Page 23 of Vows to a King
“I have no intention of taming you. Or even thinking that you need to be tamed. Whatever the crown council might whine about, King Aristos, and in his absence Prince Adamos, have brought us to the current crisis with the trade renewal treaty. Two men who have been constantly lauded would be great kings, that is. It is important to remind them and our dear neighbor that you’re dealing with a major loss and these are inherited problems.”
The imaginary anvil that seemed to constantly press down on his chest lifted just a little. He knew, firsthand, that Jemima wouldn’t offer him empty platitudes. “I didn’t see it that way.”
“How can you with the entire palace laying the problem at your feet without letting you breathe?”
“I’m not sure I deserve such a fierce champion, Princess,” he said, fighting the feeling of having someone in his corner. Which was a novelty in itself, but he couldn’t get used to it.
She was an ally, yes, but not a friend, he reminded himself with a cynicism that was all too familiar. He had been friendless for a long time—his father and his face had seen to that.
“I think everyone deserves a champion. Even moody, brooding kings who are as volatile as the volcano that made Thalassos so fertile.”
Two more steps and they would be upon each other. Adonis thought he might burst from the pulsing need he felt to taste her and touch her and consume her whole.
Would the constant inner conflict he felt at being in the palace be soothed by it, by her? Was that why he felt so drawn to her? “I’m curious, Princess. Do you visit me every evening to see my cranky, threadbare temper or to remind me that soon-to-be kings shouldn’t so easily lose it?”
“If I told you the truth, Your Highness, you would not believe it.”
“Enough with that address,” he snapped, just as he reached her.
She looked up, and once again, he was hit by the allure of her simple beauty which came from utter acceptance of herself, he thought. Like the Aegean that surrounded the tiny island kingdom he called home, like the hills dotting its perimeter…there was something timeless and earthy and utterly enchanting about Jemima Nasar.
“As soon as you stop calling me Princess in that infuriatingly mocking tone then. I’ve never been princess of anything.”
“And if I stop it, will you grant me the truth behind your visits, Jemima?”
She smiled then and it touched her eyes. And he thought it was her first real smile of today and that it was his. “I come here because I want to be of help. I know how overwhelming the constant demands of people dancing attendance on you can get. But I also come because I’m curious about you. I always have been.”
“Because I’m the most beautiful man in the world?” he said, a bitter edge to his tone. “Or because I’m the most devilish and you would like a taste of the scandalous and the forbidden?”
* * *
“Are you forbidden to me still, Prince Adonis?” Jemima asked, her breath hovering in her throat.
It felt like one of those moments in life where one leapt off the cliff into the unknown or was forever left behind thinking what-ifs.
And Jemima was finally ready to leap.
For two weeks, she’d made this same trek from her far-off wing in the palace—Adonis had ordered that his fiancée move closer to him, out of reach of her father—to this courtyard which had morphed into his study. She had known, instinctively, how he would chafe at being cloistered inside solid walls for hours and days on end.
His escapades, as a rambunctious child and then as a teenager, were legends among the palace staff, often repeated with fondness and amusement. Yet, she hadn’t seen that spark in him, that devilish humor much, since his return.
A part of her also resented that she only got this close to this stunning, intriguing man under these extreme conditions. And she wanted to change that. She wanted to know him.
Her father’s autocratic commands ever since he had realized she had a working brain had turned her into a coward. But now, enough of her dithering, of not shooting the best shot she had been given after years of subservience.
She covered the last step and placed her palm on his chest. Clad in a fitted button-down shirt, he was warm and solid under her wandering fingers. “Does my question scare the man whom nothing scares?”
His fingers steepled her wrist in a firm grip but he didn’t push her touch away. “No,pethi mou. I’m not forbidden to you. But that’s not the same as having me, is it?”
The taunt landed with silky smooth precision, taking a chip off of her courage. “No, it’s not.” She sighed. “You were right that I judged you and your decisions based on nothing but your reputation. On reflection though, half of that is because of my own hang-ups. It’s easy to lose oneself in the games and politics that abound within these walls.”
“And what is it that you want of me, Jemima?”
“Another chance. A fresh start. For just you and me.”
“To begin what?”
“I meant what I said to my father and his cronies. I want friendship and trust and whatever else we can muster up between us. Especially the last for ourselves, for everything else will be tested and devoured by Thalassos. Including our ability to be parents.”
