupted. ‘Because if you’re not, if the baby is not his and you’re merely using him to get a better life for yourself, I will make things very difficult for you.’
Shock swept through her, along with a chill that settled right down in her gut.
This wasn’t only the threat of a king, it was also the threat of an older brother who’d do anything to protect his younger sibling.
What did you expect? That the king himself would welcome you with open arms?
Calista swallowed, the memory of that day in the living room of the house on the coast replaying through her head. Of Xerxes, tall and strong and powerful, a prince in every line of him, kneeling in front of her as if she was the one who was royal.
It had made her feel afraid, made doubt catch hard inside her.
He shouldn’t have knelt to her, shouldn’t have looked up at her, fierce and full of heat, as if she was something worth looking at. As if she was worthy.
As if he cared about her.
He does care. And you know it.
Her throat closed up, her heart tight and painful behind her ribs, because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair on him that she could never care for him in return.
The king was looking at her, obviously wanting an answer, but she had only one to give him.
‘No,’ she said, ignoring the hoarse edge to her voice. ‘I don’t love him. And for what it’s worth, Your Majesty, I’m not using him. I didn’t actually want to marry him, but Xerxes had other ideas.’
‘Did he?’ The king’s blue gaze glittered. ‘And what did you want?’
Calista lifted her chin. ‘I only wanted to serve my country. But—’
‘Xerxes had other ideas?’ he echoed.
She flushed, but didn’t look away. ‘Yes.’
There was speculation in the king’s eyes. ‘So why are you marrying him?’
‘Because he didn’t give me a choice.’ She smoothed her hands down her gown again, the cold feeling inside her getting stronger. ‘And because this baby needs a father.’
‘I see. And if you weren’t pregnant? Would you still marry him?’
A bitter, hard truth settled inside her.
‘No,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper. ‘I wouldn’t.’
The king didn’t show any surprise or shock. ‘Why not?’
She took a breath. ‘Because he...cares for me, I think. And I will never be able to give that back to him. I will never be able to give him what he deserves.’
Something flickered over the king’s granite features. ‘You’re honest, I’ll give you that. And you’re right, he deserves more. He’s endured much these past few years and none of it has been easy for him. I don’t want to see him hurt.’ The king paused, studying her a little longer. ‘You should not have to give up the life you wanted either. Would you like to be given the choice, Calista? To stay or to leave?’
Did she? She wasn’t sure.
‘I can’t leave. He’ll follow me.’
‘Yes,’ the king agreed. ‘He will. In that case, after the party, come to me. I can help you to leave if you choose to, hide you from my brother, if that’s what you want. You and your child will be cared for, I give you my word.’
Calista stared at him, at his hard face, at the glitter of something fierce in the ice of his eyes. It was clear he cared about his brother as much as Xerxes cared about him.
Xerxes deserves better. He deserves better than you.
Something inside her dropped away. She felt dizzy and a little ill. ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ she said blankly, her lips numb. ‘I’ll consider it.’
He gave a nod. ‘See that you do.’
The door opened suddenly, and Xerxes came striding into the room.
He was dressed in the same uniform as his brother, black and gold, with medals and ribbons, but perhaps not quite as many as the king. He didn’t need them though. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, the gold in his uniform echoing the gleam of gold deep in his dark eyes, the black highlighting the inky darkness of his hair.
The uniform fitted him to perfection, outlining his wide shoulders and narrow hips, his muscular chest and powerful thighs. He was every inch the handsome prince, radiating strength and authority, and his own special brand of lethal charm.
He is worth so much more than what you can ever give him.
Calista’s fingers were cold, so she curled them into her palms to warm them.
Xerxes stopped dead as he spotted Adonis, and frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’
His brother lifted a shoulder. ‘Merely saying hello to my future sister-in-law.’
‘Well, now you’ve done so, you can leave,’ Xerxes said gracelessly. ‘Goodbye, Your Majesty.’
Adonis’ granite expression betrayed nothing. He merely gave Calista one more piercing look before withdrawing from the room.
‘What did he want?’ Xerxes came over to her, reaching out and drawing her close, as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. ‘Was he threatening towards you? Disrespectful?’ His gaze was fierce. ‘I won’t allow anyone to upset you tonight.’
He was so protective. It made her ache.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, forcing the ache away. ‘He only wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to hurt you, I think.’
‘Hurt me?’ A smile curved Xerxes’ mouth. ‘Was he worried you might be an assassin?’
‘No.’ She didn’t want to tell him what the king had actually asked her. She didn’t want to have that conversation now. ‘Is it time to go?’
