Claiming the Royal Innocent (Kingdoms & Crowns)

by Jennifer Hayward

  Closing the gap between them, he slid his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze up to his. “The king is a good man. You have nothing to fear.”

  He, on the other hand, did, if she spilled what had just happened to Nikandros.

  * * *

  Alex’s heart thudded painfully beneath her ribs as her rather ominous-looking security detail nodded at her to precede him into the room. She stepped inside the palace library, its elegant chandeliers and wall sconces illuminating shelf upon shelf of precious volumes.

  With her voracious passion for literature, the shelves might have stolen her attention had it not been fixed on the man who stood at the far end of the room looking out the windows, hands buried in his pockets.

  She stood there, fingers biting into her tiny silk clutch as the king turned around and studied her, his expression intent. His eyes widened imperceptively, then that perfectly controlled countenance that made him vastly intimidating resumed its tenure.

  He turned to Aristos. “Efharisto.”

  Aristos nodded and headed for the door. She fought the crazy urge to beg him to stay—he who had threatened to put her in handcuffs and have her tossed out—but after a long glance at her that seemed to say keep your head up, you can do this, he left, the door clicking quietly shut behind him.

  The king nodded at the two leather chairs beside the window. “Please. Sit.”

  She obeyed, her weak knees only too happy to find a resting place. The king sat down opposite her. All at once, she was struck by how much they looked alike. The bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, dark ebony hair her brother wore short and cropped.

  “You are Melaina’s daughter.”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat as the response came out faint, raspy. “You knew her?”

  “I was only eight when she left, but yes, I remember her. My mother and she were very close.”

  Until my mother had an affair with your father and was thrown out of the palace.

  “Aristos has filled me in on your conversation. On your claim that my father is your father.”

  She lifted her chin. “It isn’t a claim. He is.”

  “Forgive me,” he said bluntly, “if I cannot accept that as fact. For over two decades your mother has kept you a secret, but now when my father is nearly in his grave, she’s seen fit to speak out. Why?”

  “She was afraid I would be taken from her. She didn’t want my life marked by her mistake. She thought I would be better off with her, rather than carry the stain of my illegitimacy. But your father’s heart attack hit her hard. I think she realized she had made a mistake in denying me my birthright.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “So you came here tonight to...”

  “Know my father. To know you and Stella. I—” Her gaze held his vivid blue one. “I don’t have any siblings. I don’t want anything else. I have a life in Stygos that I love.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “You can’t be so naive as to think everything will stay the same if it’s confirmed you are a Constantinides. You will be of royal blood. Third in line to the throne.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want any of that. I am not so naive as to think I would be welcomed into this family given the nature of my birth.”

  The king’s eyes flickered. “There is a...complexity to the situation. But if you are telling the truth, the blood that runs through your veins cannot be denied. It must be dealt with. Acknowledged. But that is dependent upon us having the facts. A DNA test will need to be performed.”

  She nodded. Had assumed as much would be required. Knew she couldn’t have expected more. So why did her insides sting so much?

  The king stood up. “I must get back to my guests. You’ll understand, given the need for security at the moment, if I have you escorted to a suite where you will remain for the evening. In the morning, we will address this.”

  “Of course.” She got to her feet.

  * * *

  The beautifully appointed suite she was shown to at the back of the palace overlooked the formal gardens. It was done in gold and a soft moss green, the shimmery, wispy fabrics of the sweeping brocade curtains and the romantic overlay of the big canopy bed like something straight out of one of the fairy tales she’d devoured as a child.

  When a maid showed up minutes later with a beautiful silk nightgown and inquired if she needed anything else, Alex fought back the hot tears that gathered in her eyes. She’d accomplished what she’d come here to do. She would see her father. But what she wanted in this moment was for her brother to have believed her.

  She assured the maid she had everything she needed. Unable to sleep, she wandered out onto the terrace. The band, whose lazy serenade had been drifting through the open windows of the ballroom, stopped playing. Then there was only the buzz of the cicadas as she contemplated row after row of perfectly tended, riotous blooms in the floodlit gardens.

  A quiet knock reached her from inside the suite. Frowning, wondering who it could be at this late hour, she padded inside and inched the door open. Standing in the dimly lit corridor stood the princess, still clad in her silver gown.

  “I had to come.”

  Alex stared at her sister. The princess’s startling blue eyes were counterbalanced by a wide mouth and the high cheekbones that were a signature of her mother’s aristocratic haughtiness. Arresting rather than classically beautiful, Stella stared back at her, all of her earlier poise stripped away, her carefully applied dramatic makeup standing out in stark contrast against the pallor of her skin.

  Her quick intake of breath was audible. “Thee mou, but you two look alike.”

  “Who?”

  “You and Nik.”

  Alex swallowed hard, a tightness gripping her chest. Her legs felt unsteady, consumed by the emotion of the day, as if one more blow would fell them. She forced herself to move past it, stepping back to allow her sister in.

  Stella slipped inside and shut the door. “The party just finished. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “I expect not.”

