Chapter 40 #2
Milonia tucked her face into the crook of his neck and combed lazily through his hair. “Every day, more and more people see who you truly are. To the people who love you, you’re already their king.”
“The people don’t get a vote.”
As of now, he still wouldn’t win a provincial vote.
Slow, gentle kisses fell across his neck, and he closed his eyes. Her arm came around his waist, and her hand splayed across his back.
“Let’s see if I can make that smile more permanent,” she whispered across his skin. Her hand dipped low and found his growing erection.
Dimitrios’s breath caught, and all the blood rushed from his head straight to the center of his body. “Now…hold on…fuck.”
Milonia pushed him onto his back and straddled his lap. Her slick heat hovered—nearly lined up, nearly his.
Outside the room, a door slammed.
“Caius,” she whispered, then groaned. She rolled off the side of the bed, where she wrapped herself in a blue silk robe. “Stay here. I’ll distract him elsewhere so you can sneak away.”
Dimitrios reached for her hand. “What if you didn’t?”
A line burrowed between her eyes. “Didn’t what?”
“I don’t want to hide. Not from Caius. Not from anyone.”
Frowning, Milonia pulled her hand away. She rubbed her wrist absently, as if trying to erase the feel of his touch. “I’ll go distract him.”
Without another word, she exited her bedroom, the door shutting with a soft snick.
Dimitrios fell back and sighed. He’d tried talking to her about this last night, but it was as if she sensed the serious conversation coming and distracted him with her naked body.
Was he the only one who’d fallen? Was that why?
Maybe she was just using him to fill a need, and he was overreacting because he was finally coming out of mourning.
The problem was, he’d felt this way before, knew it for what it was, and he’d already tried fighting it. Nothing had worked.
Once dressed, he slipped out of her room. The parlor was sunlit and still. Worn velvet on the chairs. A lavender scarf draped over a chaise. A cold teacup on the sill. Books were stacked like battlements beside the window.
Dimitrios paused at the study doorway and stared inside, surprised he hadn’t noticed before. Milonia’s desk was the same style as Leonidas’s, and she’d known about the hidden drawer… Was this why?
He strode toward it, guided by the same compulsion that had him searching every desk he came across. More often than not, the compartments were empty, but he enjoyed the game of finding the unlocking mechanism, which was different on every desk.
This one took him all of two minutes to figure out. The drawer popped out, and he pulled it toward him—
“Caius is walking the pups,” Milonia said from the doorway.
She gripped the doorframe and stared at what was clearly an empty drawer, her expression grim.
Dimitrios motioned toward the desk. “You never said you had one in your rooms.”
“I said they were all over the palace, and they are.” She straightened and held her hands together in front, her stance formal. “Is there something I can help you find?”
“I wasn’t—” He shifted beneath her chilly stare. “Are you all right? I’m sorry if… I didn’t mean any harm.”
“It’s your right to go through whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”
Milonia turned her body in an invitation for him to exit. He paused in front of her, and she turned her cheek to his kiss.
“I’ll see you later, then,” he said.
Milonia hesitated—just for a moment—then turned toward the window. “You should go before Caius returns.”
That was when he felt it. The snap he could never have anticipated.
Rationally, he knew she was there, breathing, alive. All he had to do was pull her close, confess to his childish curiosity, and apologize.
But his body was stone, and his mind was in a place where he could already feel her answer. Her dead weight. He’d held too many bodies that didn’t answer back. He wasn’t prepared to watch her become one of them.
Without a word, he turned and left.
He tried to erase and rationalize the moment as he cleaned up and dressed for the day. She’d never acted like that before. But he had never invaded her privacy before, either.
Dimitrios knew better, however, than to hunt her down and force her to talk.
That never went over well with the women in his life.
So, he chose to send her a note instead.
He’d write it as if he were away on a long journey, just as they’d done in the beginning.
Surely, that would soften her to hear his apology later.
He was heading for his study when a knock sounded. A member of his protective guard entered and bowed. “Lady Rena Nicolea and Supreme Commander Pateras, My Lord. They claim to have urgent news.”
“Let them in.”
Rena entered first, her hair twisted into a low bun, though several strands had broken free in defiance.
She wore a himation the color of soot over a wine-red chiton, belted high under the bust with a silver-threaded girdle.