His gaze narrowed, as if he was debating whether to push her, but he obviously decided there was no time, because he nodded and held out his arm. ‘I’m afraid so. Try not to look like you’re heading to your doom.’
Calista tried to smile, to ignore the growing coldness in her stomach. She put her hand on his arm instead. ‘I’ll try, Your Highness.’
He reached out and cupped her cheek, bending to brush a kiss over her lips. ‘That’s Xerxes to you. Remember that.’
But it was impossible to remember that as he took her down to the ballroom, as they were introduced to the greedy eyes of society. As he moved, tall and strong, through the crowds, his charm and easy wit making people smile. Making them nod approvingly at him and at her, too.
He introduced her to people, whispered stories in her ear about them to help her remember names—a
trick he’d learned in Europe, apparently. Some of the stories were scandalous, some of them clever, some of them designed to amuse her, but all were whispered with a smile, the boyish glint in his eyes that was for her and her alone.
It made the ice in her gut spread out, freezing the rest of her, hurting her.
He did deserve more. He was honourable and brave and strong. He was the kind of soldier she’d always wanted to be. The kind of son her father should have had. And he deserved someone who could make him feel the way he made her feel.
But she wasn’t that someone. Her love was a toxic thing. It was a weakness that led to anger, and it hurt people. It had hurt her mother. It had ruined their whole family. And if she wasn’t careful, it could ruin him.
The evening felt interminable and towards the end of it Calista slipped out onto the big terrace that overlooked Itheus, tucking herself away down one end in the shadows, where she couldn’t be seen. Just for a couple of minutes to clear her head, that was all.
It felt strange to be standing here in a golden gown, a beautiful crown on her head, when a week ago she’d been here in jeans and a T-shirt, still reeling from her pregnancy news.
She put her hands on the parapet, the stone cool underneath her fingertips, and looked out over the city below, and took a ragged breath.
‘There you are,’ a soft, deep voice said from behind her, concern edging the words. There was movement, a steadying hand settling at the base of her spine. ‘Are you are okay, Callie?’
The affectionate shortening of her name scraped along her nerve-endings, hurting her. The way his gentle hand at the base of her spine hurt her.
She shouldn’t be prolonging this and she didn’t know why she was. It wasn’t fair on him. What she should have done was accept the choice that the king had given her straight away, not gone through with this...farce.
Leaving now would hurt him immeasurably, perhaps beyond repair, but that would be a lesser pain. A ruined party and a ruined month or two rather than a ruined life. And then he’d be able to find someone else. Someone who’d love him the way he deserved to be loved.
Because she couldn’t allow herself that luxury. She was a protector, protecting was what she did, and she would protect him. Even if that meant protecting him from herself.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m okay. Just tired.’
She would go to the king after this. Tell him that her choice was to leave, and he would take her away and hide her. She would never bar Xerxes from seeing his child, but she wouldn’t have to see him again herself, not if she didn’t want to.
And if he insists? If he wants the child back in the palace?
She would cross that bridge when she came to it. Maybe she’d have to give up her child. But maybe that would be for the best. Who knew what kind of mother she’d be, after all? Given how she’d hurt her own mother, perhaps not a good one.
You can’t tell him you’re leaving.
No, she couldn’t. She knew him; he’d do everything in his power to stop her, and she couldn’t have that. Eventually, he’d see it was for the best.
His hand at the small of her back was warm and she wanted to lean into it, but she denied herself. There’d be no more of that and she’d have to get used to it.
‘Tell me,’ she said, before she could stop herself. ‘Would you have married me if there was no baby?’
He let out a breath. ‘Interesting question. What makes you ask that?’
She had no idea. No idea why her heart ached so much, why she felt as if she was falling apart inside. ‘Just thinking about your previous engagement party and how that went.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘Well, to answer your question, a couple of weeks ago, no. I wouldn’t.’
It felt like an arrow piercing her. A stupid question. Of course he wouldn’t have.
But then there was pressure at her back, his hand urging her to turn and face him, and when she did, when she looked up into his dark eyes, there was gold shining in the depths. Buried treasure just for her.
He cupped her face in his palm the way he had done back in his bedroom months earlier, his thumb soft against her cheek, and this time she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into it, craving one last touch. ‘But I would now,’ he added.
Her throat closed, her heart shredding itself inside her chest. ‘Why? I don’t bring you anything. I don’t bring political influence or money. Or connections or—’
‘I don’t need you to bring me anything. All you need to bring is you. You have everything I need.’
