American King (New Camelot #3)

by Sierra Simone

  Everything terrible here can be undone. That wasn’t true in Carpathia.

  And if I’m honest, I crave the extra challenge. In the mountains, a person was either a friendly or a foe, and there was no other option. But here the foes are friendly, and the friends are scheming. No one fits into a black or white box, their words are layered, their intentions nuanced. It takes every neuron, every ounce of my perception and charisma and self-control to lead here. It keeps me strong. Alert.

  I try to gather my perception and self-control now, using them like plaster to cover over all the new cracks in my soul. My old friend will see them anyway, as he seems to see everything, but I’d rather not make it easy for him.

  “This will be short,” I say once Merlin actually walks through the door. “We’ve got the staff meeting in less than an hour.”

  Merlin nods, studying me, his dark eyes taking in my undoubtedly tired-looking face, my hair still wet from my shower, the suit jacket I haven’t bothered to put on yet.

  “Have a seat Merlin, please.”

  I stay standing as he sits. My muscles ache from my workout, my dick aches from being hard and angry all night, my chest aches from missing Embry and Greer. I take a moment to imagine her kneeling at my feet, my hand sliding through all that silky gold hair, her face turned in to rub against my thigh, and something inside me settles.

  I sit too.

  “Embry quit last night. The official resignation will come from his office today.”

  Merlin looks unsurprised, although he makes a noise that a less observant person might translate as shock. “How terrible. I suppose it’s to prepare to run against you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And his replacement?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache creeping behind my eyes. “Kay, of course. I’d like to ask Trieste to fill her spot as Chief of Staff.”

  “And your new press secretary if she accepts?”

  “I don’t think Uri wants it, but we’ll ask him first. When he says no, we’ll go outside staff. I want someone young and smart, and we’ve got enough white men on staff, so let’s keep that in mind as we look.”

  “Agreed,” Merlin says calmly.

  “Did you know this was going to happen?”

  “Of course not,” he answers. He’s a good liar, but not good enough. I feel the ripple of omission in his words, the studied guilelessness of his face. He knew something. He’s never withheld anything from me politically, but Embry straddles the line of political and personal. And when it comes to the personal, I think Merlin’s withheld many things from me over the years.

  I change subjects. “You told Embry he couldn’t be with me.”

  Merlin lifts his chin. “It was wartime, Maxen. Sacrifices had to be made.”

  “But that one?”

  The mundane whoosh of the air-conditioning kicks on. Outside the window, the District is already a swamp of hot metal and steaming asphalt. Despite the whirr of cold air blowing through the vents, I feel the August heat trying to beat down the walls of the building, and I suddenly feel very, very tired.

  “I told him the truth, nothing more,” Merlin says simply. “It was always up to him what he chose to do with that truth.”

  “You knew him. You knew if you presented it like I needed protecting that he would protect me.”

  “You did need protecting.”

  “Goddammit, from what, Merlin?” I take a breath, trying to sheathe the knife of my anger. “I didn’t ask for anyone to watch out for my career. I would have accepted the consequences of loving Embry, no matter what they were.”

  “You needed protecting from yourself,” Merlin replies, “from this very attitude. You were made for that war and you were made for this.” His finger comes down deliberately on the arm of his chair, indicating this room. This building. This city. “I’m sorry, but that couldn’t be wasted.”

  “Wasted,” I repeat. “Wasted on what? Love? A happy life? Have you ever been in love, Merlin? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

  To my surprise, Merlin’s eyes flash a hot, furious onyx. “I’ve been in love,” he says in a careful voice. “But I always knew my life was a lonely path. I did what needed to be done, so that I could do this work with you. For you.”

  “So was Embry revenge? You gave up love to work for me, and I had to be denied the same thing?”

  “You’re tired and you’re hurting, so I’ll excuse the accusation that I’ve orchestrated the intentional destruction of your happiness. Lest you forget, if you’d married Embry all those years ago, you wouldn’t have Greer.”

