“I don’t believe in what I can’t see. What I cannot touch.”
“That’s very sad.”
“Everything else is simply the way man builds justification for things. All manner of things. We dress our selfish desires up as matters of the heart, as dreams and callings... Morality can be lost much easier than when we view the world through black-and-white terms.”
“Well, for the purposes of the press conference, perhaps we should borrow from my philosophy more than yours.”
“I believe it likely we should.”
I didn’t know why the conversation with him made me sad and happy all at the same time. It reminded me a bit of the kinds of talks we used to have down by the shore. All kinds of things.
Ideas that challenged my view on the world and on myself.
But there hadn’t been an edge to him then, not like this. It was as if he’d let his guard down with me then, rather than wrapping his every word in hardened cynicism.
I studied his face. There were new lines there. Grooves that had settled in by his mouth, by his eyes, just in the years since I had seen him.
I wanted to will them away. To will him back in time.
But I couldn’t. And I knew it.
But we were in the here and now, and he was propelling me out the door and toward the courtyard. It was beautiful, flagstone and vivid green grass, surrounded by glorious flowering bushes.
The security detail was there, and a limited number of press members had arrived as well.
“We will stand in the front. You will stand beside me. You do not need to speak. I will do the talking.”
And then I was following him, right into the public eye. I stood beside him, my hands clasped in front of me as I had seen any number of political wives do at press conferences over the years. I did my best to mimic that pose. That smile, and those rigid, resolute shoulders that they seemed required to possess, whatever their husband might be confessing to.
“I thank you for coming today for this announcement. I appreciate that it is a bit unorthodox. But it seemed the best way to proceed. After I am done speaking, I will give the opportunity for three members of the press to ask a question. And only one question. Then we will be done, and you will be escorted from the premises.”
I could feel the need to ask questions radiating from the people in the audience, but they all seemed too afraid to do anything out of turn.
“To begin with, my marriage will still proceed on the appointed date. But I have an important announcement regarding the bride. Vanessa and I will no longer be getting married. Instead, I am marrying Ms. Marissa Rivero of Medland, Massachusetts.”
To those who didn’t know, that might make it sound as if I had a pedigree. Medland was known for being the preferred second, third or fourth home location of the rich, connected and political. But anyone who truly understood would know that if I was from Medland, I was not one of those people.
If you were well-off, you spent summers there. You didn’t live there.
You certainly weren’t from there.
“I knew Marissa years ago, and we had a romance,” he continued, yet again being very careful with his wording. “Due to the delicate nature of my position, I did not reveal to her who I was, and she was not aware. When our relationship was cut short during a time when I had to return to Pelion, she could not locate me, and when I returned to find her, I could not locate her. Over the course of years, she discovered who I was, and was only recently able to establish contact. When she did, I discovered that she’d had my child.”
The members of the press couldn’t help it—a wave of shock went through them, and chatter rose up in the serene garden.
Hercules held his hand up. And as if he’d roared, they silenced. “I’m not finished. When she found me, not only was I overjoyed to discover that I was a father, but I also found I was overjoyed to be reconnected with her. It was a relationship that I...was never ready to let go of. And I knew that I could not let her get away from me again. It is with great regret that I broke my engagement to Vanessa off, but she understands the extraordinary circumstances that were at play.”
The crowd shifted, and scattered observers began to stand, lurching forward, questions competing with each other to exit their mouths first.
“I’m not finished,” he said again, and again, the crowd stilled. “Further, on the date of our marriage, I will be crowned King of Pelion. Marissa will be my consort, and that is the final word on it.”
They all stood frozen, like dogs on the hunt waiting to be given the command. They didn’t want to incur a scolding from him yet again, Marissa assumed. The disapproval of Hercules Xenakis was a powerful thing.
He inclined his head. “Now you may speak.”
They all jostled for position, raising their hands and hurling out queries. But Hercules pointed to one.
“This question is for Ms. Rivero,” the first man said.