That gold shining in his eyes... It made her feel cold inside.
‘I told you not to care, Xerxes,’ she said, her voice hoarse.
He shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. ‘And I told you a prince will do what he wants. And if he chooses to care about you, then he will.’
She had no answer to that, because it was an argument she knew she wouldn’t win. And it was a fight she didn’t have the strength for. So all she did was lean up and kiss him, and hope that would cover the sound of her own silence.
If he noticed it, he didn’t say, and when they went back together into the ballroom for the dance they would lead, he didn’t push. He merely held her in his arms and watched her as they danced together, his gaze steady and clear.
As the evening came to a close, she thought it might be difficult to slip away without him noticing, but apparently the king had meant it when he’d said he’d help her, because some palace staff came up to Xerxes as they prepared to leave the ballroom, drawing him away in conversation.
Calista took her opportunity. She slipped silently out of the ballroom to find one of the king’s guard waiting for her, and without a word followed him down a long corridor and through a series of interconnecting rooms.
The king was waiting for her in what looked like a study, still dressed formally in his uniform. ‘Have you made a decision?’ he asked neutrally.
‘Yes.’ Calista lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and shoved away the sudden, tearing pain. She pulled on the cracked remains of her armour, the iron discipline of the soldier. ‘Please take me away, Your Majesty.’
CHAPTER TEN
XERXES STRODE INTO his brother’s office and slammed his hands down on Adonis’ desk. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded, the room echoing with the sound of his fury. ‘What have you done with her?’
Adonis looked up from his computer screen, expressionless. ‘Who?’
‘You know who I’m talking about,’ Xerxes snarled. ‘Calista.’
‘What makes you think I know where she is?’
‘Because she’s not in the palace. And I know because I’ve torn the place apart looking for her.’
He’d been detained a good quarter of an hour by some palace protocol nonsense, and then by a last-minute well-wisher who’d pulled him aside to talk to him about the condition of the Itheus sewerage system, of all things, and how it needed upgrading urgently. By the time he’d got rid of the man, another half an hour had passed, and he wanted to see where Calista was.
The strange conversation out on the terrace earlier had bothered him for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, and he wanted to talk to her about it.
But he couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in her bedroom, or his. Or anywhere else where she potentially might have been. And after he’d rounded up the entire contingent of palace guards and ordered them to find her, it soon became clear that she wasn’t in the palace at all.
Given the level of security, it was impossible for her to have been kidnapped by outside forces, which meant that someone on the inside had taken her.
Either that or she’d escaped herself. But even then she’d have needed help.
And there was only one person who had the power to help her disappear so thoroughly: his brother.
He’d interrupted something before
the engagement party, that had been clear, but Calista had shrugged it off. There had been some distress in her eyes, but he hadn’t had time to push her about it, deciding he’d do it after the party.
He’d known the whole week since arriving back from the coast that something hadn’t been right with her. She’d seemed quiet and withdrawn, and, due to all the things he’d had to organise and deal with, he hadn’t spent the time with her that he ought.
A mistake now, he could see that.
Adonis leaned back in his chair and stared at him. His brother’s blue eyes were glacial, his expression rigid. Not that he ever had any other expression that Xerxes could remember. Adonis had taken their father’s lessons in detachment and elevated it into an art form.
‘Does it matter where she’s gone?’ he asked coldly.
Xerxes had never wanted to punch him so badly in his entire life. ‘Of course it matters, damn it! She’s my fiancée and the mother of my child!’
‘Language,’ Adonis said. ‘You’re not in the barracks now.’
Xerxes bit out an even fouler curse. ‘What have you done with her? Answer me!’
His brother was silent for a long moment, staring at him. He’d once been a playful boy and a caring older brother, but that had been before their mother had died and Xenophon had turned into a rigid, hard, emotionless father whose prime concern was turning both his sons into rigid, hard, emotionless versions of himself.
Xerxes had once wanted to be exactly like that. To be the kind of prince his father had wanted him to be. To be that kind of man.
But looking at Adonis now, at the ice in his eyes and the granite in his heart, Xerxes knew with a sudden burst of realisation that he didn’t want that for himself. That maybe he’d chased it for a while in Europe, had tried to turn himself into something similar after he’d returned to Axios. But the basic truth was that he’d never wanted it.
He wanted the passion he’d found in Calista’s arms. The heat in her eyes. The fiercely proud expression on her face as she’d looked at him, as if the way he’d broken under his father’s torture and his failure to end his own life weren’t flaws, but signs of strength. Of courage. Of endurance.
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