  That stops my anger cold in its tracks.

  “Embry said the same thing last night,” I say, looking down at my hands. “You’re both right.”

  I wouldn’t be complete without her, and neither would Embry. She was made to be my wife, and we were made to be a three.

  Merlin stands up. “If that’s all?”

  “It’s not,” I say, although I wish it were. I wish I’d woken up this morning with my wife on one side of me and my lover on another. I wish that the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done wrong, and everything my father did wrong too, would stop haunting me. “My son.”

  Merlin stiffens, and for the first time this morning, I realize I’ve truly caught him off guard.

  “Tell me you didn’t know,” I nearly plead. “Tell me that you wouldn’t keep this from me.”

  Merlin is struggling; I see it in his face. Feel it inside his mind, like a wind is blowing all his thoughts away like dry leaves on a tree. I also feel the moment he decides to tell me the truth.

  “I’m not proud of it,” he finally says, meeting my gaze. I see something much, much older than his forty-some years in his crow-black eyes. “I had thought…well, I’d hoped…not to repeat old sins. Not to make the mistakes of the past.”

  “Old sins? Are you talking about my father?”

  He blinks, as if coming back to himself. “Yes,” he answers, but he’s lying again, and I’m not sure why.

  “You don’t have to protect me from Penley’s mistakes, Merlin. I would have given anything not to make them myself.”

  “You couldn’t have risen very far with a child born out of wedlock, not in politics, and I had ambitions for you even then,” Merlin says. “Before we officially met, I had my eye on you. Morgan wanted to hide it from you, and Vivienne and I saw no reason why it would help anyone—you or Morgan—to stop her from hiding the truth.”

  “We didn’t know back then Morgan was my sister, Merlin. It would have been okay.”

  He doesn’t answer right away, and a cold suspicion tugs at me. “Merlin.”

  He takes a breath, those black eyes looking ancient. “I knew before then, Maxen. I’ve known for a long time.”

  “Jesus Christ.” This new betrayal is like a spear through my side. “How did you know?”

  “My first job out of university was at a law firm in Manhattan responsible for carrying out certain provisions in Penley Luther’s will. They involved conferring a settlement on Imogen Leffey’s youngest child. When I found you, it wasn’t hard to see that you were his child as well. You have Imogen’s coloring, but your features, your bearing…It’s all Penley.”

  “When you found me,” I echo his earlier words, staring at him.

  “The fair. Do you remember? You’d just pulled a sword from a stone.”

  I’ve thought of that moment almost every day since it happened, of the tall stranger who knew my name, but time had blurred away all the details, scrubbed away the reality of the moment. It had become something like a dream. “It was you.”

  “I found you, and then I found Althea Colchester and left her the settlement funds. Didn’t you ever wonder how she was able to pay for your college tuition?”

  “She said there’d been a scholarship…” I trail off. “But it was you. And Penley.”

  “Yes.”

  “But if you knew all those years ago, why didn’t you tell me? Why di
dn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you tell me never to sleep with anyone who had the last name Leffey?”

  “I wrongfully thought you were too young to hear such a dire warning. To know the truth about your real parents. And so I was too late. As always.” And he smiles ruefully, as if at some private joke with himself.

  “How did you learn about it?”

  He looks away from me, to the window, his eyes going distant. “Nimue. I offered to help her family in any way I could, and together Vivienne and I made sure Lyr’s guardianship was transferred discreetly and legally. In fact, I was even the one to suggest the name. It’s Welsh,” he explains, his eyes still fixed on some far off point in the past. “From the sea. I thought if I was going to make the mistakes of the past, I could at least make them thoroughly.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  His eyes snap back to mine and clear. “You will. But not yet.”

  “No more secrets, Merlin. You had no right to keep Lyr from me.” Pain tightens my chest again and I pause. “No more secrets.”

  “No more,” Merlin agrees, “save one.”

