The Secret King

Nightmares about the night her family had died, nightmares about the mother she hadn’t had in years and nightmares about her future haunted the little sleep she did have.

“Still thinking about the man who saved your life?” her uncle asked.

Sometimes. Often. “Now and then.” Why was she so obsessed with someone she had met once, for no more than a few minutes? If he wanted to be found, he would be.

What if there was a compelling reason he wanted to remain anonymous to her? He might fear the media response. He might not enjoy the idea of his rescue story being printed in the papers. It was another reason she had to keep her search quiet.

“Let it go, Serena. You don’t know what you saw. You’ll go crazy if you let this consume you,” her uncle said.

He had urged her to forget everything she could about that night. Serena wasn’t in any hurry to relive it, although occasionally brief flashes from that night interrupted her thoughts. “I know someone saved me.”

“And then disappeared. He could have been working with the assassins.”

“Yet he chose to kill one of them to save me?” It didn’t make sense. Unless her instincts were totally skewed, her protector wasn’t involved in the plot to kill her father.

“Please let this go, Serena. You will only be hurt again. I can’t stand to see you in more pain. You have enough grief to manage without adding to it. This fixation with him is unhealthy.”

Maybe she was thinking about her protector because it was easier and far more pleasant to think about him than to think about her father’s and sister’s deaths or how much she missed them. Though she had not lived in the castle and had been happy to have some independence, knowing she could reach out at any time was a comfort. Now, she felt alone.

Serena’s uncle wished to protect her. But he didn’t need to protect her from the man who’d saved her. Iliana returned to serve the tea and Serena changed the subject. No point in upsetting her uncle who was wrestling with his own grief over losing his older brother and his niece.

Her uncle left around nine that evening.

“You’re not giving up on finding the mystery man, are you?” Iliana asked.

“Not a chance,” Serena said.

“Why don’t you let me fly to Icarus and speak to DeSante? He knows something about everything and his spies are everywhere. Give me a few minutes alone with him and I can force the information out of him.” She lifted her knee mimicking hitting the dictator in the crotch.

Serena cracked a smile, rare for her these days. “I don’t think that’s advisable. He has big, scary guards and you’re topping out at five foot two.”

Iliana set her hands on her hips. “For you, I’d kick his butt. You know I could. I’m pretty mean when I’m angry.”

Serena loved that about her cousin. She was loyal and spunky and feared nothing. Her business phone rang and Iliana frowned and answered it, her tone professional and cool. “Princess Serena’s office. Iliana speaking. How may I help you?”

Iliana swore under her breath. “He’s a real piece of work. Hold on.” She pressed a button on her phone.

Dread coiled inside Serena. “What now? What’s happened?” Was her uncle okay? He had only left a few moments earlier.

“The coast guard is on the phone. The Icarus navy is preventing ships from entering our waters.”

Icarus’s navy, one of the fastest, biggest military operations in the region, boasted hi-tech equipment and sailors who came from generations of sailors. They were experts on the water. “What did you say?” Serena asked.

Iliana repeated her statement, this time slower. Serena had heard her the first time, but she hadn’t fully processed the information. Was DeSante planning to attack? Serena had no military experience. How should she maneuver in this situation? Who should she call? Though she had the ear of the head of the Assembly and she was supposed to wield influence, she was green and DeSante knew it.

It was dark, but that wouldn’t matter to the experienced Icarus navy. Was DeSante hoping to catch her off guard, ill equipped and scared? The idea incensed her. She might be weak now, but she wouldn’t be for long.

“Has the coast guard made contact with DeSante? What does he want?” Serena asked.

“I don’t know, hold on.” After a few moments, she said, “They say they want your confirmation that it’s okay to let boats through.”

Her confirmation? That made no sense. Icarus wasn’t in charge of screening what boats entered and exited through their waters. Acacia and Icarus had no such arrangement. “What do they really want?”

Iliana repeated the question into the phone. “He wants to speak to you. He being DeSante, the warlord.”

DeSante wasn’t exactly a warlord, but he wasn’t a peaceable man either. He had come to be president of his country during a violent coup.

This was a warning, then, from Icarus. If she refused to speak to him, DeSante would place an embargo on Acacia.

The dictator of Icarus was playing a dangerous game, mostly dangerous to Acacia with its weaker navy and dependency on imports. If DeSante refused to allow boats into their ports, Acacians would starve. “Put Demetrius DeSante on the line.” She sounded stronger than she felt. She had been avoiding the dictator’s requests for an audience and instead had allowed Iliana to put him off and explain that she’d needed time to grieve. Apparently, that time was over.

