Page 43 of Vows to a King
“Please, Adonis—”
“Or is it that,” he said, spewing all the poison that had festered since he’d been a boy, “the idea of not being the Queen of Thalassos anymore, the idea of being married to only Adonis Vasilikos, does not suit you?”
* * *
Jemima felt as if she had been slapped across the face.
Her flesh had the memory to supply her because her father had once slapped her out of nowhere and Jemima, back then, hadn’t known to duck.
The same metallic tang of fear flooded her mouth now, while the rest of her body shook, as if it couldn’t understand what her mind had already perceived. As if it couldn’t understand the source of the sudden shivers that overtook her.
Still, she tried to leash her own roiling emotions, knowing that her husband needed her now. After all, her vows to the King had long transformed into love for the man. “You know that is not true,” she said, her throat full of tears turning her words into a soft whisper, instead of the mighty roar that they should’ve been. Beneath the shock came hurt, twisting her insides with its vicious fingers. “Please don’t make this about me.”
“Make this about you?” Adonis thundered, anguish and rage and hurt ravaging his beautiful features. He looked like a painting by some great master caught in the minute of acute torment. Frozen in that state forever. No, she would not stand for that. “Of course, this becomes about you and me and the family we are growing. You’re naive to think it doesn’t touch our lives.”
She planted a palm across her belly and his gaze instantly zeroed in on the gesture. If she thought the subtle reminder would calm him, though, she was proved wrong. Tension radiated from him in buffeting waves. And she tried to stand still and steady in the middle of it. Knowing that this moment could make or break them.
“Our children will do fine even if they’re not the heirs to Thalassos, Adonis. You know that there’s no bigger present to these boys than us loving them. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that they might thrive more being your children rather than heirs to the kingdom. So, what is it that bothers you about this?”
“And what about Zayn?” She didn’t doubt that it was his affection and attachment to her young brother that reverberated in his words. “You think your father would allow me to have custody of his son if he learns that I’m nothing but a pretender to the throne? What then, Jemima? Would you be willing to lose him?”
Jemima knew a minefield when she saw one. Reaching him, she clasped his cheek, hoping that her touch would anchor him. “You know how much I love my brother and that I would do anything for him and that I have. But you forget the most important thing in all this, Adonis.” She pressed her forehead into his chest and the scent of him fueled her on. “I trust you. I trust you more than anything in the world. I trust that you will find a way to keep Zayn with us, a way to keep my father away from him.”
Her hopes were once again squashed when Adonis stiffened against her touch and moved back. Sudden desolation claimed her, followed by raging fury.
She loved this man so much and she had been sitting on that realization for so long that Jemima did not remember who she had been before this love for him had suffused her entire being.
And the very same love filled her with an inordinate amount of courage to speak the truth, to speak her truth.
“It is clear that Adamos does not wish to return to Thalassos, at least for now. It is also clear that the kingdom thrives with you as king. So, what is it that you cannot accept about all this?”
“I would not be able to forget, for a second, that all of this is not mine. I would not be able to forget—”
“One old, hateful man’s spewing and twisting lies? You are his son, Adonis, whether you were born to a maid or a queen. Your mother raised you as her son. To my calculation, that makes you King. But if you want to continue your delusion, if you want to revel in the pain he caused you instead of your people, instead of everything you and I have built together, then yes, maybe you’re not fit to be King.”
It was his turn to blanch. Whatever anger and fury and anguish she had seen in him before disappeared, leaving a bleakness in his eyes.
And her heart thought it might shatter in her chest as he stood there alone. As he’d been his entire life. As he was choosing to be in this moment, even though he didn’t need to be.
The words burst out of her, even though she knew they wouldn’t land just then.
“I love you Adonis,” she said, loudly enough that her words rivaled the raging of the storm outside. “I love you even though you are struggling in this moment. I love your sense of integrity, your command of a room, your hatred for diplomacy. I even love your madness for risks. I love that you put everyone else before you. I love that your respect and love for your mother and your homeland brought you back to all this. I love that you care about your brother and that you think you’re stealing this from him. If only you could see yourself through my eyes, Adonis,” she said, repeating his own words to him. “Then you would know that you’re a king no matter who you were born to, no matter what one mad king says.”
“And if I refuse to be king? If I give up all this, what would your love do then? Would you follow me anywhere, Jem? Would you leave this blasted kingdom and give up all this?”
She smiled but it lacked any warmth or humor or good feeling. He would still continue to test her love then? Or was it himself he didn’t trust?
Her heart nearly shattered at the sadness of the thought.
“It is because I love you that I will not let you give up all this, because I see what is possible for Thalassos and its subjects and even Ephyra, that I should stop you from giving it all up. My love would not be what it is, if it shies away from the truth, Adonis, if it only tells you what you want to hear.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, his lean chest rising and falling.
Seconds piled by and Jemima waited for him to cover the distance between them, to take her in his arms and tell her that she was right, to tell her that he loved her too.
With each passing tick of the giant clock on the wall, she also knew that she had lost him. She took a step back then, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Harder than loving this man. Which came to her easily, for he was one of a kind.
He was a king truly, where it mattered.
