Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Dimitrios, his guard, and half a dozen Blades approached the Nicolea estate on horseback as the dipping sun’s golden light painted its lush gardens. Olive trees and grapevines shaded stone benches where children played, and ladies sat in conversation.
The estate gates opened upon their approach, bookended by private guardsmen. The royal entourage passed by the smooth but formidable marble walls into a courtyard with a reflecting pool, greenery, and more olive trees.
A demure older woman stood outside the entrance, her hands clasped in front. The loose sleeves of her lavender-and-gold chiton fluttered in the breeze like butterfly wings.
She was an aunt, though Dimitrios didn’t yet know which one. The woman shared many of the same features as Pandora, from their dark hair color to the shape of their hazel eyes. Her hair had fewer white streaks than his mother, making her younger.
His aunt descended the steps with a smile that made his heart ache for his mother—they had the same gentle, approachable essence. “Welcome to our home, nephew. I am your Aunt Rena.”
Several groomsmen assisted him and the others with their horses while he kissed his aunt on the cheek.
“You received my message?” he asked with a light hold of her upper arms.
“We did.” Her smile faltered. “Though I do not know how much good it will do you.”
“Will he not see me?”
Rena hooked her hand around his elbow. “Come. I will explain on the way.”
At his back, Nikolas and a Blade named Sahirah silently agreed to follow him inside.
Sahirah was as tall as most men, and her skin was such a dark brown that her sharp features were difficult to discern within the shadows of her hood.
Her straight black hair was braided and hung forward across one shoulder.
A quiet yet fierce woman, she was among the few females in the Assassin’s Guild and was now Second to their new Master Blade, Cain.
Dimitrios was sad to learn of Oskar’s decision to leave the Guild—he was yet another ally gone. However, Dimitrios took heart in knowing that Oskar had joined the Entia’s crew. Selene needed all the help she could get.
Nikolas’s men and the remaining Blades positioned themselves in the courtyard, earning curious eyes from the Nicolea guards and groomsmen. Now that they were on his family’s estate, they didn’t expect trouble but would remain vigilant.
Rena strode across floors of polished stone and mosaic tiles, squeezed tight to Dimitrios’s side as if they’d been close his entire life. “I’m sorry I missed Pandora while she was here.”
“As was she.”
“Is she happy?” Rena lifted her bright face to look at him. “What is her husband like? A good man, I hope.”
Dimitrios eased to a stop within the shadow of an exterior walkway that surrounded a second courtyard. Marble statues of robed men and women stood between every column of the walkway’s overhanging roof.
“I mean no offense,” he said, “but if you wanted these answers, you had five months to get them.”
She lowered her chin. “My father is very…” A billowing sigh passed her lips. “He can be a bit exacting in his opinions and unforgiving of transgressions against him and the family.”
“And this stopped you from visiting your sister?”
Pandora hadn’t come here, knowing her father wouldn’t admit her without an invitation. The trip was too long to find herself standing outside his doors. Dimitrios, as the would-be king, had been willing to bet he wouldn’t be denied. But what kind of man wouldn’t want to see his own daughter?
Rena urged him back into a walk and through another set of doors.
The interior hallway was topped by vaulted ceilings with colorful frescos depicting the gods and ancient battles.
“Our father is a good man who feels his emotions very deeply. He loves more than anyone I’ve ever known, which only enhances how much it hurts to face his disappointment. When Pandora vanished—”
Rena cut off and swallowed deeply.
“Father hired an untold number of people to find her,” she continued. “We didn’t know about her marriage, let alone that she had entertained Mihail’s advances. She disappeared, and we thought the worst had happened.
“Then, five months ago, word reached us of your arrival and the truth of your birth.” Rena stopped to face him. “To my father, Pandora cut us out, not the other way around. I might understand she had her reasons, but his hurt runs very deep.”
Dimitrios hadn’t considered what Pandora’s absence had done to her family, and now it all made sense. Especially given the resources his grandfather must have spent to locate her.
