“And we are getting married in two weeks’ time. Sleep now if you can. Try to catch up. Tomorrow, they will be here.”
“In the house? I don’t want Lily on camera.”
“You understand that is impractical. Lily will be on camera from now on to the rest of her life. She is going to be a public figure. An object of interest and curiosity. It is far better that we have Lily on camera when we decide. Far better that we have official photographers taking her photos. It will be better, trust me.”
“I... But she’s very little. And this is all very new.”
“Tomorrow I will only need you. But you will have to look the part. And whatever your personal feelings on me or the subject...you will have to look as if you can bear my touch.”
The air went thick between us, and she captured her lower lip between her teeth. Worrying it.
I reached out and then dropped my hand quickly. I had been about to touch her. But I refused.
I would not allow her that kind of power. I would not allow her that kind of control.
Everything had been put in motion. By my hand.
I had the power here, not her.
We would both do well to remember it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marissa
I SLEPT TERRIBLY. I kept waiting for Lily to crawl into my bed, because I was certain that the new environment would be uncomfortable for her, but she didn’t come.
And when I woke up early in the morning, unable to stand staying in bed any longer, I tiptoed down the hall to her room and found her sleeping like the little princess she was in the middle of a giant king-size bed. She barely made a dent in the feather mattress; her dark hair spilled over the pillow.
She felt happy here. She felt safe. I was the one with the issue.
But then, I was the one who had a history with Hercules.
I sighed heavily and padded down the stairs, searching for coffee. I kept waiting to see Hercules. But he didn’t materialize.
And when the sun finally came up, I could see the breathtaking view out the window. The craggy, glorious mountains all around limned with gold. And below... The sea. The glorious Mediterranean burning like a jewel in the early morning.
This place was beautiful.
It would be my home.
I could see the ocean.
The wave of relief I felt at that realization surprised me.
Lily and I were near enough to the water in Boston. We didn’t have a view, but we could easily walk down to the harbor.
Even so, sometimes I ached for the beautiful simplicity of the shorelines in Medland. The bristling seagrass that grew from the soft sand hills and the rich blue water.
This was different. But it was so close. The sea as if it was illuminated from its center.
My heart felt inexplicably tied to the ocean.
And it made sense suddenly that it was by the ocean I had first seen Hercules.
I stood out on the balcony, looking down over the water for an untold amount of time, until I heard the sound of footsteps behind me.
It still wasn’t Hercules.
It was a woman, immaculately dressed, her hair and makeup flawless.
“You must be Marissa?” She spoke with faintly accented English, her voice gloriously cultured. “I am Isabella. I’m here to help you get dressed for the press conference.”
It turned out that Isabella’s statement was an understatement. She was not there simply to help me get dressed, but to acquaint me with an entirely new wardrobe that she had selected sometime between the moment I had been whisked away from Medland and when we landed in Pelion.
We set aside multiple items to be altered and chose one formfitting red dress that fell past my knees and was cut classically, that needed only a bare minimum of sewing sorcery. Isabella accomplished it in moments. Then she did some expert styling on my hair, promising that I needed a bit of salon time and would get it later on.
She also did makeup, miraculous things with it—things that I hadn’t known were possible.
With a bit of shading, she made my face look narrower, more sharply defined, and with some glue and fake lashes made my eyes look stunningly wide.
“Camera ready,” she said.
I turned and looked in the mirror, feeling shocked by what I saw. “That doesn’t look like me.”
“It doesn’t have to. It has to look like a princess.”
I recognized the truth of that. It wasn’t meant to be insulting, not in any way. It was simply the truth.
Hercules needed to present a woman to the country—to the world—who was believable. Who could be likable enough to smooth over the narrative that was going to have to be spun about the existence of Lily.
Come to think of it, I didn’t even know what that narrative was going to be. And I still hadn’t seen Hercules. So we had not had a chance to talk about it.
As soon as Isabella was finished, she whisked me out of my bedroom and down the stairs. And then suddenly she was gone, and Hercules was there.
“We will be meeting the members of the press out in the courtyard.”
His eyes flicked over me, and I saw heat there that made my skin feel like it was prickling.
“She’s done a good job.”
“Yes,” I responded.
“We will tell them you did not know my identity, and I didn’t know about Lily, and it was only recently when headlines of my engagement hit the news that you realized who I was. You came to me, not to destroy my wedding, but to make sure that I knew about my daughter. And that was when we decided it would be best if we were together.”
It was so close to the truth, and it made my heart twist. I should be happy with that. That it wasn’t an outright lie. But...
“It’s not exactly a story that will sweep people away.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s not about what I want,” I said. “But...people want to know. They’ll want to dig in deep. And I... It all sounds so practical, and there’s nothing beautiful to weave from it. People want to weave a story.”
“We are marrying for practical reasons.”
“Yes,” I said softly. “But don’t you think it would be more impacting if you said that when I came to find you, you realized that...I was what you had been missing all along?”
The words tasted so strange on my lips, almost like honey, and a surge of longing welled up inside of me, and worse, hope.
Hope was a beast inside me I could not seem to banish.
“I like that,” he said. “I’ll use it. You’re right. It is much more compelling. Unfortunately, not much can be done for Vanessa’s feelings.”
“Did she love you?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t believe so. She will be angry that she isn’t going to be Queen. On that you can trust me. It has been a goal of hers most of her life. She has always known that she was the most suitable woman in all the land for the heir apparent.”
“Bloodlines.”
“Bloodlines,” he said. “They are all important when you are royal.”
“For all that my father was difficult, and there were things that he...that he did and said that I feel were wrong...I was taught that people were more than blood. That we are spiritual. That our souls are what truly matter. This idea of blood overshadowing everything is so foreign to me.”
“It’s a lovely concept,” he said. “That a human being’s spiritual self might matter more than, say, who his father was. But in my experience that is simply not the case. Man is a physical being. He wants power. Above all else. And the best way to consolidate that is with money. And then you can make rules. Any rules you like. About how the power can only be passed down through blood. When a man is hungry, he eats. When he desires a woman, he finds physical release with her. When he is tired, he sleeps.”
&nbs
p; “And what does he do when he is sad? What does he do when he’s lonely? When he has a fear, or a hope or a dream, who does he confide in? And when he finds satisfaction for those things, what does it feed? His body? Or his soul?”