Pretender to the Throne. Maisey Yates
catch his attention, when she’d moved in such a sparkling and sometimes cutthroat circle, it had been the best way to communicate.
They had all been like that. Pretending to be so bored by their surroundings, showing their cool with cutting remarks and brittle laughter. It struck her then that Xander had changed, too. He hadn’t joined a convent, but he lacked the air of the smug aristocrat he used to carry himself with.
He still had that lazy smile, that wicked mouth. But beneath the glitter in his eyes, she sensed something deeper now. Something dark. Something that made her stomach clench and her heart pound.
“I apologize,” she said. “That was neither gracious nor appropriate. I’m ready to go.”
He shrugged and took her suitcase from her, starting to walk across the expanse of green. She followed him, over the hill and to the lot where a red sports car was parked.
“I’m a cliché,” he said. “The playboy prince. It would be embarrassing if it weren’t so much fun.”
“There’s more to life than fun.”
“But fun is a part of it,” he countered.
“Certainly.”
He deposited her suitcase in the trunk of the car. “I think you might have forgotten the fun part,” he said.
“You have that covered for the both of us, I think.” She moved her hand in a wide sweep, like she was presenting the car on a game show.
He smiled. “You have no idea.”
For some reason that smile, that statement, made her stomach tight. “I imagine I don’t.”
“Why don’t you get in the car and we can continue this while we head back down to Thysius?”
She hadn’t been to the capitol in a couple of years, and just the thought of it filled her with dread. “What exactly are we doing?”
“Get in the car.”
Fear wrapped its fingers around her throat, the desire to turn and run almost overwhelming. But she didn’t. “Not yet. Where are we staying? What are we going to do?”
“The palace,” he said. “You’re familiar with it.”
“Yes.” Much too familiar. There was a time when it would have been her home. When she would have been the queen. Memories that seemed like they belonged in another life were crowding in, trying to remind her of all the things she’d tried so hard to let go of.
“The press will think it’s all sensational.” He opened his door and got inside and she stood outside, looking at her warped reflection in the slightly rounded window.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She pulled the car door open and got inside, closing it behind her.
The leather interior smelled new. And an awful lot like money. Such a strange contrast to the old stone walls of the convent. When he turned the key and the engine roared to life she couldn’t help but think it was a very strange contrast. The pristine newness. The noise. So different than the ancient quiet she’d lived in for so long.
“This is the story that I need. You and me, collaborating on bringing the country into a new era.”
“Why do I feel a bit like you just told me together we will rule the galaxy as father and son....”
“Are you saying I’m asking you to join the Dark Side?”
“I feel like it.”
“Seems a strange reference for a nun.”
“I’m not a nun, actually. Not yet. I’m a novice.” And she had been for a near record amount of time. Speaking of movies, her life was becoming a bit “How do you solve a problem like Maria.”
“And I do watch movies,” she said. “There isn’t a lot that happens up here, and we aren’t all serious all the time.”
He pulled out of the parking area and onto the road. And she wasn’t “here” anymore, either. She was leaving. Heading into the world. Away from the convent, away from the village. Into the city. Toward people. And the press.
Panic clawed at her, a desperate beast trying to escape. But she held it in. Did she pray for serenity or was this part of her test? To do what she didn’t want, for it to be hard. To have to persevere.
Suddenly, she just felt angry. She hadn’t asked for any of this. Not for Xander to come back, not to have to be in the public eye again.
She hadn’t asked to be attacked. To have her life stolen from her. And hadn’t she taken it and turned it into something worthy? Why was she having to do this now?
Fear was doing its best to take her over completely. And its best was far too good for her taste. The farther she got from her home, the closer they drew to the capitol city, the more it grew.
She was shaking. A tremor that seemed to start from the inside and built outward until her teeth were chattering. She tightened her hands into fists, trying to will it to stop. But she didn’t have the strength.
They took so much. He took so much. Don’t let them have anything else.
That voice. That strong, quiet voice inside of her made the shaking stop. Because it was right. Too much of her pain belonged to Xander, to the people of Kyonos, and she wouldn’t give them one bit more.
She would help. Help restore the nation, get it all back on track, get Xander into a good position. But she wouldn’t give of herself. Her actions, her presence, yes. But nothing of her.
“It isn’t just you,” he said, his voice rough.
“What?”
“You aren’t the only one who will be judged.”
He was so in tune with her train of thought that she was almost afraid she’d voiced her fears out loud. “Maybe not. But I’m the only one of us who didn’t earn the judgment.”
It was true, even if it was unkind. So, okay, maybe she wasn’t holding back all of herself from Xander. She was letting him have some of her anger.
He laughed and the car engine roared louder, the cypress trees outside the window turning into an indistinct blur of green as he accelerated. “Very true. I did earn mine. And I had a hell of a lot of fun doing it.”
CHAPTER THREE
XANDER FELT LIKE he sometimes did after a night of heavy drinking. His head hurt. His stomach was unsettled. And memories pushed at the edges of his mind, threatening to crowd into the forefront.
Yes, it was just like the aftermath of being drunk. Or being hungover was a bit like coming home.
He paused the car at the gate. Stavros didn’t know he was coming. It had been a phone call he hadn’t been certain he could make. Stavros might bring up the option of hurling himself into the sea again and he might end up taking him up on it. Instead of returning to this.
He picked his phone up and dialed Stavros’s number.
“Are you at the palace?” Xander asked when he heard an answer on the other end.
“I am not.” Stavros’s response was measured.
“Where are you then?”
“Vacation. My wife wanted to go to Greece and my children are enjoying a slight change of pace. Palace life is quite boring to them, I fear.”
“I do remember the drudgery,” he said, looking up at the turrets, bright white against a sun-bleached sky.
And he was walking back into it. Back into the past. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.
He wanted to run again in that moment. Because he could remember what had pushed him to it now, all too easily.
Blood.