CHAPTER EIGHT
HELIASTOODBEFORE the large mirror in the bedroom, painting a deep red colour on her lips. She had been told that as Queen she would need to be ready to be photographed at any time. Day or night. If she was in public, she was fair game. And, while she hoped they would have privacy in this secluded, empty resort, there were still boats out on the water. Who knew which of those were equipped with telephoto lenses? Helia couldn’t take any chances.
The sun had gone down, but the air was still warm. Which was a good thing, because the white toga-like dress she wore offered little protection from the elements.
Vasili had left a note saying they would be dining together. She supposed that to the world they were on honeymoon, and it would be highly unusual if they weren’t seen together.
As Helia walked along the path, she couldn’t stop thinking about their time in the pool earlier.
She had been apprehensive about accepting his offer, but the idea that she could learn to do something she had always wanted to had been too tempting.
Vasili had been kind and patient. He’d made her feel at ease despite her anxiety in the water. It had been hours of him holding her and touching her. Hours of her heart skipping a beat with every one of those touches. And his voice... It had poured over her like silk.
She had revelled in his attention, despite the fact that she knew she should have kept her distance, and had fought hard to listen to his instructions—before he had pulled back so hard all she could compare it to was a rubber band snapping back after being stretched to its limit.
Spending time with her couldn’t have been so abhorrent to him, could it?
Except it could. Her mere existence had been enough for her uncle to toss her away.
Vasili had fled. And she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Well, apart from the invitation to dinner...
Helia followed the long path until she came to a large deck that extended out onto the sand. Upon it was a single, square table with two chairs, laid with a setting for two. A candle sat in the middle with a dancing flame. And there sat Vasili in a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. His eyes, his hair, seemed so much darker in the muted light.
A dark prince.
No.
A dark king.
She noticed his eyes widen briefly as she stepped into view, but he quickly recovered, moving to pull out her chair, which he helped her onto before joining her at the table.
‘Is something wrong?’ Helia racked her brain, still trying to figure out her mistake in the pool.
Vasili simply shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
She knew that was a lie.
‘You look beautiful.’
‘Th-thank you,’ she stuttered, feeling off balance.
She looked over his shoulder, just able to make out the water. The sounds of lapping waves formed the soundtrack to their dinner.
‘Wine?’ he offered.
‘Yes, please.’
Helia could see he was stiff, despite trying to put on an air of ease, and there was something off about the way he spoke to her.
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, taking a sip of the fruity wine.
‘About what?’ Vasili was busy pouring himself a glass.
‘When you say nothing is wrong. We’ve only been married two days and already I know something is off. Tell me what I’ve done.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Helia.’
‘How can I not? We’re supposed to be honest with each other, remember?’
Helia thought back to the pool. Everything had been fine and then he’d withdrawn. As if a switch had been flipped. She couldn’t recall doing anything to upset him, which left only her actual presence. She should have refused him in the first place.
‘I remember. And if something was wrong, I would talk to you about it.’ He glanced away from her as something caught his attention. ‘The food is arriving.’
‘Please don’t insult my intelligence.’
She leaned back in her chair and plastered a pleasant smile on her face, thanking the servers as they laid a starter between the two of them. It was a honeymoon dinner meant to be shared between a happy newlywed couple. Not two people awkwardly navigating a marriage of convenience.
Marinated olives, dips and sliced wedges of pitta sat between them. Helia could picture other honeymooning couples feeding each other. A meal to bring couples even closer together. A seduction before returning to their room.
As soon as the servers walked away from the table she leaned forward and spoke softly enough that they wouldn’t be overheard. ‘If you would like, I can go. I can feign some illness...perhaps say I’ve spent too long in the sun...so no one would be any the wiser.’
His molars locked. ‘I don’t want that.’
Helia sighed. ‘Fine. Then how about this? A thought for a thought. I’m currently thinking that I did something to offend you earlier, and that if we remain together like this people are going to know something is wrong between their king and queen. So I’m going to offer you a solution. I don’t want you to feel forced to spend time with me. For image or for any reason whatsoever. I am well aware of what this marriage is supposed to be, given all I have to think about. We have complete privacy here—you’ve made sure of that. So you should use this time to mourn your brother in peace and I will respect your privacy.’
Vasili hated himself. Had he thought the way he’d left earlier wouldn’t be noticed? That Helia wouldn’t take his leaving as a reflection on herself? She had done nothing wrong and yet here she still sat with him, so poised, any emotion on lockdown, offering him a kindness.
He had wounded her. For that he should be the one punished. And yet Helia was the one hurting. It was obvious in her words. She told him he wouldn’t have to spend time with her as if that was something to suffer through. Despite whatever negative feelings he had her experiencing, she still considered his feelings. His grief. When had anyone ever done that?
She had known him only a few days, but had already shown him a support he hadn’t experienced. He hadn’t known it could feel like this. As if there was an immovable wall at his back. Someone to say, I’ve got you.