I didn’t know that I would be asked questions, and I wasn’t certain if it was allowed, but Hercules did not deny them, so I turned my focus to the reporter. “Did you track him down finally solely because he was getting married?”
My tongue felt thick and my heart was pounding hard. I didn’t have experience speaking in front of people. I’d even avoided it in church, during prayer or when we’d been asked to share good news in our lives.
But this was for Lily.
I would be a reflection on her, and I had to deal with my nerves, I had to deal with my reservations, my issues, because they would rebound onto her. It couldn’t be helped.
“Yes and no,” I said. Which was true enough. “I had no other way of getting in contact with him. But his location for his celebration before the wedding was revealed. And so I was able to approach him. And I was able to tell him...to tell him about our daughter. The timing is unfortunate, I know, but believe me, if I had been able to tell him sooner, I would have done.”
Hercules looked at me, the expression in his dark eyes unreadable. Unknowable. I would have given much to be able to see into his mind. “There is a duty that a man in my position must assume for his country. A responsibility. Making Lily legitimate is part of that responsibility. She is my heir, and the future ruler of this country. Therefore, whatever speculation you might want to apply to Marissa’s motives, you should know that the right thing was done here. What sort of man would I be, what sort of King would I be, if I ignored my child? If I refused to recognize her, to grant her the legitimacy that she requires. What sort of man would I be if I replaced my heir with another simply to avoid making waves? What would that mean for her? Indeed, for the fate of a nation. But quite beyond that... A man might have responsibilities, but a man has a heart as well. And when I saw Marissa again, I knew that I could not ignore mine.”
I was shocked by the words that had come out of his mouth, for they were in direct opposition to the sort of thing that he had said to me just before we came out here. He wrapped his arm around my waist and then he was pulling me to him. And I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel. All I could do was breathe him in. Him. Hercules.
My greatest triumph and my greatest sin.
The man who had made me a woman. In so many different ways. More ways than just the simple euphemism that was often used for that phrase. No. It was his attention that had given me strength. His touch that had made me wild, and his betrayal that had made me fearless.
And now it was his hand on my chin making my heart beat so fast that I thought I might fall over.
When he claimed my mouth with his, it was like the world exploded. Brilliant bursts of light behind my eyes that left me trembling, shaking.
His mouth was like I remembered it. Warm and firm, but so much better now for all the years of separation.
Like going home.
I had just returned home after a five-year absence, and it had not been like this.
It was as if I’d been struggling with a door for years, and he’d handed me the key to the lock, only to have it click in place and turn easily.
I felt walls collapse inside of me. Walls that had been protecting me. That had been closing off so much in the way of feeling.
Of being a woman.
I had become Lily’s mother. And when I had taken that role on, I had assumed it entirely. I had made myself forget. I had made myself forget the rude insanity of what had caused my change in identity in the first place.
I had done it deliberately. And I had done it well.
But it had only been sleeping. It had not been banished.
That mouth.
He parted my lips with his, sliding his tongue against mine, and that was not for the press, I knew. Because a kiss to the mouth would’ve been just fine without increasing the intimacy.
He had done that for me.
To show me. To show me that no matter what I said I still wanted him.
Of course, I had known that already. I didn’t need his games as a reminder.
It was why I had told him that we would not be having a physical relationship in the first place.
Because I understood that in that equation I was the one who was vulnerable. I was the one who would be wounded.
But right now, I was just the one on fire.
And I was gladly allowing myself to burn.
His hands were large and warm, pressed in the space between my shoulder blades, holding me firmly. He was such a breathless temptation. And I wanted to give in. I remembered all too well how it felt. To leap off the edge of reason and into his beautiful obsidian abyss.
It took me minutes—at least it seemed so to me—to realize that I was making a fool of myself on a public stage. I was melting in the arms of this man for all the world to see.
But I couldn’t pull away, because we were being watched. Because this was the moment he’d warned me about.