  They regarded each other in silence, wariness and shock filling the air between them. She searched her sister’s gaze for the mistrust her brother had displayed, finding only bemusement and curiosity in return.

  “The king told you I was here?”

  “Of course not.” The princess’s lips curved in a wry smile. “At least not willingly. Nik is too protective for that. I overheard him and Aristos talking.”

  Her lashes lowered. “He is suspicious of me.”

  “My brother has to be cautious. He has a million grenades being lobbed at him every day with King Idas’s descent into lunacy.”

  Alex bit her lip, chewing uncertainly on flesh she’d already made raw. “You don’t doubt my story?”

  “When you look more like Nik’s sister than I do?” The princess shook her head. “My father’s affair with your mother was common knowledge. I think we’ve all lived with the possibility that something like this might result from his indiscretions. Although for it to happen now is a bit...startling.”

  “I didn’t know. I only found out a few weeks ago.”

  “Nik told me.” The princess regarded her silently. “I hope you are not disappointed. My father is an imperfect man. A great king, but an imperfect man. Manage your expectations. Do not expect him to be warm and fuzzy.”

  “I thought my father was dead,” Alex said quietly. “I’m not sure what I’m expecting.”

  The princess’s golden-tipped lashes fanned her cheeks. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. To find this out now.”

  Alex exhaled an unsteady breath. “Confused. Bewildered. I’m angry my mother lied to me. I feel...betrayed. And yet I know she did it for the right reasons. She wanted to protect me. How can I be angry about that?”

  “Easily.” Stella waved a hand around them. “She denied you this. Your birthright.”

  “Is it?” A vision of her beautiful, serene village filled her head
. “I love my life in Stygos.”

  “You are a royal,” Stella countered. “A Constantinides. You could have had the world at your fingertips. Instead she took that away from you.”

  Had she? Or had her mother given her the safe, loved existence she’d always known?

  “Perhaps it’s about destiny,” Alex said. “Maybe mine was to live the life I have.”

  “Perhaps.” A glimmer filled the princess’s eyes. “The life of a royal has its challenges. I will be the first to admit that.”

  The reticence in her sister’s voice stirred her curiosity. “But the benefits outweigh the challenges?”

  “I’m not sure that’s an analysis I can make.” Stella’s lips firmed. “Do I think it’s my destiny to be where I am? Yes. Would I have chosen it if given the choice? That is the million-dollar question.”

  It certainly was. The cicadas buzzed their musical song as a silence stretched between them. Stella set a probing gaze on her. “I saw you dancing with Aristos.”

  Heat rose to stain her cheeks. She had been hoping that part of the evening would go unnoticed. Her inappropriate behavior had been uncharacteristic for her, foolish, particularly damning in light of her mother’s scandalous reputation.

  “It was a mistake,” she said quietly. “I was nervous. I’d had a couple of glasses of champagne...”

  “Aristos has that effect on women.” The princess’s mouth twisted. “A word of warning. He takes what he wants until you are too blind to see the danger. Before you know it, you’re hooked. Then he turns you loose.”

  She was clearly speaking from experience. Alex set her jaw resolutely. “It’s never happening again. After I talk to my father, I’m going home.”

  The princess regarded her silently. “I just met my sister,” she said softly. “I find I quite like the idea of having one. It would be a shame to lose her so quickly.”

  A throb consumed her chest. It grew with every breath, threatening to bubble over into an emotion too big to contain. Stella seemed to sense it, the thread that was close to breaking inside her. She stepped toward the door. “It’s late. We can talk in the morning. Better you get some sleep so you have a clear head as all of this unfolds.”

  And then she was gone, her exotic perfume wafting through the air. Alex’s mouth trembled as she shut the door. She stood, leaning against it, every muscle, fiber, of her body shredded, spent.

  As all of this unfolds. She was terribly afraid of the chain of events she had set into play tonight. A force she couldn’t retrieve. That in needing to know her father, by taking a risk that was so totally outside of her nature, she had not only stepped outside her safe little world in Stygos, but entered one that could consume her. A world her mother had done everything she could to protect her from.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TWO DAYS PASSED, and with them Alex’s premonition came true. As the blood test undertaken by the royal physician was rushed through the requisite channels, rumors of her presence spread through the palace in a flurry of gossip only a royal household could induce.

  By the time the results of the test were delivered to the palace, confirming that Alex was indeed King Gregorios’s daughter, the gossip had spilled to the press, who were demanding confirmation.

  Nikandros made it clear they could not wait long in issuing a statement from the press office confirming her as a Constantinides. The longer they waited, the more time the press had to speculate on the story, something the family didn’t need as the country fretted about a coming confrontation with its sister island.

  It was with this daunting scenario in place that Alex met her father for the first time. Accompanied by Stella to his suite in the west wing of the palace where the king was convalescing, they were told Queen Amara was out for the day. Alex had the distinct impression she was avoiding her as the scandal she was.

