Page 10 of American King (New Camelot Trilogy 3)
He looks away from me, to the window, his eyes going distant. “Nimue. I offered to help her family in any way I
could, and together Vivienne and I made sure Lyr’s guardianship was transferred discreetly and legally. In fact, I was even the one to suggest the name. It’s Welsh,” he explains, his eyes still fixed on some far off point in the past. “From the sea. I thought if I was going to make the mistakes of the past, I could at least make them thoroughly.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes snap back to mine and clear. “You will. But not yet.”
“No more secrets, Merlin. You had no right to keep Lyr from me.” Pain tightens my chest again and I pause. “No more secrets.”
“No more,” Merlin agrees, “save one.”
“No.”
“I will tell you, I promise you that. But not now.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “When? Next week? Next month?”
“In two and a half years.”
For a moment, I think he’s joking and I laugh. But he doesn’t join me in laughing, and I see that his face is completely serious.
“Two and a half years,” I say incredulously. “You think I owe you that? After what you’ve done to Embry and me? After hiding my son from me?”
“I don’t think you owe me anything. I recognize that I’ve done cruel or manipulative things to you and the people in your life, but it’s always been in your best interest—in the best interest of everyone. Which is why you will have to wait. Not because you owe me, but because you don’t have a choice.”
I stand up. “Tell me how I’m supposed to trust you. Tell me how I’m supposed to go into that staff meeting and turn to you for advice.”
Merlin gives me a small, sad smile. “You will trust me because it’s in your nature to trust. You will turn to me for advice because I’ve never steered you into a decision that would harm this country or its citizens. The real tragedy of your life, Maxen, is that you will never stop having faith in the people around you, even when they hurt you over and over again.”
He takes his leave, and I take a breath.
You will never stop having faith in the people around you, even when they hurt you over and over again.
It feels like a curse.
I grab my jacket and follow him downstairs.
FOUR
ASH
now
The staff meeting is hard. I knew it would be, and yet sitting in that chair and looking at the faces of my friends and allies—Kay, Trieste, Uri, with Belvedere just outside the door, and Luc and Lamar outside the windows standing guard, and Merlin looking on—it all serves to underscore exactly who isn’t here.
My prince.
It was always something I’d shared with him, this pipe dream of running for President. Most candidates pick a VP to satisfy the base or win over the moderates or some combination of the two. But not me. From the very beginning, I made it clear that I wasn’t taking a single step forward without Embry by my side. I was with Jenny then, so there wasn’t…there couldn’t be what we used to have. But I needed him all the same. He was my brother in arms, my former lover, my best friend. He’d grown up in politics, his mother was a powerful governor, he understood the strategies of schmoozing and courting better than I did.
And I needed him. I just—I just needed him.
And now he’s not here.
Kay accepts the position I offer, so does Trieste. Uri declines, more comfortable with screens and paper than being grilled by reporters, and we talk over our approach for finding a new press secretary. Kay and Trieste immediately plan to interface with Embry’s office to see if they can get a copy of his statement before it’s released, we hammer out a media strategy for his departure, and we agree to keep the gala speech free of any mention of it, although Embry’s resignation will dominate the news cycle. Probably for the next month. We won’t try to sidestep the narratives and we also won’t assign blame. I can see this approach chafes at Trieste, who’d rather try to control the story from the beginning, but it’s not how I run my administration. Embry and the press can say whatever they want—we’ll stick to honesty, restraint, and dignity.
“We need to think about the next election,” Kay says crisply, making a few notes on her tablet. The sunlight pouring through the windows from the Rose Garden strikes deep bronze notes in her black skin and outlines every natural curl corkscrewing from her head. Her suit is tailored to perfection, every sharp line echoing her high cheekbones and delicate jaw. For a moment, I think of the girl I grew up with, the one with the blue yarn braids and the baggy jeans. The older sister who defended me from every bully, every raised eyebrow at the adopted white boy, every busybody mother at Mass who wanted to make sure Althea was teaching me my rosaries and chaplets. And I’m overcome with profound gratitude and debt. For her undeserved affection and loyalty. For her drive and intellect and untiring work.
I stand up and give her a hug, interrupting the flow of the meeting. I don’t care. Everything is falling apart, but Kay has been here for me since I was four years old and I need to hug her. Everyone stops what they’re doing to stare.
