Milonia hugged Caius to her side. “Septimus was killed many years ago.”
Caius said, “Momma says he was a great soldier.”
Dimitrios barely heard the boy; he was so intent on Milonia’s face. She could hardly meet his eyes.
He wasn’t doing much better. He couldn’t even drum up a simple“I’m sorry to hear that.”Not that the words helped. There wasn’t a word in the entire world capable of erasing a loss like that.
Milonia smiled down at her son. “We must go.”
As she shuffled him toward the exit, the boy shouted back, “I’ll tell you their names tomorrow.”
Dimitrios nodded and forced words past his tight throat. “I look forward to it.”
The stablemaster started off as well. “You made the boy’s day, Your Majesty. That was very generous of you.”
The honorific took him so aback that Dimitrios could only stare at the man’s retreating back.
Once alone, Nikolas whirled on him. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dimitrios strode outside and squinted into the glaring sunlight.
Nikolas jogged ahead to step into his path, and when Dimitrios didn’t stop, the commander walked backward. “You’ve been undressing that woman with your eyes for weeks. Do you want to explain why you just looked ready to vomit all over her pretty little toes?”
Because, for weeks, Dimitrios had been prying open dead eyes. For the first time in nearly three years, he thought maybe, just maybe, he was ready to move forward. Had he known Milonia was a mother, he wouldn’t haveallowed those ideas to seep into his subconscious. It was one thing to consider bringing a woman into his life, but another altogether to consider a woman and herchild.
“Neither of those things are true,” Dimitrios finally said.
“No one would blame you if you wanted to dabble with the help.”
Dimitrios halted. “Why do you say such things?”
“But if you’re not, can I?”
“No. Move on. I’m done with this topic.”
They walked side-by-side now, Dimitrios cooler on the heels.
“Augustus Liebenus Triarius,” Nikolas said.
Dimitrios groaned. He’d come out here to getawayfrom that particular subject. Or to, at least, devise a way out of executing the man who’d been… Not a friend, exactly. But a man who mattered desperately to Selene. She would never forgive Dimitrios for this.
“He has to hang,” Nikolas said. “I know it’s not what you want to hear?—”
“Then don’t say it.”
“If you want everyone to see you as their king, you have tobethe king.”
Dimitrios slowed his steps to look his friend in the eye. “What about Selene?”
“What about her?”
One more wrong word, and Dimitrios was going to punch his closest friend.
Selene was important. She mattered. Maybe not to people like Nikolas, but to the Pereans, the regular citizens, she was the sun and the moon.
To Dimitrios, she was the first person who didn’t look at him like a sad, grieving farmer. She’d taught him how to move through this foreign court and shielded him from political ruin before he’d even learned the rules. She’d remained at his side this entire time, never doubting his potential. Selene would fight every battle for him, and now…
She was going to hate him.
