Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The man who returned from the Nicolean lands wore the same face, but the shape of Dimitrios’s spine had changed. Where uncertainty once slowed his steps, purpose now braced his every breath.
The weeks following the assassinations had left him on his back foot, unable to see a path forward, thoughts in a constant spiral.
He wasn’t the king. Perean wasn’t his to rule.
This palace and these rooms didn’t belong to him.
Who was he to rummage through anything? He wouldn’t even have a key to anything if not for Selene.
Antonis—his words, his history, his beliefs—changed everything.
Dimitrios had left the family estate forged by a new fire.
He was a goddamned Vidaltatos, for good or ill. The blood in his veins gave him the right to every brick, stone, block of wood, and speck of dust. He didn’t need a ceremony to be the king Perean needed, and sitting back wouldn’t help him win the majority vote of the provinces. The votes would come.
That was, of course, if he needed them.
Stavros Salidis could wake any day now.
In either case, Perean needed help this very hour.
After months of the palace bustling with courtiers and laughter and conversation, not to mention the side glances and whispers Dimitrios had endured, it was a relief to walk through the corridors to nothing but the clip of his own footsteps.
His search began in the council chambers in the early morning. The records within were months behind and reflected a very different state of Perean than Dimitrios had been led to believe in recent weeks.
Orestis Vidalatos’s offices, too, were more of the same. The one document he found interesting was a contract with Eslodel. It appeared a portion of Perean’s naval military stood guard around their naval borders, thwarting the nearby pirate presence.
Another document—a letter—from the woman in Yiria named Misae White Spirit demanded the restoration of her trade deal with Eslodel. If there’d been a reply, Dimitrios couldn’t tell, but he sensed this might be an issue worth diving into further.
Later, though. He had more pressing matters.
Like where Perean’s wealth had gone and why Titos Demakis was sniffing at his border. If he lost control of Perean, he’d have no standing to do anything for anyone else.
By the time he left Orestis’s office, the palace marble glowed with the golden hour’s orange light. He’d lost the entire day already, and he still had more to go through.
Each councilman had a private office inside the palace. Tassatos, the Supreme Commander, kept detailed records of Soterran military locations—all outside Perean borders. He’d also noted places of bandit activity interrupting important trade routes.
Nektarios had been concerned about this during that overheard conversation, but Leonidas had brushed it off.
Leonidas had brushed off a lot of concerns, actually.
Dimitrios skipped every room after the Supreme Commanders and strode directly into the chambers belonging to Leonidas Primakos.
The High Chancellor kept a neat and tidy study outside his bed chambers.
Thick curtains were drawn over the windows, though pulling them back did Dimitrios no good. Night had finally fallen.
He was reaching for a candle when candlelight strode into the room all on its own.
Milonia’s hair cascaded in loose waves, framing her face in a way that accentuated her deep, expressive eyes.
Her skin glowed in the candlelight, but it was her deep crimson chiton that made Dimitrios struggle to swallow.
The sleeveless, flowing garment was cinched at her slim waist by a gold-braided belt, and the edges were embroidered with gold thread.
A thin himation in a contrasting deep black was wrapped over her shoulders.
Her dark gaze skipped about the study. “I take it you’re just starting in on this room.”
“I’m sorry?” He straightened from where he’d been bent over a table, an unlit candle in hand.
A smile touched her lips as she sauntered toward him.
“You’ve been upending rooms all day, Your Majesty.
Is there something I can help you find?” She set her light to his cold wick until a second flame sparked.
Her dark, golden eyes flicked up to his.
“It may alleviate some of the work these poor girls have been cleaning in your wake.”
Dimitrios sucked in a breath and, with it, the gentle notes of sandalwood and lilacs. “I’m just…looking.”
He felt no better than a child caught snooping, regardless of the bravado with which he started this day.
Milonia turned with her candle, making a slow sweep of the space. “This was the High Chancellor’s study.”
“Yes.”
“He was very particular about who was allowed in this room.” She met his eyes. “I suspect he had his reasons.”
“Indeed.”
“You should find out what those are.”
“I agree.”
“And”—she tore her gaze from his—“if it pleases His Majesty, I’ll start a fire. There’s a chill in the air tonight.”