Every step she made was deliberate, and for the first time since meeting her, he saw Antonis in her overall demeanor.
Dimitrios kissed her cheeks in greeting. “Is everything all right?”
Rena glanced back at Pateras, who was outfitted in full military garb. A bronze cuirass over his pale chiton, and a navy blue chlamys fastened with a Perean brooch. His soft leather boots rose above the ankle, laced with silver.
“My father has written,” Rena said, then handed him a missive with the Nicolea seal. “He’s asked me to return home at once.”
Dimitrios startled. “Why?”
“You’ll understand in a moment,” she said.
Again, she shared a look with the Supreme Commander, and this time, Dimitrios wondered why they were together.
“You’re awfully quiet, Pateras,” Dimitrios noted as he cracked the Nicolean seal.
“I prefer to hold my words for now.”
Dimitrios unfolded the parchment. As usual, Antonis kept to the point. No greeting. No signature.
A letter arrived from Princess Alexandra. It was sent to every province lord in Perean.
I enclose a copy.
Make no mistake—this is not a plea. It is a challenge.
Prove them wrong.
Dimitrios met Rena’s calm stare before switching pages, eager to read how his cousin meant to ruin him after months of silence.
To: Noble Lords and Stewards of the Perean Provinces
From: Alexandra Vidalatos, firstborn daughter of the Crown, Rightful Sovereign of Perean
My Lords,
I write to you as the last living daughter of King Orestis Vidalatos, the final blood of our sovereign line. You have endured confusion, violence, and silence long enough. It is time the truth is spoken aloud.
Dimitrios Vidalatos has no rightful claim to Perean’s throne. His so-called legitimacy rests on whispers, not law. His decisions have drained our coffers, provoked war with our allies, and shattered the trade routes we once relied on to feed and protect our people.
The former King’s Council is dead. The army thinned. The treasury empty. The streets unsafe.
I offer peace where he promises only war. I offer stability, backed not by ambition but by strategy and the strength of Soterra, whose king—my mother’s elder brother—has pledged his support.
There is still time to avoid bloodshed. I ask only for your allegiance to the true crown and Perean’s future.
May the gods favor those who act before it is too late.
Alexandra
Dimitrios sat on his outdoor patio, Alexandra’s words twisting like a dagger in his back. He read them again. And again. Until the ink blurred, and he finally flung the pages aside.
“I don’t understand. Alexandra has been hidden away for months. Why now?”
Pateras shook his head, armor creaking. “This is Titos Demakis. I would stake my life on it.”
Rena’s spine lengthened at the commander’s side. “He uses the princess as a shield, then?”
“He uses her as a key to unlock our doors.” Pateras met Dimitrios’s eyes. “His armies approach our borders at their weakest points—they’ll be here in a matter of days. More than we can fend off if our people turn against you.”
“But our armies are ready—” Dimitrios began.
“Our armies haven’t had a king for the better part of a year,” Pateras interjected. “With little left in the coffers, have you wondered how we’re paying them? Feeding them? I’ve done what I can with what little there is.
“Demakis marching on us now”—the older man shook his head—“it’s no coincidence.”
Dimitrios rose and stepped up to the balcony. His city still sparkled—the bay glittering, temple smoke rising, harbors alive. But for how long?
“Titos intends to overthrow the capital,” Dimitrios said. “Using Alexandra as a figurehead to keep the people quiet. That was his plan all along.”
Everything Leonidas had done on Titos’s order, down to the foolish attack on Yirian soil…
all to weaken Dimitrios’s stance. It hadn’t mattered if they won or lost that battle against the Yirians, only that they’d been foolish enough to try.
Their remaining allies would halt trade, and they might as well open the mines to every pirate and smuggler in the region to take their fill of the ioprese steel.
“What can we do?” Dimitrios asked. He turned to face his two closest allies. “Tell me there’s a chance.”
Rena shook her head. “I’m afraid I can be of no help here, nephew. My father wants me home. He must intend for us all to shelter in place until the dust settles.”
Pateras rose. “I ride at once to the border. We need steel and presence both. I’ll report back as often as I can. Until then, stay put. Be ready.”
Dimitrios remained on the balcony long after they had gone. He’d wanted peace. A chance to rebuild, not to bleed. But Titos Demakis had made his move. And now?
Now he would answer it.