  “No.”

  “I will tell you, I promise you that. But not now.”

  I throw my hands up in the air. “When? Next week? Next month?”

  “In two and a half years.”

  For a moment, I think he’s joking and I laugh. But he doesn’t join me in laughing, and I see that his face is completely serious.

  “Two and a half years,” I say incredulously. “You think I owe you that? After what you’ve done to Embry and me? After hiding my son from me?”

  “I don’t think you owe me anything. I recognize that I’ve done cruel or manipulative things to you and the people in your life, but it’s always been in your best interest—in the best interest of everyone. Which is why you will have to wait. Not because you owe me, but because you don’t have a choice.”

  I stand up. “Tell me how I’m supposed to trust you. Tell me how I’m supposed to go into that staff meeting and turn to you for advice.”

  Merlin gives me a small, sad smile. “You will trust me because it’s in your nature to trust. You will turn to me for advice because I’ve never steered you into a decision that would harm this country or its citizens. The real tragedy of your life, Maxen, is that you will never stop having faith in the people around you, even when they hurt you over and over again.”

  He takes his leave, and I take a breath.

  You will never stop having faith in the people around you, even when they hurt you over and over again.

  It feels like a curse.

  I grab my jacket and follow him downstairs.

  Four

  Ash

  now

  The staff meeting is hard. I knew it would be, and yet sitting in that chair and looking at the faces of my friends and allies—Kay, Trieste, Uri, with Belvedere just outside the door, and Luc and Lamar outside the windows standing guard, and Merlin looking on—it all serves to underscore exactly who isn’t here.

  My prince.

  It was always something I’d shared with him, this pipe dream of running for President. Most candidates pick a VP to satisfy the base or win over the moderates or some combination of the two. But not me. From the very beginning, I made it clear that I wasn’t taking a single step forward without Embry by my side. I was with Jenny then, so there wasn’t…there couldn’t be what we used to have. But I needed him all the same. He was my brother in arms, my former lover, my best friend. He’d grown up in politics, his mother was a powerful governor, he understood the strategies of schmoozing and courting better than I did.

  And I needed him. I just—I just needed him.

  And now he’s not here.

  Kay accepts the position I offer, so does Trieste. Uri declines, more comfortable with screens and paper than being grilled by reporters, and we talk over our approach for finding a new press secretary. Kay and Trieste immediately plan to interface with Embry’s office to see if they can get a copy of his statement before it’s released, we hammer out a media strategy for his departure, and we agree to keep the gala speech free of any mention of it, although Embry’s resignation will dominate the news cycle. Probably for the next month. We won’t try to sidestep the narratives and we also won’t assign blame. I can see this approach chafes at Trieste, who’d rather try to control the story from the beginning, but it’s not how I run my administration. Embry and the press can say whatever they want—we’ll stick to honesty, restraint, and dignity.

  “We need to think about the next election,” Kay says crisply, making a few notes on her tablet. The sunlight pouring through the windows from the Rose Garden strikes deep bronze notes in her black skin and outlines every natural curl corkscrewing from her head. Her suit is tailored to perfection, every sharp line echoing her high cheekbones and delicate jaw. For a moment, I think of the girl I grew up with, the one with the blue yarn braids and the baggy jeans. The older sister who defended me from every bully, every raised eyebrow at the adopted white boy, every busybody mother at Mass who wanted to make sure Althea was teaching me my rosaries and chaplets. And I’m overcome with profound gratitude and debt. For her undeserved affection and loyalty. For her drive and intellect and untiring work.

  I stand up and give her a hug, interrupting the flow of the meeting. I don’t care. Everything is falling apart, but Kay has been here for me since I was four years old and I need to hug her. Everyone stops what they’re doing to stare.

  “Thank you,” I tell Kay. “You’re my favorite sister.”

  “I’m your only sister,” she says dryly as I pull away from the hug.

