Claiming The Royal Innocent. Дженнифер Хейворд
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come here and do what she’d done. He could only imagine how terrified she felt.
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