by Robyn Grady
Helene coughed out a laugh. She wanted to throw her arms around Darius but she was afraid she might make him drop the true treasure he held, so, instead she found her voice along with a trembling smile.
“You’re going to make a great king.”
“I’d rather make a great husband.”
Those words stole her breath. He didn’t let her recover. The shocks kept right on coming.
“I know you think you’re all thumbs,” he said. “That maybe I’m worried what you might fumble next. But as far as I’m concerned, everything you’ve touched is gold. If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t feel so sure about my future here. I wouldn’t feel so lucky to have found you. To have found…”
“Your Highness!”
Helene spun toward the cry. Yanni barreled over. His face was ashen.
“People are gathering outside the gates. News has spread. Pamphlets are circulating. It’s been on the radio, on television.”
While Helene’s mind leaped to earthquake, war, tidal wave, Darius stepped forward. “What’s happened?”
“Someone learned about that other figurine. That it was brought back from the island. That it was destroyed. They’re saying…”
When his gaze dropped, Darius prodded.
“What are they saying?”
“That a foreigner, a woman, broke it into a million pieces.”
Darius’s voice was firm. “What else?”
“They say you are bewitched. That she tricked you into a marriage proposal.” Yanni’s complexion turned white when he ground out the words. “They’re accusing her of carrying another man’s child.”
Darius handed the figurine to Yanni and charged off. Her legs heavy as lead pipes, Helene trailed behind.
“How many are outside the gates?” Darius asked Yanni as they strode.
“The number grows by the minute.”
“Any signs of violence? Weapons?”
“Not yet. The helicopter’s prepared.” Yanni scrambled to keep up with the prince’s long strides. “If they don’t disperse, we shouldn’t take any chances.”
“The guard?”
“Are at the gates and surround the perimeter of the palace. One last thing… A photo accompanies the articles. A picture of you and your uncle taken this morning at the taverna in town.”
Helene lost her step. “At Alexio’s?”
Nausea rose in her chest, in her throat. Suddenly everything Darius warned her about had become reality. Unrest rising in the city. Superstition taking the place of common sense. Her mother had cautioned that she should keep in mind that while other countries might appear exotic and exciting, they had their own rules and ways of handling problems. It seemed she was the problem now.
They traveled up to the second story to a room with a balcony overlooking the front grounds and gate. While Darius strode out to hold onto the railing and take in the scene, Helene hung back with Yanni. She felt cold all over, as if she’d stepped into some bizarre, otherworld reality. She was the cause of all this anger and fear. This couldn’t be happening.
Noise was swelling. People called out. Occasionally a woman wailed. Helene wanted to rush out and set them all straight. The goddess was safe; soon they would see for themselves. And while Darius had proposed to her, she wasn’t carrying another man’s child. And even if she was, was that a reason to start a riot?
But her thoughts reeled back to that hand-written story…to how that crowd hadn’t wanted to listen. A feeling of dread swept her, leaving her dizzy and sick. The royal guard wouldn’t let anyone slip through. Surely the police would be here soon.
A man appeared beside her whom Yanni immediately recognized. The Chief Aide bowed.
“Your Highness.”
The man touched Yanni’s shoulder. “Hello, old friend.” Then he gazed out over the disturbance outside while Yanni filled him in.
His face lined with concern, the man looked to her. “You must be Helene. I am Darius’s uncle Galen.”
Galen radiated an air of calm even in these circumstances. When he squeezed her hand, she instantly felt reassured, perhaps because Darius’s uncle also knew how it felt to be the reason behind this kind of unrest.
…
Darius returned from the balcony. He acknowledged his uncle then spoke to Yanni. “The police?”
“Some units are out there now, trying to disperse the most vocal.”
“But they’ll only come back,” Darius surmised.
Galen added, “And they’ll be angrier. More organized.”
Darius’s pensive look evaporated into decision. “I’ll speak to them.”
Holding his glasses, Yanni shook his head. “Wait ‘til it calms down.”
“This won’t wait.” Darius headed off again. “Send word to open the gates.”
Yanni called after him. “I advise against it. You should leave.”
Stopping at the door, Darius spun around. “If I fly out of here now, how will I ever return? I’ll be seen as a coward, as a push over. As if I’m guilty. But if I make a stand and give them the truth—”
“Someone will have a gun,” Yanni pressed.
Galen indicated Helene. “Take her, Darius, and get out of here.”
Darius froze for an instant before clamping shut his eyes. When he opened them, he looked to Helene and searched her face as if it held some magical answer.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
Helene felt the blood drain to her feet. She wasn’t qualified to offer an opinion. She was the cause of this all. But she was also carrying his baby. Above all else, her responsibility lay with protecting their unborn child. Darius would know that, too.
Darius went on, his eyes pleading. “If you think we should leave, we’ll leave. We’ll go now.”
The din had grown louder. Outside, debris was being hurled onto the lawn, but it was all a misunderstanding. While there was a crowd, it wasn’t the entire population—just a segment who needed answers, and fast.
