to protect her from.
TWO DAYS PASSED, and with them Alex’s premonition came true. As the blood test undertaken by the royal physician was rushed through the requisite channels, rumors of her presence spread through the palace in a flurry of gossip only a royal household could induce.
By the time the results of the test were delivered to the palace, confirming that Alex was indeed King Gregorios’s daughter, the gossip had spilled to the press, who were demanding confirmation.
Nikandros made it clear they could not wait long in issuing a statement from the press office confirming her as a Constantinides. The longer they waited, the more time the press had to speculate on the story, something the family didn’t need as the country fretted about a coming confrontation with its sister island.
It was with this daunting scenario in place that Alex met her father for the first time. Accompanied by Stella to his suite in the west wing of the palace where the king was convalescing, they were told Queen Amara was out for the day. Alex had the distinct impression she was avoiding her as the scandal she was.
Propped up against a pile of pillows, his leathery olive skin lined and craggy from almost four decades of rule, her father was pale beneath his swarthy complexion, his abundant shock of white hair looking out of place on a man who was clearly fighting what might be his last battle.
Stella left. Frozen with indecision, Alex stood in the center of the room. The king opened his eyes, directing a brilliant beam of Constantinides blue at her. “Come. Sit.”
She forced herself to move, perching on the chair drawn up beside the bed. Ruthless, arrogantly sure of his rule, beloved by his people, perhaps one of the last of an impenetrably powerful group of monarchs, her father was vastly intimidating.
He scoured her face. “You look like your mother.”
She nodded. Cleared her constricted throat. “We are very much alike. In looks and disposition.”
“How is she?”
“She is fine. We run a hotel, my family. It does well.”
The king nodded. Contemplated her silently. “You are a Constantinides. As Nikandros will have told you, that gives you royal status. A place in this family.”
“Yes.” She drew a deep breath. “That’s not why I’m here. I came to see you. To know my brother and sister. Not to cause upheaval.”
His eyes darkened, a hint of emotion entering his gaze for the first time. “Upheaval there will be. Many mistakes have been made on all sides.” He lifted a hand. “I am not long for this world, as you can see, so it will not be up to me to right my wrongs. My wife will come to terms with this. It is you, Aleksandra, who must step up and claim your rightful place in this family.”
Her hands, clasped together in her lap, tightened their grip, nails digging into her flesh. No outpouring of warmth from this man. No declarations of love for his own flesh and blood. No regret he hadn’t been there for her...
Stella had been right. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. And yet she had.
Knowing her father was alive had instilled a sense of longing in her. To have that illusion her mother had painted for her, that of a father who’d be excited at the thought of her. Perhaps not the one who would have taken her fishing, who would have taught her about boys, because that was not who this man was to her. Perhaps one with whom she could have forged a more mature bond. One who would have considered her a gift he’d never known he had.
It knocked the wind out of her, the hope. A dull, dead throb pushed its way through her.
“Did you love her?” she rasped, needing to know if her mother’s feelings had ever been returned. Needing to salvage something from this.
The king fixed her with that steely blue gaze. “I cared about your mother, but no, I did not love her. A king’s priority is to the state. There is no room for anything else.”
She could have begged to differ, because clearly her brother was very much in love with his wife, but the frozen feeling invading her, siphoning off the emotion that threatened to corrode her insides, made it impossible to speak. Buffered her from more pain.
She had come for answers and she had gotten them. Perhaps not the ones she’d wanted, but answers nonetheless.
* * *
Alex spent the rest of the day attempting to wrap her head around the decision she had to make, the media circus going on outside the palace walls making her imminent decision a necessary one.
The decision should have been easy, because she’d never wanted to be a princess. Her visit with her father had been desperately disappointing. Her loyalty lay with the promise she’d made to her mother and the hotel they ran. No one could force her to become a royal, but the fact that she was third in line to the throne wasn’t a minor detail she could ignore.
What played a larger role in her decision-making were her brother and sister. Now that she’d met her siblings, it was hard to think of walking away from them. But what did she know of being a royal? A princess? It was perhaps the most important question of all, one only Stella could answer.
She pulled her sister aside before dinner and picked her brain. Was life as a princess the endless round of royal engagements and charitable commitments that it looked from the outside, or was there more to it? Would she have any freedom to chart her course, or would it all be decided for her?
Stella answered honestly, which seemed to be her default setting. Yes, it was much as she’d described. But there was an opportunity to own the role, as she herself had proven.
Armed with the full scope of Stella’s perspective, not that it cleared her confusion much, she and her sister joined her family for a predinner drink. Nik and Sofía were already enjoying a cocktail, minus two-month-old Theo, their infant son, who was with his nanny. Queen Amara walked into the salon just as the butler handed Alex a glass of wine. All eyes focused on the elder queen as she made her way toward Alex. Breath stalling in her throat, she dropped into a quick curtsy, entirely forgetting Stella’s instruction that it wasn’t necessary.
The elder queen waved it off with a flick of her hand. “You are a member of this family now.”
Am I? I haven’t made that decision yet. Her brain rifled through safe things to say. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”
The queen inclined her head. “Amara will be fine.”
The cocktail hour seemed stilted and forced compared with the previous night. When they sat down to dinner, Alex was thrilled to have a knife and fork to devote her attention to.
“When will you be announced as princess?” Queen Amara directed her cool green gaze at Alex. “I would expect soon, given the throngs of media driving us all mad.”
“I—” Alex put down her fork and knife. “I haven’t actually decided yet what I’m going to do.”
Queen Amara lifted a brow. “What do you mean, decide? You are third in line to the throne.”
“I