“Come,” she said. “He’s waiting.”
Rena brought him to the brink of a main hall, where she paused. “There’s just one more thing you should know before entering.”
“All right.”
“Father despises the Vidalatos family.”
With that, she pushed open the vaulted doors and strode into a hall where the arched windows let in ample light, highlighting more of the same colorful frescos and statues.
Nikolas strode forward to fill the now-empty space at Dimitrios’s side. “She might have led with that bit of information.”
“Indeed.”
Sahirah quietly slipped past the men and entered the hall, sweeping the room attentively. Finally, she nodded her approval.
The chamber didn’t need thrones to feel like a kingdom. Generations lined the walls like a living tableau—some stiff with suspicion, others already looking through him. Here, his blood was the only invitation he had. And maybe not even that.
Beneath the vaulted ceiling’s single skylight, a man sat in the center. Antonis Nicolea. His chair wasn’t a throne, but it may as well have been. Family flanked him on all sides, a living testament to his power.
Rena took up a position to Antonis’s immediate right and urged Dimitrios forward. “Father, this is your grandson, Dimitrios Gabrea Vidalatos.”
Nikolas stiffened and announced a correction. “His Majesty, the King of Perean, Dimitrios Vidalatos.”
Antonis sniffed. “I hope you’re not always this premature, Commander. He is not yet the king, now is he?”
Dimitrios raised a hand to halt the words about to spill from his friend’s mouth. “It’s all right, Nikolas.”
“What is it you want?” Antonis asked.
“Father—” Rena interrupted.
Antonis shot a halting hand up, his gaze trained on Dimitrios.
“No need to answer. I don’t care.” He stood, revealing he was of average height—maybe less—and still quite strong.
Age hadn’t yet robbed him of his steel spine.
His light-weight gold himation wrapped over a white chiton, both brushing the tops of his sandaled feet.
Antonis motioned to the room full of their family. “Consider this your official introduction. Great uncles, aunts, cousins—first, second, third, and so on… Generations of the greatest family this country has ever seen, and somehow, we were never enough for your mother.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“It’s late,” his grandfather said. “I’ll give you accommodations for the night, but I expect you to be gone by morning.”
Antonis strode across the hall, and anyone seated rose out of respect.
Dimitrios turned as his grandfather passed, words escaping him. This was all the old man had to say? He waited for someone, anyone, to interject. Not one of them, his so-called family, would meet his eyes.
Pandora’s advice came to rest on his shoulders like a warm hand. “When you do meet them, I only ask that you do so with an open mind.”
Dimitrios knew family loyalty when he saw it. Pandora herself had instilled as much in him and his siblings. But what could he say now to open their minds to him? To appeal to the one man whose opinion swayed them?
The answer hit him like a brick.
Family.
Of course.
“Marilena,” he shouted to Antonis’s back, his heart thrumming with renewed hope. The old man stopped but didn’t turn. “She is the most like our mother, practical and bossy—in the best way, of course—and will likely take over as the family matriarch when Mother passes on.
“Mathaios is the quiet one. He listens when you speak, truly listens, and when he hugs you, he wants you to feel it through to your aching soul.” Here, Dimitrios’s throat threatened to close, but he pushed forward.
“Mathaios is determined to follow in his father’s footsteps and ensure the Gabrea lands continue to thrive.
“Theodosis isn’t as serious as Mathaios—he’s actually quite funny and a bit foolhardy, but no less loyal to the family. He’s the first to join the children in their games and never lets a dinner fall quiet. And when my wife died—”
A boulder lodged in his throat that was damn near impossible to swallow. He’d gone too far, and because of this well of emotion, Dimitrios could fail to reach his grandfather where it mattered most: his family. Their family.
He couldn’t let his words fail him now.
Not now.
Antonis half-turned, and that slight twist of his body gave Dimitrios the strength to continue.
