Page 8 of Pregnant at the Palace Altar

Diamandis always took responsibility. So, though he had no desire for a queen or family, she would become his. There was no question. The child—children—she carried were his. There were no other possible outcomes.

What he wanted or did not want had never signified before. They would not now.

“Do you need a countdown, Katerina?”

She held his gaze for what felt like hours. He saw the myriad greens that leaned toward blue and gray in different lights; the elegant curve of her neck; the soft, honeyed skin over which he’d once run his hands.

It still echoed within him. Between them...the way she had fallen apart in his arms as though she had yearned for him exactly as he had yearned for her since that very first meeting.

He was not alone in this torturous want, he knew, simply by the color rising on her cheeks. He wished that were some kind of comfort.

“I cannot understand your reluctance.”

“Reluctance?”She groaned in disgust. “You are delusional. This is not reluctance. It is refusal.”

“We will be married, Katerina, and while you seem to view that as some kind of tragedy, I assure you that you will want for nothing, as queen.”

“Except a warm, loving home and privacy,” she returned.

He had once had that warm, loving home. His childhood was nothing but memories of his parents’ love, his family’s devotion. But these things did not matter, regardless of how good they might feel. These things were as fragile as glass and could be taken away by any person’s whims.

So, no, he did not plan to fill his home withlove.

Twins, twins, twins.

“You get along quite well with my sister. I’m sure the two of you can forge some kind of friendship as you enter motherhood together. You may fill your part of the palace with as much warmth and love as you so wish.”

This did not wipe the frown off her face. The downward curve only settled deeper, when it was a good and kind point, all in all.

“Do you recall what I said to you when your plan was to throw Lysias in a dungeon the minute he stepped on Kalyva soil?”

Diamandis did not care to think about the days that had led up to learning Zandra was indeed his long-lost sister. At the time, Diamandis had been certain his former best friend had returned to Kalyva with an imposter, meant to hurt Diamandis. Now, months later, he felt justified inmostof his treatment of Lysias, who had not returned with Zandra out of the goodness of his heart, but with revenge on his mind. But somehow love had changed that for Lysias, though Diamandis did not know why any man who’d been through what they had could be felled bylove. In the end, Lysias had fallen for Zandra and given up on revenge.

Now, somehow, they were a family...as Zandra kept reminding him, no matter how much Diamandis withdrew into himself.

He looked at Katerina, knowing she would now have to be part of it all, knowing it would be harder—but even more necessary—to withdraw from her.

His duty was to Kalyva, and Kalyva alone. So he had heeded her advice at the time and not thrown Lysias in the dungeons.

“You said it would be seen as the action of a cruel, lifeless robot, which I was not,” he returned stiffly, because she had been right about the situation and that fact still burned. He wishedcruel, lifeless robotwas more within his reach than his conscience ever let it be.

“I was wrong,” Katerina said, looking at him with an anger he’d never seen there in her eyes. “Youarea cruel, lifeless robot. I don’t want anything or anyone to ever hurt my children. I know you will. This alone proves it.”

She had never been afraid to stand up to him in the years she’d worked for him, but she’d also never stabbed such a dagger into his heart. “I do not hurt people, Ms. Floros. As king, it is my job to protect them.”

As his family had not been protected. And now, somehow, he had family once again. The one thing he did not want. For he would never be worthy of it.

“You speak of violence, Diamandis, but it doesn’t take a bloody coup or an attack to hurt people. You can hurt them by not listening to them. By ignoring their needs. You can hurt them by—”

“This is your last chance,” he said, struggling with the temper he knew was one of his worst traits. He’d learned to control it over the years, but it was a constant battle, particularly when someone was being so unreasonable—someone he had once respected before she’d betrayed him.

“My last chance for what?” she returned tartly.

“A civil, voluntary arrangement. If you do not come with me now, you will lose your job, this apartment, and the chance to have anything else. When those children are born, they will be taken from you. I will make certain of it. This is not my wish, but if you twist my arm, I will make it happen. They are the heirs.”God help them.“They are mine. This is theonlycourse of action.”

Her breathing became ragged, but she did not fall apart. She did not beg his forgiveness or jump to act. She simply stared at him with hatred in her beautiful eyes.

He hated that a black, oily emotion roiled through him—one he refused to examine. “I will be in the car. You have fifteen minutes to make your choice.” And with that he strode out of the apartment.

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