Filling her lungs, thinking of what this decision would mean to everyone involved, she joined him. “Let’s go down.”
Darius snatched a kiss then led them all downstairs.
Wading through a sea of concerned staff—administrative and domestic—they reached the enormous front doors. Darius moved out onto the terrace. Leaving the doors open, he took a stand at the top of the wide arc of stairs. Helene stayed inside with Yanni and Galen. The next moment, Tahlia was there, too.
Helene filled her friend in while Tahlia’s eyes grew wider and wider. She held Helene’s arm.
“We don’t need to worry.” Tahlia stopped to swallow deeply, to find her courage. “Darius will make them understand. And the guard…they won’t let anyone get hurt.”
Neither of them dared to mention how the guard in that story—in real life a hundred years ago—had turned against those they were meant to protect.
As the palace gates swung slowly open, the crowd flooded in—mainly working-class men, but some dressed in suits. Women were sprinkled throughout, a number of whom were carrying children on their hips.
The guard had formed an equipped arc around the lip of the terrace and stairs. Now Darius raised his hands to quiet the clamor.
“You’ve seen some news bulletins,” he said in a firm, loud voice, “ and read some pamphlets. None of what you saw or read is true.”
“She’s not pregnant?” someone called out.
“You’re not marrying her?” called another.
“We want to see the goddess!” a different voice demanded, and the racket spiraled again.
Darius held up his hands a second time.
“I have proposed to this woman. And, yes, she is carrying a child. My child.”
At the front of the crowd, an arm shot up, shaking a piece of paper. Accusations flew again.
“It says she tricked you.”
“She was on the sacred island.”
“She tried to steal our goddess.”
“She destroyed her—sha
ttered her to bits!”
Darius shouted over the row. “The fertility figurine is here with us, just inside those doors. A different piece was broken last night, a replica. The real goddess has been hidden away for centuries. But now—soon—you’ll be able to see her any time you please.”
The crowd had quieted as they craned to see and hear. Then a skeptical voice spoke out.
“Why should we believe you?”
“We don’t want her as our queen!”
Darius stood tall. The air seemed to ripple with the depth of his resolve. “Helene Masters doesn’t have to be anyone’s queen,” he told them. “We can both leave now and never come back.”
While Helene held onto Tahlia’s arm for support, the crowd gasped. Even a guard or two turned around.
“I’ve always wanted to be a good king,” Darius went on. “I wanted to have your respect, to give you mine. But I won’t turn my back on my family. I won’t do that for any reason. I love Helene. We will spend the rest of our lives together whether it is here or someplace else. We will have this child and, God willing, other children too.”
While Helene tried to absorb what he’d just said—that he would give up his kingdom for her, that he was in love with her—Darius moved closer to the crowd.
“If you want to believe the media reports over what I’m telling you now, that’s your choice.” His words were stone. “I’ve already made mine.”
He waited a moment before turning to go inside. When he was almost at the door, another voice rang out.
“We want to see the goddess.”
Others joined in.
“Where is she?”
“Bring her out now.”
Beside Helene, Yanni stiffened and Otis appeared, taking his place beside Tahlia. After gathering her in his arms for a moment, Otis looked out at the crowd and pried himself away.
“I’ll go and stand with your brother,” Otis said.
But Helene stepped in. “No. I should go.”
She took the figurine from Yanni. If Darius had faith in her, the least she could do was have faith in herself.
She and Darius met at the doorway and together they walked back out to face the crowd. Darius took the figurine and held it above his head.
“This is the goddess. A symbol of our longevity and unity. From now on, she’s yours.”
While the crowd stirred and murmured, he walked down the stairs, moving between two guards. A wary man edged up and studied the figurine. As he moved away, clearly satisfied, another came up, and then another. After several moments, once the pack hushed, Darius headed back up the stairs. On the terrace again, he stood ready to face any more accusations or complaints, but no one raised their voice. With the majority looking appeased, people began to wander away.
Finally, Darius turned, and together they moved back through the doors.
Otis ventured out on the terrace and returned with a report. “They’re all drifting out through the gates.”
Darius handed the figurine to Yanni. “I’ll let you take care of this.”
As Yanni moved off, Galen studied his nephew and then hugged him. Helene heard him murmur, “Your father would be proud.”
Darius seemed to slump against the other man then inhaled deeply and drew away. Then Galen, Tahlia, and Otis, along with the relieved staff, moved off.
Darius took Helene’s hand and drew her into the closest available room—the library. Once the door was closed, he gathered her into the strong circle of his arms and kissed her with a passion that left her weak.
“I’ve fallen in love with the most beautiful, bravest woman in the world,” he murmured, tracing a palm over her cheek. “I can’t wait to meet our child.”
He released her only to fold one of her hands in his and press it to his chest. His heart pounded just as hard as hers. She was so relieved, so in love, she wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry.
“I don’t want to abdicate…”
“You won’t need to,” she slipped in.
“But I will, if it means keeping you.”