“When my wife died, Theo sat on the floor at the side of my bed until I could bring myself to sit up. He slept there, propped up on that cold, hard tile for what must have only been days, but to me, it felt like years. And yet, he refused to leave my side for any reason.
“Our baby sister Kalliope”—he paused, smiling, though this, too, hurt to say—“I knew the moment she was born that she was mine. Not in the way of a father but like that of two souls who have traveled lifetimes together. She is kind like our mother and intelligent like her father. She was my best friend, and I might miss her most of all.”
Dimitrios glanced at all the children standing with their parents. Dozens of them with wide, curious eyes. “There are easily ten and five children between the four of them. The grounds are full of laughter. It is a magical place, much like I imagine it is here.”
Antonis turned fully and scanned Dimitrios in full. “And you? I understand that you have no children.”
“No. My only son died at birth with his mother.”
He didn’t want to get into how he’d wasted years bouncing between beds with women he didn’t love. He’d wanted love and companionship, much the same as witnessed between his mother and Elias. Sophia had given him that, and he never regretted the years it took to find her.
Antonis came closer, one hand gripping his himation at the center of his chest. A slight pink tinge began filling his cheeks.
“The blood of your father has more hold on you than I first thought. Not only in your appearance but in how you would try to manipulate a man in his own home—on these lands we have held for more than seven generations.”
A band snapped in Dimitrios’s spine. “I’m sorry?”
“I make no secret of my weakness for family—it is our greatest strength, I assure you—and I admit you held my attention with this new information. I might even entertain your siblings if they were to one day visit our lands, but you—” Antonis shook his head. “You mock me.”
“I would never—”
“Did you not leave this family you care for so greatly?”
“Not by choice.”
“Likely swayed by the same greed as your forefathers.”
“I— No, Grandfather, I—”
“Lord Nicolea,” Antonis spat, then straightened to an even greater height. “For your mother’s sake alone, I will allow you one night under my roof. But, in the morning, you will leave—and you will not return. Not to this house. Not to these lands. And never again will you utter my family’s name.”
Antonis’s footsteps echoed as he exited, and not a whisper reached Dimitrios’s ears. He may as well be encased in marble, forever trapped in his humiliation and failure.
Rena appeared and touched his arm. “I am so sorry, Dimitrios. It appears his hurt runs deeper than I imagined.”
“Do not apologize.” He set a hand over hers. “It’s been a long day. I would like to retire.”
The touch of a smile reached her lips. “And then what will you do, nephew?”
“And then…” He stared after his retreating grandfather. His mother’s father. His family. The man who had just erased him. “What do you do when someone slams a door in your face?” he asked softly. “You wait. You listen. And when you’re ready, you knock again.”
To: His Majesty the King of Perean, Dimitrios Vidalatos
We didn’t discuss this upon your departure, but I felt I should keep you informed while you’re away.
Young Captain Triarius has escaped his private tower room, and his ship vanished from the harbor with all of his crew. It may not be my place to say so, but this has given me hope for Selene’s safe return.
All is well at the palace, otherwise. The halls are eerily quiet, in fact.
I wish I had news of the inquisitor’s health, but he remains asleep. Athena keeps to his side day and night. Oskar was right to suggest her. She lets no one near him who hasn’t been permitted by you alone.
Beyond that, I have little to report other than this: your puppies are now in the palace and have found their voices. The beasts howl at every moon. Caius says it’s your fault they’re here, and I’m inclined to agree.
Perhaps you wanted a pack of mischief-makers trailing you through the palace halls. If so, I will keep them well-fed in your absence.
Safe travels, my lord.
Milonia
P.S. Caius has named your beasts, by the way, but he refuses to tell me until you return. I can only hope he’s chosen names to your liking.
To Milonia Dardana, Head of House, Keeper of Beasts
Thank you.
I recall a particular young man begging to adopt these howlers of the moon. Maybe he should be responsible for their training. I don’t want them howling outside my door.
Though, if they must howl, let it be at Nikolas.
Give Caius my regards.
D.