  I’m about to tell her that’s not technically the truth when there’s a knock at the door. I straighten up as Belvedere pokes his head inside, looking abashed.

  “I’m sorry sir, but it’s the Vice President on the line. He’s asked to speak with you.”

  Something twists inside my chest. Excitement or pain, I don’t know.

  “To formally tender his resignation, I imagine,” Merlin says, standing up. “Let’s give the President the room.”

  My staff bustles up to leave, Kay giving my hand a quick squeeze and Merlin sending me an inscrutable look. Then I’m alone in the Oval Office with a ringing phone.

  My hand shakes as I pick it up.

  “Colchester.”

  “You know it’s me,” comes Embry’s irritated voice. I soak up every sharp consonant, every drawling vowel. It’s only been twelve hours and yet I miss him with the whining pangs of a starving dog.

  Embry goes on. “Answer the phone like an actual human.”

  “Come over here and I’ll talk to you like a man.”

  Embry laughs and as always, the sound unlocks every door to my heart. He and Greer, they laugh so much, and the sound of it is like joy itself. “Ash, we both know what would happen if I was in that office alone with you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “We’d fight. You’d ask me not to leave. I’d tell you I had no choice. We’d find new ways to hurt each other. It wouldn’t be pretty.”

  “But finding new ways to hurt you is always so pretty to me, little prince.”

  A short inhale is my only answer. I picture those ice blue eyes going hooded with desire, those firm lips pouting ever so slightly with need.

  I sit down behind my desk, running a palm along the smooth wood as if it were my lover’s back. “Let me tell you exactly what would happen if you were here. You’d walk in here and try to stay standing, because you would think it put us on equal footing. Because you wouldn’t allow yourself to relax around me. And I’d let you stand, because it wouldn’t matter.”

  “It wouldn’t?”

  “Do I have any less power when I’m sitting than when I’m standing? Am I a different man?”

  “It wouldn’t be about you,” Embry says impatiently. “The standing would be for me. To demonstrate that we are different now, that I am different.”

  “But you’re no
t, my Patroclus. How many times have you been ready to fight me, ready to struggle and bruise to prove to yourself that you don’t want me, only to end up begging for my cock?”

  “And you think that’s what would happen this time?”

  “I know it’s what would happen,” I say in a low voice. My cock lengthens down the leg of my pants as I imagine it. “I’d let you stand long enough to prove my point, that I still own you, sitting or standing, and then I’d make you get on your knees and apologize to me for breaking my heart.”

  Embry’s voice is silky when he responds. “Apologize how?”

  “By taking my cum down your throat.”

  “It wouldn’t be enough. Not to earn your forgiveness.”

  “You’re right,” I say, rubbing a palm over my erection. I’m hard enough that I can feel the heavy flare of my crown through the fabric. “After I fucked your mouth, I’d haul you up by the back of your neck and bend you over the desk. I’d take off my belt and stripe your ass red for every time you’ve left me.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Embry says, and the breathlessness in his voice gives him away. He’d like to see me try as much as I’d like to see me try—which is quite a lot.

  “I’d have to hold you down. Maybe you’d be able to twist away, but I’d catch you and then we’d both fall to the floor in a tangled heap. And then I’d fuck you until you sprayed the carpet with your cum. Until you were spent and loose for me.”

  “And then?” Embry asks with a hitch in his voice.

  “I’d use you until you begged me to stop.”

  He sounds like he can’t breathe. “You know I’d never ask you to stop.”

  “Then I’d fuck your hole until I was done. I’d make you walk out of the Oval Office with a torn suit and my semen still hot inside you.”

  “Holy shit, Ash,” he groans.

  “Are you jerking off right now?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “Almost,” I say, unbuckling my belt. My cock is hot when I pull it out, hot and stone fucking hard. I angle my chair away from the windows behind me, even though I know the Secret Service agents outside the windows won’t break protocol and look in without a reason. “Now it’s your turn.”