More emotion surged to prickle behind her eyes and clog her throat. She felt hot, happy tears edge her eyes. “You’d do that for me?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“You’re sure?”
He drew her close again. With his brow pressed against hers and his smiling eyes searching hers, he let her know, “My heritage is one that believes in omens. If the sun rises on a fine day of the coronation, it will be a long and successful reign. If a released dove circles three times and returns, the year will be a fruitful one.” His head angled as his gaze dropped to her lips. “And if I kiss you now and you kiss me back then you’ll know that I’m certain. That I love you. Today. Forever.”
As tears curled around and tickled her chin, slowly and deliberately, his mouth captured hers. When they joined, there was no question. No doubt. With all her heart and being, Helene leaned in to embrace her only love and kissed him back.
When his lips left hers, he stayed close and asked, “Do you love me, Helene?”
She bit her lip then let out a sob of pure joy. “So much.”
“And you’ll marry me? Be my wife?’
Not so long ago she’d led an ordinary existence. But Darius was a long way from that. And from this day forward, his life would also be hers.
She cupped his jaw and, already knowing the answer, asked the question. “We’re going to be happy, Darius, aren’t we?”
A heartbeat before his mouth slanted over hers again, he assured her. “My love, so very happy.”
Epilogue
Diving, Acacia grabbed the figurine, spun on the balls of her feet and, shaking, drew the carved stone over her head like a boy ready to cast a ball. She would have hit the man’s head, cracked it wide open and rejoiced in his death and their freedom, except the pop of a pistol came first.
Leandros’s head jolted back. He clutched his chest at the same time a much smaller man bolted into the chamber. The man with the gun stumbled back, and then Acacia saw. She understood. These weren’t rebels. They hadn’t come to cut them down.
They were here to help.
The palace’s Chief Aide rushed over. His hands braced her arms.
“Princess, are you unharmed? Who is the man? Did he abduct you? Harm you?”
She knocked him out of the way and scrambled to Leandros’s side. On her knees, her palms pressed against his bloodied shirt, she begged him as tears coursed down her face. “Don’t leave,” she whispered. “Not yet. Stay with me. Please, please, my love, don’t go.”
The Chief Aide’s voice came from behind. “We need to move.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“When we discovered the boat, I guessed you’d found shelter in here. I should have walked in front. I take full responsibility. But this man is dead—”
“No,” she said. Leandros wouldn’t leave her, not this way. Not ever.
The Chief Aide’s voice was at her ear now.
“The rebellion has been quashed. The leaders are imprisoned and awaiting trial. We must get the young prince back to claim the thrown as soon as possible.”
She swallowed against the aching sob rising in her throat. She ground out, “We’re not going back.”
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard.”
“We must leave now—”
“We’re not going back.” She snapped at him, ferocious and determined.
The Aide blinked, shook his head in a tight swift motion, and then resumed his calm voice. “You’re exhausted. Frightened.”
“I am grieving,” she cried out, but she didn’t crumble. Rather, she dug her fingers into the still warm chest and after an anguished moment, kissed the man she would always love one last time, giving him a lingering embrace that both coddled and shredded her heart. Steeling herself, she stroked his brow then stood, tall and proud, as a princess would.
“You will take us far away from here,” she commanded. “You do it now or I will f
ind a way myself.”
“But the rebels—”
“Killed my sister-in-law,” she cut in. “Murdered my brother. Took a dear friend, and I have no idea how many others have paid the price tonight. I made a promise and I won’t break it.” She collected the baby and pressed her lips to his soft crown. “We will never return.” With tears strangling her throat, she croaked out, “I won’t take the chance.”
The Chief Aide blinked several times as if deliberating what best to do with her. But Acacia’s mind was so clear, so set. She would do this for her brother, her nephew, but most of all for the man who had loved her as she would always love him.
The Chief Aide grunted. “Your father would want me to say that peace should be maintained at any cost. Resuming full order will be made more difficult without a sovereign to carry on.”
“Then get someone else. Tell them you found the prince. Set another babe up to be a pawn if your conscience allows, but I am done.” Her gaze dropped to Leandros and her heart squeezed. “My father can ask no more of me.”
She’d dropped the figurine at Leandros’s side. Now the Chief Aide set their goddess back on her ledge. The centuries old secret hidden within the walls of this cave would remain safe with her.
Perhaps if she were lucky, the goddess would have looked kindly upon the time she and Leandros had spent together here. In the coming weeks, she would find comfort in the hope of perhaps being fortunate enough to keep a part of him with her forever. As the four left the chamber and traveled toward the cave’s moonlit mouth, she prayed she was indeed fertile and that nature, along with spirit, was at work even now.
If he was a boy, he would be named after his father.
A girl?
Acacia remembered and found a smile. Leandros had once compared her to the greatest beauty the world had ever known.
If this child was a girl, she would call her Helene.
Acknowledgments
With thanks to my editor, Liz Pelletier, for her brilliant suggestions and attention to every detail.
About the Author