  Propped up against a pile of pillows, his leathery olive skin lined and craggy from almost four decades of rule, her father was pale beneath his swarthy complexion, his abundant shock of white hair looking out of place on a man who was clearly fighting what might be his last battle.

  Stella left. Frozen with indecision, Alex stood in the center of the room. The king opened his eyes, directing a brilliant beam of Constantinides blue at her. “Come. Sit.”

  She forced herself to move, perching on the chair drawn up beside the bed. Ruthless, arrogantly sure of his rule, beloved by his people, perhaps one of the last of an impenetrably powerful group of monarchs, her father was vastly intimidating.

  He scoured her face. “You look like your mother.”

  She nodded. Cleared her constricted throat. “We are very much alike. In looks and disposition.”

  “How is she?”

  “She is fine. We run a hotel, my family. It does well.”

  The king nodded. Contemplated her silently. “You are a Constantinides. As Nikandros will have told you, that gives you royal status. A place in this family.”

  “Yes.” She drew a deep breath. “That’s not why I’m here. I came to see you. To know my brother and sister. Not to cause upheaval.”

  His eyes darkened, a hint of emotion entering his gaze for the first time. “Upheaval there will be. Many mistakes have been made on all sides.” He lifted a hand. “I am not long for this world, as you can see, so it will not be up to me to right my wrongs. My wife will come to terms with this. It is you, Aleksandra, who must step up and claim your rightful place in this family.”

  Her hands, clasped together in her lap, tightened their grip, nails digging into her flesh. No outpouring of warmth from this man. No declarations of love for his own flesh and blood. No regret he hadn’t been there for her...

  Stella had been right. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. And yet she had.

  Knowing her father was alive had instilled a sense of longing in her. To have that illusion her mother had painted for her, that of a father who’d be excited at the thought of her. Perhaps not the one who would have taken her fishing, who would have taught her about boys, because that was not who this man was to her. Perhaps one with whom she could have forged a more mature bond. One who would have considered her a gift he’d never known he had.

  It knocked the wind out of her, the hope. A dull, dead throb pushed its way through her.

  “Did you love her?” she rasped, needing to know if her mother’s feelings had ever been returned. Needing to salvage something from this.

  The king fixed her with that steely blue gaze. “I cared about your mother, but no, I did not love her. A king’s priority is to the state. There is no room for anything else.”

  She could have begged to differ, because clearly her brother was very much in love with his wife, but the frozen feeling invading her, siphoning off the emotion that threatened to corrode her insides, made it impossible to speak. Buffered her from more pain.

  She had come for answers and she had gotten them. Perhaps not the ones she’d wanted, but answers nonetheless.

  * * *

  Alex spent the rest of the day attempting to wrap her head around the decision she had to make, the media circus going on outside the palace walls making her imminent decision a necessary one.

  The decision should have been easy, because she’d never wanted to be a princess. Her visit with her father had been desperately disappointing. Her loyalty lay with the promise she’d made to her mother and the hotel they ran. No one could force her to become a royal, but the fact that she was third in line to the throne wasn’t a minor detail she could ignore.

  What played a larger role in her decision-making were her brother and sister. Now that she’d met her siblings, it was hard to think of walking away from them. But what did she know of being a royal? A princess? It was perhaps the most important question of all, one only Stella could answer.

  She pulled her sister aside before dinner and picked her brain. Was life as a princess the endless round of royal engagements and charitable commitments that it looked from the outside, or was there
more to it? Would she have any freedom to chart her course, or would it all be decided for her?

  Stella answered honestly, which seemed to be her default setting. Yes, it was much as she’d described. But there was an opportunity to own the role, as she herself had proven.

  Armed with the full scope of Stella’s perspective, not that it cleared her confusion much, she and her sister joined her family for a predinner drink. Nik and Sofía were already enjoying a cocktail, minus two-month-old Theo, their infant son, who was with his nanny. Queen Amara walked into the salon just as the butler handed Alex a glass of wine. All eyes focused on the elder queen as she made her way toward Alex. Breath stalling in her throat, she dropped into a quick curtsy, entirely forgetting Stella’s instruction that it wasn’t necessary.

  The elder queen waved it off with a flick of her hand. “You are a member of this family now.”

  Am I? I haven’t made that decision yet. Her brain rifled through safe things to say. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”

  The queen inclined her head. “Amara will be fine.”

  The cocktail hour seemed stilted and forced compared with the previous night. When they sat down to dinner, Alex was thrilled to have a knife and fork to devote her attention to.

  “When will you be announced as princess?” Queen Amara directed her cool green gaze at Alex. “I would expect soon, given the throngs of media driving us all mad.”

  “I—” Alex put down her fork and knife. “I haven’t actually decided yet what I’m going to do.”

  Queen Amara lifted a brow. “What do you mean, decide? You are third in line to the throne.”

  “I have a life.” Alex lifted her chin. “My mother and I run a hotel together.”

  “You are a royal. There is no decision to be made. Duty says you take your place as an heir to this country.”

  Her mouth tightened. “My duty,” she said, “is to my mother and the business we have built together.”