Demetrius as a dictator and a tyrant, Iliana saw the real side of him, the warmth, the compassion and his absolute love for Icarus. Everything he did was for his country and, now it seemed, for her. They’d had misunderstandings in the past, butted heads politically, but this was different. Their relationship wasn’t professional anymore. It was on a whole other level.
Casmir came to the garden door and greeted them, kissing Serena’s cheek and patting her belly.
Iliana curtsied to the king of Rizari, out of habit more than a required formality. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”
Despite his royal status, he and Iliana had become close friends since he and Serena had married. “I can’t answer that question. You know if it feels right.”
She touched her stomach, which was fluttering with butterflies. “I feel nervous.” She was fully aware of the gravity of the step she was taking. “But happy.”
“Then, I think you answered your own question. He’s waiting for you. Are you ready?” Casimir asked.
Iliana nodded, and Casimir opened the door to the garden.
Iliana stepped across the threshold for the second time that night. Once inside, her worries and doubts melted away, and all she could see was Demetrius waiting for her at the end of the petal-strewn aisle.
He was incredibly handsome, refined yet rugged. She liked that about him. She could envision him swinging an ax as easily as she could imagine him planting seeds in his garden.
Walking toward him, her body felt light; her feet floated on air. She was doing the right thing, allowing love and joy into her life. Iliana welcomed her future with open arms.
* * *
The reception following their intimate wedding ceremony brought several more important faces. Demetrius introduced her to generals in the Icarus army and navy and his political advisers. It seemed everyone who had a hand in running the country was celebrating with them in their home. Despite the last-minute plans and the late-night festivities, their guests were in high spirits.
A few times Demetrius seemed to be in a serious conversation with someone, but then he would find her face in the crowd and they’d share a private smile. He was the president of the country. He had work to do. But tonight was about them.
After a couple of hours, Demetrius swept Iliana into his arms. He addressed the room from the doorway. “Thank you all for coming tonight, but I bid you good night. My wife and I have plans.”
The crowd roared with laughter, and Demetrius’s military men banged their beer mugs against the wooden tables and cheered.
“Demetrius, everyone will know,” Iliana said as he carried her toward his bedroom. Their bedroom.
“That I’m having sex with my wife? So what?”
She wasn’t a prude, but some topics were private matters. “It’s so...intimate.”
Demetrius kissed her on the mouth. “Which is why I did not invite anyone else along.”
She laughed, threaded her fingers around the back of his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. He took the stairs with her in his arms.
“Thank you, Demetrius, for tonight. For making this special for me.”
“You’re my wife. There is nothing I would not do for you, and I expect the same in return.”
A shiver of concern coursed over her as doubts pressed at the edges of her emotions. She had given him her loyalty, her heart and her life. Though they had not explicitly discussed it, she would resign from her position as the queen’s personal secretary. She would live in Icarus with Demetrius. Wasn’t that a lot to give up for him? Did he expect more?
Demetrius entered his bedroom and kicked the doors shut behind them. The room was overflowing with flowers, lilies of all colors set in vases, petals strewn on the floor. Candles flickered in glass containers, illuminating the room.
Demetrius laid her on the bed. “I suppose you’ll be angry if I tear your new dress. You look so lovely in it, and that makes it much harder to be patient.”
She ran her hand over the soft, intricate lace. “You can’t tear it. I want to use it to make baptismal gowns for our children.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “Already we’re discussing children?” She could tell by his expression he liked the idea.
When they were alone, he made little effort to conceal his emotions. In public, he was stone-faced and cold. This warm, spirited side of him stirred her emotions. She felt connected to him, as if she alone got to enjoy this side of him.
“Will you help me remove my dress so I might make love to my husband?”
He loosened his tie around his neck. “Yes. Absolutely. I want you naked of everything except my rings. You must wear my rings.”
She touched the rings on her left hand. “And you must wear mine.”
He removed her dress carefully and laid it over a chair. When they rushed together, Iliana felt the supreme rightness of being in his arms.
* * *
Iliana awoke in Demetrius’s bed. Not Demetrius’s bed. Their bed. Demetrius was gone. She stretched beneath the sheets and then looked for a note. But she found nothing to indicate where he had gone. She ignored the twinge of disappointment. She had wanted to wake with him beside her on their first morning as husband and wife. Perhaps it was a good thing. She was sore. Demetrius was an energetic lover, and she didn’t think she could have sex with him again, which he would inevitably have wanted if she’d awoken in his arms.
She took a shower, pleased to see he had provided women’s shampoo and toiletries for her. That small gesture erased the lingering disappointment of waking without him.
She dressed in the clothes that Serena had brought for her and went in search of her husband. Just thinking of him in those terms made her shiver.
She found Demetrius on the main floor in his office. She entered without knocking. He was wearing a suit, as he often did, standing at the window and was on the phone, his headset clipped to his ear. She circled his desk and slipped her arms around him.
He was speaking French. She hadn’t heard him speak it before. She’d had some basic French lessons in her youth but didn’t remember enough to follow the conversation in any meaningful way.
When he disconnected a few minutes later, she kissed him. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Eight.” His voice was cold, and he removed her hands from around him. “I need to speak with you about a grave matter.”
He had to leave on a trip. Trouble in the Mediterranean. Concern whipped through her. “Are Serena and Casimir all right?”
“They are fine. I would have woken you if this matter involved them. This does involve your family, though.”
Since her parents had died in a tragic car accident years earlier, she hadn’t been able to shake the dread that someone else she loved would be taken from her abruptly. That sense of loss
