Her lips parted?—
He braced for a dismissal.
But her voice was breathy. Uneven. “Not for a lack of trying, it seems.”
“Should we…” He dared another step closer. “Talk about it?”
The long column of her throat moved with a deep swallow. “We can.” She glanced down the hall, where voices escaped from the main hall. “Maybe not here.”
Dimitrios should see to the shouts, but… His presence wouldn’t solve anything right away. It would take time and finesse to win those men over.
Besides, dead men can’t rule, and Milonia was single-handedly bringing him back to life. He’d be a fool to let this distance between them grow further.
He considered their location and the distance to his or her private chambers. Too far. However, one room nearby sat empty this time of year. “Follow me.”
The frosted panes inside the winter solarium let in a wash of silver light. The hearth, carved with etchings of winter flora, sat cold and dark.The room was hushed, too warm. A whole world away from the madness outside.
Milonia stepped past him to glide her fingertips across the surface of the marble table in the center.
Dimitrios stood at a distance, unsure if the ground beneath him was solid or ready to collapse.
“That night,” he began, “when I pushed you away...”
Her shoulders stiffened.
Guilt slammed into him. “I didn’t want to. You can’t imagine how?—”
“I know why you did it.” Milonia faced him, composed. Looking directly into him for the first time. “You’re a king.”
“I’m only a man, Milonia. Just a man.” He stepped forward. “A ghost who’d long forgotten what it’s like to wear skin. To breathe. To look at and be looked upon.”
Dimitrios took her silence as an invitation and backed her into the marble table.
Milonia gripped the stone edges on either side of her hips. Swallowed. Gaze searing into him.
“I love the way you look at me,” he whispered.
“What way?”
“I feel… You make me feel…”
Words failed. But what more was there to say? Hadn’t he been walking the world like a cold shell of someone who once laughed and loved?
Dimitrios slid a hand over her soft cheek and into her hair. “You make me feel.”
Milonia left his touch, spinning one full rotation out of reach. “You may think yourself a mere man, but you’re also one with power. Few women survive such ambition, especially ones in my position.” A great chasm of distance filled her eyes, and she was no longer seeing him. She was somewhere else entirely. “I have Caius to consider.”
The boy’s name was a knife to the chest. Not out of resentment, but understanding. His own son never took his first breath. His wife died believing their child would live. He’d held their lifeless bodies, and no amount of prayers or tears or screamed curses changed their circumstances.
But Caius… That boy laughed. He looked at Dimitrios like aman who was more than his title. And Milonia, this fierce, beautiful woman, had shattered the glass around his cold heart.
Dimitrios didn’t remember deciding to move. But, suddenly, he was there. Staring through the storm raging in her eyes to something deeper. Darker. Unspoken.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “We haven’t crossed a line that can’t be?—”
“I am begging you—don’t finish that sentence.”
Her lips parted, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
