It was for show.

It was for show.

That doused some of that fire in me.

It wasn’t that Hercules wanted me so. He wanted to drive the point home to the press that what he’d done he did out of duty and love, to instill in his people a sense of confidence that he was a ruler who would do things in a much more measured way than his father.

When we parted, he still held me, his arm around my waist.

And he took a breath. Just one, but it was ragged at the edges, and it gave me the hope that he had not been unaffected by what had passed between us.

I shouldn’t care.

I truly shouldn’t care.

“So you see,” he said, his voice slightly lower. Slightly rougher. “There is duty, and then there is something that goes beyond it. It would’ve been a grave misstep for me to carry on with my engagement to Vanessa, even though it would have been the path of least resistance. But I’m not a man who takes the path of least resistance. I’m a man who acts for the best interests of all those involved. And I am a man who will do more than simply lead clinically, as has been done before me.

“And I will make change where change must be made. To ensure that the citizens of Pelion are living with freedom and are not being shut out of the comforts which the royal family has enjoyed without them for far too long. I hope, if you can, that you will see these actions I’ve taken now as an indicator of who I am, and that you will find it to be positive.”

Another reporter stood up.

“No further questions,” Hercules said.

“You said we got three,” the man said.

“I did,” Hercules confirmed. “I have changed my mind. And as I told you, I reserve the right to do so.”

And then he whisked me away from the reporters, and from the clamor behind us, ushering me back into the house.

I had to lean against the wall for strength, my energy suddenly draining out of me as if those questions had punctured a hole in me. And I told myself it was because all of this was overwhelming. Not because Hercules himself was overwhelming.

“You did well,” he said, his dark eyes appraising me, but I saw it there. That he wasn’t unaffected. And my own heart tripped over in response.

“The wedding is in two weeks’ time,” he said. “I have no doubt you’ll be prepared for it.”

“I’m glad you don’t have any doubt, because I... We don’t really know each other, Hercules. We had stolen time together away from both of our real lives. I’m a pastor’s daughter who never left the island the whole time I was growing up. I wasn’t thrust into the real world until after I had Lily... And I had to become so...so hard to protect myself. To protect her. To stop myself from missing what I’d left behind so much that I ached. All the time. And you... All of this is yours. It’s your legacy. But it isn’t mine.”

“But it is Lily’s,” he said, his voice firm. “And that you are bringing yourself into it so she can have it is a great thing you’ve done.”

I was floored by the compliment. “That might be the first nice thing you’ve said about my parenting.”

“I’ve had time to accept that what you did... You had no other choice. That it was my father who did this to us. Not you.”

“It’s forced you to have empathy.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I would simply say that there is no logical way to look at it that casts you as a villain, Marissa, and I am a man of logic, always willing to be corrected if a more reasonable scenario presents itself.”

“Well, I’m happy that my villain status seemed unreasonable to you.”

“There is much to be done in the lead-up to the wedding. Much diplomacy to be handled, seeing as I am assuming the throne the day of the wedding, and there will be policy ready to be enacted upon the exact hour. I will not see much of you over this time.”

It was a relief, though I didn’t tell him that. “Okay. I think I can handle that. Since I haven’t seen much of you over the past five years.”

“Lily will be the flower girl for the wedding.”

My heart squeezed tight. Because somewhere in all this was a mixed-up fantasy of what I had dreamed would happen all this time, even if it hadn’t been a conscious dream. That my Prince had come, even if he was late. That our daughter would share in our special day.

Except, it was not our special day. It was Lily’s, perhaps. It was the kingdom of Pelion’s. And those were good things. But the last thing it was about was myself and Hercules. And, no matter how incendiary a kiss between us might be, I had to remember that.

If I didn’t, I was in danger of breaking all over again.

And I wasn’t sure that I had it in me to emerge stronger the second time. I didn’t know if I would be able to emerge at all.

“In two weeks,” I said, nodding my head purposefully and turning away from him.

Because I had to turn away. Because I had to be strong.

Because none of this was for me.

And it never would be.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hercules

THE DAY OF the wedding, of the coronation, dawned bright and clear. My father was nowhere to be seen, and I was not unhappy with that. I was told by members of staff that he had gone up to his new home—a lavish keep nestled in the mountains—and would likely not be coming down.

It was fine by me, and I would be making an announcement regarding the King’s health for the benefit of the media.

I was ready.

Ready for all of this to be cemented. Ready for it to be over.

We had settled into a pattern at my home, the four of us. Lily chattered and filled the awkward spaces that existed between the adults, and Marissa’s mother had assumed an easy and content position nannying the child. Marissa had been undergoing a crash course in the customs and laws of the country, and what duties were required of a royal spouse.

Meanwhile I had made sure that every piece was in place for an easy transition of power and that I could swiftly repudiate the prohibitive laws my father had placed that kept the people in poverty.

Change what happened. And I knew that change would not be instantaneous, but it would be as close to it as possible under my watch.

And Lily would bear witness to it. To the changes that a good ruler would make, and I had confidence that she would make changes of her own. Her sweet nature—which seemed natural to her—surprised me at every turn.

And it made me wonder if she would have turned out half so well at this point in time if she had been raised with me.

There was something in that child—a lightness—that was not in me. And I knew that it could have only come from Marissa.

I wouldn’t see Marissa until she actually began to walk down the aisle, but I did see Lily, dressed all in white, with ribbons woven through her dark hair and a basket of flowers in her hand. She lit up, and she ran to me, opening her arms.

And the sight was enough to bring me to my knees.

I did not understand how this worked. I had never cared for children much at all. I didn’t dislike them, but they weren’t often in my presence. My sister had been born when I was fifteen, but my father had never allowed me much interaction with her.

But every fiber of my being responded to this child, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would wage war for her.

Essentially, I had. And it had nothing to do really with fairness to her. Everything to do with the fact that I wanted her. She was my child, and I wanted her as mine. I could not go on in a world where I knew she existed and pretended that she did not. An emotional revelation for a man like me, especially one who had a father such as mine.

Every so often that terrified me.

Because wanting just for the sake of it was a dangerous sort of drug. The beginning of all those outrageous justifications that my father himself e

ngaged in.

A man had to act from a more morally superior place than his own soul. And I knew that well.

My father acted from a place of using his own desires as guidance, and he had not been a good father.

I might not know how to be one either, but one thing I knew for sure: I did not want to be like him.

“Daddy,” Lily said, “do you like my dress?”

I was frozen. I didn’t know quite what to do or say. “Yes,” I said, the word sticking in my throat.

“It’s good for twirling.” She spun in a circle happily, and the freedom and simplicity with which she did things struck me. Because while I was contemplating the future of the country, of my humanity, just before my wedding to Marissa, Lily was spinning circles.

I had never been a carefree child. I had not been allowed. I wondered how different I might have been...

But then, there was no point mourning the loss of childlike joy.

What I had become was what was needed for Pelion, for my people, my country. And I would honor my responsibilities.

Right now, that responsibility included seeing to Lily’s happiness.

That was a logical choice.

I liked what Marissa had built in her. And I could see how she was the future of Pelion.

I could see that I would have to work at being a softer parent than my own had been.

That satisfied me because it was a logical conclusion that would put me in a position where I would not crush my daughter’s spirit. The very thought of crushing my Lily made my chest feel like it was so tight I couldn’t breathe.

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