“No.” He held up a hand. “Perean sits in a vulnerable state after Orestis’s poor decisions, and the man holding all the authority at themoment is sitting on his hands. You know…” He paused and hooked his hands to his hips. “Perean’s future sat at the forefront of my father’s mind for decades, but he couldn’t do anything about it, could he? Not while he was shackled and broken in that fucking tower.
“But, I’m here”—he aimed a finger at the marble floor—“in the wide open. Ready to do whatever it takes. So, I need you to decide, Inquisitor. Decide before it’s too late for me to help my people.”
Stavros’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not quite. But something dangerously close. “We will take this up again tomorrow. In a more formal setting.”
“Take a few days, Lord Salidis. Gather all your questions because we will finish this in our next meeting. You will make your ruling by next week. Our people can’t continue to endure the quibbling and indecision of Orestis’s council. Not if what I’ve just heard is true.”
Dimitrios spun toward his mother’s apartments before Stavros could argue. These men had wasted enough valuable time, and surely Stavros saw that. If the council’s goal had been to put his cousin Alexandra on the throne, they’d misjudged her own intentions. No one had seen nor heard from her since learning she’d arrived on her uncle’s palatial footsteps five months ago. She could be dead for all anyone knew, and Dimitrios couldn’t bring himself to care.
At Pandora’s apartments, he rapped a knuckle three times to the door before swinging his way inside. “You won’t believe?—”
Across the expanse of Pandora’s sitting room, the terrace doors sat wide open to allow for the breeze drifting in from Castona Bay. The woman standing at the marble balustrade wasn’t his mother. Her back was to him, and her thick brown hair was tied back in loose twists that hung to her belted waist. Her sleeveless silk chiton reminded him of cinnamon and turned the light brown tones of her skin to honey.
Pandora’s voice cracked like thunder as she exited her private bed chamber. “There you are. How was your ride with Commander Contas?”
Dimitrios, heart in an abrupt gallop, cleared his throat. “Good. Fine.”
The woman on the balcony drifted toward their voices, her dark eyes large and round, surrounded by thick lashes. She met his gaze, and her full lips turned up in the corners.
He should have looked away first. He should have bowed and excused himself, let her slip out of sight and out of mind.
Instead, his feet took root. His pulse flashed like a roaring flood in his ears. Her gaze dipped, and his stomach clenched like he’d been caught in something illicit.
Too much. Too soon. Too damn tempting.
Heat flashed through his entire body, and he couldn’t tear his gaze off the younger woman. Although “young” wasn’t accurate. Younger than him, but he didn’t suspect by much. She would certainly have a husband and several children.
“Who’s this?” As soon as he asked, he winced. He knew exactly who this was. The palace’s new Head of House.
Pandora had released a woman named Roya ages ago for “stirring things up.” The woman wasn’t missed by anyone, especially considering her tendency to whip the staff if she caught them acting out of line. Something Dimitrios had no intention of tolerating in the future.
“Dimitrios,” Pandora began, coming forward, “this is Milonia Dardana. Your new Head of House.”
He bowed his head in greeting. “How was your tour?”
“Thorough, Your Majesty.” Milonia’s accent came like musical notes crafting a lullaby. “I shouldn’t face any issues finding my way around.”
“If you should, I’d be happy to help,” he said, then caught the strange look on his mother’s face. Her hazel eyes darted between the two of them, lips in a slight pucker. “Selene, too, would be most helpful. She grew up in the palace. Have you met her?”
Milonia let loose a low, throaty chuckle that tickled his skin. “Not yet, but your mother speaks as if she is a saint.”
He felt the urge to smile. How strange. “Selene is no saint, but we are quite fond of her.”
“She certainly helped our transition into the palace,” Pandora said. “It’s too bad she will be leaving soon.”
The room sharpened, and Dimitrios directed his full attention on his mother. “Leaving?”
He’d asked Selene for three months, and when she and Augustus continued to stay on, he hadn’t questioned it. Selene filled certain holes in his heart that had been emptied by the loss of his sisters.
Pandora lowered onto a settee. “Augustus is, at present, preparing to crew his ship so they can begin their travels.”
Milonia cleared her throat in that gentle way servants had to interrupt. “I’ll let you two catch up. Shall I see to your afternoon tea?”
“Yes, please,” Pandora said. “Thank you, Milonia.”
She curtsied to them, then strode toward the exit. At the door, she paused to peer over her shoulder. Her gaze found his right away, and a flush filled her cheeks.
Then she was gone, and he stared at the empty place she’d occupied as if she might reappear.
