“All right.”
“Father despises the Vidalatos family.”
With that, she pushed open the vaulted doors and strode into a hall where the arched windows let in ample light, highlighting more of the same colorful frescos and statues.
Nikolas strode forward to fill the now-empty space at Dimitrios’s side. “She might have led with that bit of information.”
“Indeed.”
Sahirah quietly slipped past the men and entered the hall, sweeping the room attentively. Finally, she nodded her approval.
The chamber didn’t need thrones to feel like a kingdom. Generations lined the walls like a living tableau—some stiff with suspicion, othersalready looking through him. Here, his blood was the only invitation he had. And maybe not even that.
Beneath the vaulted ceiling’s single skylight, a man sat in the center. Antonis Nicolea. His chair wasn’t a throne, but it may as well have been. Family flanked him on all sides, a living testament to his power.
Rena took up a position to Antonis’s immediate right and urged Dimitrios forward. “Father, this is your grandson, Dimitrios Gabrea Vidalatos.”
Nikolas stiffened and announced a correction. “His Majesty, the King of Perean, Dimitrios Vidalatos.”
Antonis sniffed. “I hope you’re not always this premature, Commander. He is not yet the king, now is he?”
Dimitrios raised a hand to halt the words about to spill from his friend’s mouth. “It’s all right, Nikolas.”
“What is it you want?” Antonis asked.
“Father—” Rena interrupted.
Antonis shot a halting hand up, his gaze trained on Dimitrios. “No need to answer. I don’t care.” He stood, revealing he was of average height—maybe less—and still quite strong. Age hadn’t yet robbed him of his steel spine. His light-weight gold himation wrapped over a white chiton, both brushing the tops of his sandaled feet.
Antonis motioned to the room full of their family. “Consider this your official introduction. Great uncles, aunts, cousins—first, second, third, and so on… Generations of the greatest family this country has ever seen, and somehow, we were never enough for your mother.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“It’s late,” his grandfather said. “I’ll give you accommodations for the night, but I expect you to be gone by morning.”
Antonis strode across the hall, and anyone seated rose out of respect.
Dimitrios turned as his grandfather passed, words escaping him. This was all the old man had to say? He waited for someone, anyone, to interject. Not one of them, his so-called family, would meet his eyes.
Pandora’s advice came to rest on his shoulders like a warm hand. “When you do meet them, I only ask that you do so with an open mind.”
Dimitrios knew family loyalty when he saw it. Pandora herself had instilled as much in him and his siblings. But what could he say now toopen their minds to him? To appeal to the one man whose opinion swayed them?
The answer hit him like a brick.
Family.
Of course.
“Marilena,” he shouted to Antonis’s back, his heart thrumming with renewed hope. The old man stopped but didn’t turn. “She is the most like our mother, practical and bossy—in the best way, of course—and will likely take over as the family matriarch when Mother passes on.
“Mathaios is the quiet one. He listens when you speak,trulylistens, and when he hugs you, he wants you to feel it through to your aching soul.” Here, Dimitrios’s throat threatened to close, but he pushed forward. “Mathaios is determined to follow in his father’s footsteps and ensure the Gabrea lands continue to thrive.
“Theodosis isn’t as serious as Mathaios—he’s actually quite funny and a bit foolhardy, but no less loyal to the family. He’s the first to join the children in their games and never lets a dinner fall quiet. And when my wife died?—”
A boulder lodged in his throat that was damn near impossible to swallow. He’d gone too far, and because of this well of emotion, Dimitrios could fail to reach his grandfather where it mattered most: his family.Theirfamily.
He couldn’t let his words fail him now.