But he couldn’t accept the offer. Tempting as it was. He wouldn’t mourn when it was convenient. He wouldn’t ask for help. The void that had been torn into him when he’d been told his brother was dead only yawned wider, but he would deal with his grief just as he had dealt with everything else in his life. Alone.
And just like that the safety of that wall disintegrated and he was alone, fighting through the world on his own again.
‘That won’t be necessary, Helia.’
He reached over, picking up a piece of pitta to give his hands something to do, somewhere safe to focus, and spread dip along the bread. He noticed that apart from her sip of wine Helia reached for nothing else. Once the bread was loaded to his satisfaction he placed it on her plate, wishing he could pull her onto his lap and feed her instead.
‘Vasili...’
Was that exasperation in her tone?
‘Helia...?’ he mimicked, and chuckled at the unimpressed look on her face. ‘I am sorry for the way I left earlier, but I don’t need time to mourn.’
‘Of course you do. Everyone does.’
‘“Everyone” doesn’t have the same responsibilities I do,’ he replied as he took a bite of his own bread, happy to see Helia had done the same.
‘No, they don’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to ignore your needs. You don’t have to deal with everything alone, you know.’
If she only knew. ‘I’m not alone. I’m with a beautiful woman.’
‘You’re changing the subject.’
She plucked an olive from the bowl, and his body stirred to life as he watched her bring it to her lips and close her eyes as she savoured the taste. But then she blinked, tilting her head to the side. Something he’d noticed she did whenever she was trying to understand him.
‘Why is that?’ she asked.
‘I’m not changing the subject.’
‘And now you’re lying. You have a tell. Did you know that?’
‘What?’
‘You blink and look away,’ Helia said matter-of-factly.
‘It seems to me you have far too much time on your hands if you’ve been studying me so closely.’
‘And now you’re deflecting.’ She smirked.
This woman. She was driving him crazy.
‘Fine, we’ll talk about something else,’ she said. ‘You’ve been here before?’
The change of topic seemed safe, but Vasili had the distinct impression that he was not the one on higher ground in this conversation.
‘I have.’
‘I imagine the parties here would be rather spectacular.’
She was fishing, and the realisation had a smile curving his lips. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘You wouldn’t?’ She frowned.
‘I wouldn’t, because I have only ever come here alone.’
She constantly made him feel as if he was standing on quicksand—well, now he saw an opportunity to flip the tables on her.
‘This is where I come when I need some privacy. A bit of peace and quiet away from everyone.’
She was about to take a bite, but placed her food back down. ‘But you’ve brought me here. Why would you do that?’
Vasili reached over and picked an olive off her plate, popping it into his mouth. ‘Why, indeed.’
‘I don’t always understand you,’ she confessed softly.
‘Well, then, maybe you need to study harder.’
The idea that someone would know him was enticing—because no one had ever bothered to. The only person who had was taken from him when he was a teenager and all those who were left would never see the value in his existence. Vasili had never invested his time in relationships because they were fleeting anyway, but he knew that he risked becoming a cold ruler who thought only of the Kingdom and not of his wife.
Wouldn’t he then become the very thing he didn’t want to be? Just like his parents? Of course he would. But want wasn’t need, and he needed to ensure that he never let Helia behind his walls. If only she’d agreed to his terms they would have something else to focus on, and he could distract her in ways that kept him safe.
That night, when they climbed into bed and Vasili turned down the lights, he was prepared for his body’s response to his wife.
Preparation didn’t make it any easier to bear.
‘Vasili?’ Her voice cut through the darkness.
‘Hmm?’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything.’
‘Why do you hate it so much?’
‘Hate what?’
‘The throne. The title. Everything.’
He trained his eyes on a spot in the distance. With all the doors and windows open, he could see a sliver of moonlight cast across the craggy cliffs. He didn’t know how much to reveal, so he opted for the shortest, safest answer.
‘It’s a cage.’
It caged one’s heart, so one could never show real love to those who deserved to receive it. Caged one’s spirit, so one would always be what the institution expected. Caged one’s soul, so one would never have true freedom.
He knew Helia would be reading something into the silence that followed. She was perceptive. Intelligent. She would know there was so much he wasn’t saying.
‘I know I haven’t agreed to your terms yet, and that we may never have a traditional marriage and I won’t expect one. But maybe we could be friends.’
He could tell she was waiting for him to respond, and when he didn’t, she went on.
‘I just think we could both use a friend on this journey, or it could be a very long, very unhappy life. And I don’t think either of us deserves that.’
Still, he couldn’t respond.
She let out a sigh and turned over so her back was to him. ‘Just think about it. Goodnight, Vasili.’
He lay there in the dark night, listening to the ocean and replaying her words in his head. Finally, he heard her breath even out, and once she was soundly asleep he said, ‘I don’t know how to be a friend, Helia. All I know is how to be alone.’