Dimitrios could only nod, and she knelt before the fireplace. In another life, he might have been the sort of man who went up behind her and ran his fingertips along the back of her long neck. She might shiver under his touch, and he might like that.
“This palace is full of secrets.” She sat back on her heels and glanced over her shoulder. “Did you know there are secret passages underneath?”
Selene had lived in the palace her entire life. Had access to every room. Knew the best places to stand and listen without notice. And yet she hadn’t known about the passages until her escape nearly a year ago.
“I used them the night I announced myself to the Council.” Dimitrios scanned a series of book spines on a dusty shelf. “How did you learn of them?”
Milonia held fire to a collection of logs and kindling. “Praevia is full of mysteries. For example, the colosseum has several hidden passages, including an underground tunnel that leads all the way to the sea.”
He arched a brow. “Secret tunnels, hidden passages…” Selene had walked him by the colosseum and said nothing about tunnels. “That’s…rare knowledge.”
“Rare, but not secret. You only have to know where to look.” She peered over her shoulder and winked. “I’d suggest starting in your own library.”
He made a mental note to do just that.
The fire ignited, and Milonia rose.
He knew what came next. She would ask if he needed anything else.
He would say no. She would leave with instructions to find her with anything further.
He would spend the next few hours thinking of her smooth length of neck and how she had an unnatural confidence to hold his stare and say words she shouldn’t.
Except, she did none of that, and upended his expectations entirely.
Milonia strode up to his side and swiped a finger through the shelf dust while assaulting him once again with her gentle scent. “How was your latest visit with your grandfather?”
“Frustrating.”
“How so?”
Dimitrios retreated to the desk crafted from rich, dark wood. “He doesn’t trust me.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“Nor is he willing to try.”
A gentle breath. A small step forward. “You should try writing him letters.”
His heartbeat stuttered. “Letters?”
“Some people—I won’t say who—tend to open up in letters. Maybe that’s a trait passed down by blood.”
Dimitrios fought the pull on the corners of his lips. “Maybe some people—I won’t say who—naturally bring it out in others.”
She smiled. “We could have Caius write him on your behalf. He’s quite fond of you.”
“In that case, the old man won’t stand a chance. It would take a series of miracles to deny your son anything.” Dimitrios glanced down. “I’m quite fond of him as well.”
The crackle of the fire filled the yawning absence of response.
Finally, Milonia stepped forward. “I’ve seen a desk like that before.”
Dimitrios gripped onto the subject change with all his might and focused on the desk at his fingertips. Like most, it held an inkpot, quill, and a stack of parchment. The spacious drawers blended seamlessly into the design, adorned with brass handles.
Milonia came around to where he stood. “May I?”
Dimitrios stepped aside with a nod and watched her delicate fingers slide familiarly beneath the central part of the desk.
Milonia’s eyes lit with triumph. “I thought so.”
“What?”
A click sounded, and an entire compartment fell from beneath the desktop. Milonia pulled the shallow drawer forward to reveal its treasures. Loose coins, tightly bound scrolls, and stacks of folded parchments with broken green seals. The symbol was all too familiar.
A crowned lion.
Titos.
Seal after seal after seal.
Another. And another.
His heartbeat thrummed. He opened each missive, devouring every betrayal. Responses from the Supreme Commander. Personal notes. Copies of every missive he sent. Orders and promises.
Details regarding border defense.
Lists of names—Dimitrios, his siblings. Selene, Nikolas, Oskar…
His allies.
“My god,” he whispered. He stopped short of crumpling every paper in his fist. “He gave Titos the very blade he needed to hold at Perean’s throat.”
Milonia silently held out her hand for everything in his.
He passed them over without comment, then followed her to the couch before the fire. For once, he was too distracted to notice how near she was or how good she smelled. All he could do was wonder at the level of Leonidas’s deceit.
They read in silence. Together. Like conspirators. Passing pages back and forth, occasionally sharing a look.
“He would have handed all of Perean over to Titos,” Dimitrios said after quite a bit of time had passed. “It may even be too late to stop him.”
Stavros’s suspicions had been right. Titos had promised Leonidas the stewardship of Perean.
Milonia’s eyes whipped back and forth over another letter. “He’s been turning the provinces against you for months, ensuring you will never have their support.” She lowered the letter to her lap and stared into the fire. “The bandits were Titos’s men all along.”