The Rebel King. Melissa James
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at his walls until, deprived of a safe perch, he’d fall off. And, like Humpty Dumpty, if he fell no amount of king’s horses or men would put his life back the way it had been.
Surely she’d seen enough of him to know the only good he could do this place was to get back on that jet and return to his anonymous life in Sydney? If he hadn’t even been able to help his own sister through anorexia, how the hell could he run a country?
‘No, thanks,’ he said abruptly. ‘If I can’t take it home with me, there’s no point. So, what are the stakes? Whose lives “hang in the balance”, as you put it so eloquently?’
She’d bitten her lip as he spoke—not on the outside, no, that wouldn’t be classy enough for the perfect princess. But she’d worried the inside of her lip, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom he found the act touching…sweet, and somehow lonely.
When she spoke, it was with a kind of desperate resolve. ‘The lives and future of the people of Hellenia. Lasting peace in our nation.’
His brows lifted. ‘All that depends on me?’ he mocked, to cover the fact that he had the same sinking feeling in his gut he felt when he saw a fire gone beyond his ability to extinguish it.
‘Yes.’ Her eyes grew soft with pleading. ‘Grandfather seems almost immortal, but he’s eighty-two, and he’s had two heart attacks already. If he dies without naming a male heir, it will mean disaster for Hellenia. It’s obvious you believe you’re the wrong man for the job, Charlie.’ His body heated up again, hearing the blurry way she said his name. ‘But don’t judge Hellenia’s needs or your suitability until you know our history. Being one of the few absolute monarchies left in the world—’
Before she could finish the State of the Nation address, she appeared to think better of it; her voice dropped, and turned husky with emotion. ‘There’s been such suffering in our country since your grandfather left. It can end with us.’ Her words held entreaty and conviction—no longer the Princess dolly, but showing a bare hint of the passionate woman he’d seen before, and it fascinated him. ‘This is bigger than us, what we want.’
With control still in place, his jaw didn’t drop, but the shock lingered inside him, roiling his gut. ‘Are you saying you want this crazy marriage?’
‘Alliance,’ she corrected, her eyes calm. ‘Don’t panic, Charlie; it isn’t personal.’ She nibbled the inside of her lip again. A subtle gesture, and one most wouldn’t see, but Charlie could feel her fear, sense her worry, the loneliness of her position—and the stakes he still didn’t know became more urgent, reflected in the shadows inside her eyes. Eyes that, looking more closely, he noted were more like old Irish whisky than chestnut. ‘I know you care about others, or you wouldn’t have risked your life for that little girl, or the dozens of others we discovered you’ve rescued.’ Her gaze searched his in deep-hidden pleading and anxiety.
Not knowing what to say or do, he nodded, wishing he didn’t have to, but her complete honesty demanded his in return.
‘We need your help on a larger and more lasting scale than anyone you’ve saved in the past. There are five-hundred-year-old laws that need changing. Not merely that, but thousands of people lost family and homes and rights during the civil war. Some of my people have nothing. And, if you leave, they’ll have nothing to look forward to. Nothing.’
Though she’d said it three times, the word still held a starkness, a rawness too strong for her to be putting on an act.
‘I’m listening,’ he said quietly.
Her eyes lit from within, and his body tightened in spite of the gravity of the conversation. She was so pretty, so certain of her convictions. ‘I want to bring Hellenia into the modern world, but with the way the law currently stands I can’t do it alone. If you renounce your position, I lose my chance. According to laws in place since we took power in the 1700s, there must be an heir from the male Marandis line, or the crown reverts to a direct descendant of the royal family that was forcibly removed in the 1700s. The Orakis family was deposed by the people for their selfish and immoral ways. The head of the rebel force—a national hero, Angelis Marandis—was asked to become king. Marandis didn’t want to take the crown, but he did, for the sake of his people.’
Charlie nodded again, feeling an unwanted kinship with this long-dead relative. He’d heard most of this from the ambassador in Canberra, but it was obvious she had something to say, and interrupting her would break her train of thought.
The princess sighed. ‘The Orakis family never left. They’ve started civil wars, fomented unrest in troubled times—such as during World War Two, when our ally Greece was overrun. The troubles in Albania have given the Orakis supporters the opportunity to try to regain power in secret during the last twenty years.’ She stopped, nibbling her lip again. Looking almost adorably lost.
Trying with all his might not to respond to her plea, to touch her, he nodded. ‘Lady Eleni told us all that in Canberra.’
She smiled at his awkward attempt to comfort her. ‘Sorry if I appear to be going over old ground, but you need to understand why your decision is important to far more people than you and Lia. Markus Orakis is an autocrat in the old mould, believing in his right to rule. Orakis’s father spent twenty years trying to reclaim the throne.’ She blinked once, twice, but the suspicious sheen turned her eyes into beautiful mirror-pools of the suffering she saw in her people’s future. She looked up, those mysterious eyes shimmering with emotion, drenching his soul with her courage and her selfless duty.
‘It’s not that he’s a terrorist—he’s not. He just wouldn’t change anything. He’d keep Hellenia in the seventeenth century to keep the monarchy absolute and unchallenged. He’d put his family and followers in strategic positions to consolidate his power, and destroy anyone who threatened him.’ She sighed. ‘You’ve watched the international news, right? This isn’t melodrama. It’s what this kind of man does. They start with good intentions, doing good to the nation, then power goes to their heads and they justify any act of violence. He’s already that way with the following he has.’
Again, Charlie nodded. Anyone who watched the news could name the dictators who’d done exactly as Jazmine was predicting Orakis would do. ‘Go on.’
She touched his hand, and he could feel her trembling as she delivered her final words with the subtlety of a battle axe to his skull. ‘Ask yourself—if he could have returned, would your grandfather have done so? For his people, the people he loved? And, now he can’t, wouldn’t he want you and Lia to try?’
Ah, hell…
Click: a tiny sound in his brain, but deadly. It was the sound of manacles around his wrists. She’d found the key to his capitulation, and turned it without hesitation.
If he could have, Papou would have come back. He’d have urged Charlie to try to help if he could— and, despite his denial, he knew Lia’s answer. In all her life she’d never let anyone down, never said no if she was in a position to help. To her, the suffering in Hellenia would make this choice a sacred commission, the chance to put right Papou’s wrong in choosing love over duty.
An hour into their relationship, and she’d put his wrists in cuffs. For the sake of the Hellenican people: Papou’s people; her people. And for her sake, because it seemed the perfect princess did need a hero after all.
The perfect shell of the mysterious princess was a fragile illusion that, when shattered, couldn’t be reinstated. Those private, proud eyes had cried for him, and if he turned his back now he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
‘Enough, Your Highness.’ His tone froze even him, but he was losing the freedom he treasured. He might have to accept it, but he didn’t have to like it. ‘I’ll go back in there and behave. I gather that’s what you want?’
The appealing loveliness of her vanished as if it had never been. ‘There will be much more than that, Your Highness—but let’s take on one obstacle at a time.’
She