Iliana handed Serena the phone.

“Good evening,” Serena said, keeping her voice cool and polite.

“Finally, I have the pleasure of speaking with you,” DeSante said.

She wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with DeSante. “Let the boats through.”

“I would be glad to. I am an ally who can secure your western waters from enemies.”

What a load of crap. Her enemies consisted of him and whomever had killed her family, although Serena still suspected they were one in the same. “Let them through.”

“As you command. I expect a meeting with you shortly or my navy may again feel the need to question boats coming close to your shores.”

“You’ll have your meeting,” she said. She hung up the phone with a quaking hand.

Iliana grabbed her arm. “You did good, Serena. It’s okay. You sounded strong and the right amount of pissed off and polite.”

It wasn’t okay. The sharks were circling because they smelled blood in the water.

* * *

“She’s looking for you,” DeSante said.

Casimir knew it. He needed to play it cool. If he came on too strong, Serena would be suspicious. Casimir needed to approach her in the right manner with his plan in place.

When he was ready, he would allow himself to be found. Or perhaps he would show up at her castle and catch her off guard. The biggest downside to his plan was living with his fake persona a little longer. Being a wealthy heir who liked to party didn’t suit him, but it had been his cover to infiltrate King Warrington’s social circles. Though he had never breached the inner circle, he’d gotten to know enough royals and hangers-on that he couldn’t change his identity now.

“Someone may recognize me and tell her who I am,” Casimir said.

“As long as they give her the cover story and do not reveal who you actually are, you can handle it,” DeSante said.

Casimir could handle anything. He would leak the story that he had been the man who’d saved the princess’s life. It might keep him interesting to the royalty of Acacia and Rizari. Staying close gave him leverage to manipulate the situation to his benefit. “I’m not worried.” Yet. Living a lie every day was almost as hard as harboring the rage he felt toward Samuel Warrington.

“Call me after you make your move,” DeSante said.

“Will do.”

Casimir hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. Few people trusted the president of Icarus, but Casimir did without question. Not only did DeSante owe him, DeSante had a vested interest in Casimir taking control of Rizari. Having allies in the region and preventing Rizari from interfering with Icarus had long been DeSante’s goal. With Casimir assuming the throne, DeSante would have the freedom to do as he wished.

Casimir entered his mother’s house. His weekly meetings with her were difficult to press through, and grew worse with each visit. Casimir hated the stink of booze and cigarettes. “Hey, Mom.”

His mother, Anna, rarely greeted him. She was sitting in the dark in her living room, like she often did. She had the television on, but seemed to be staring blankly at it. Casimir muted it. His mother hadn’t always been this way. Every year, she grew noticeably more withdrawn, tired and depressed. Now, he couldn’t convince her to sit outside on a nice day. She was a recluse and if he didn’t do something, she would die in this dark, dank house.

“He’s still alive,” his mother said. She was looking haggard, having lost weight, and her skin appeared sallow.

Samuel Warrington was still alive. Casimir hadn’t killed him. He had told his mother he would take care of it, but he had failed. The knowledge burned him. But he wouldn’t give up on his new plan. “There were other assassins in the room. They killed the Acacian king and his daughter Danae.”

His mother lit another cigarette. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

Casimir hid his frustration. His mother’s sole focus was revenge. “I couldn’t get to Warrington in the confusion.”

His mother said nothing and her silence reeked of censure. Her history with the king and his family was a bitter one.

One year into her marriage to King Constantine Warrington, he had falsely accused her of having an affair with his brother, Charles, and had exiled her. Anna had blamed Charles’s jealous wife, Katarina, for manufacturing stories about her. She had fled to Icarus with a new identity. Fearing for her life and the life of her unborn child, she hadn’t told the king that she had been pregnant with his baby. She had lived in Icarus and raised her son with her eyes on one goal: for Casimir to return to Rizari in glory and take his crown when he was of age.

But when Constantine and his brother were killed ten years ago, Casimir knew presenting himself as the rightful heir would earn him a knife in his back as well. He needed to be more careful, more crafty. Martyrdom wasn’t the goal. Making things right for his family and Rizari was.

Casimir’s existence and true parentage was a secret from everyone in the world, except his mother and DeSante, whom Casimir had allowed into his confidence when he was fifteen.

When his father had died, so had his mother’s chance of revealing to her ex-husband his true heir. With false accusations about her participation in his and his brother’s murders and her conviction without a trial, her life had spiraled further into darkness. Anna had sworn to Casimir all his life that she still loved his father. His death had robbed her of the family reunion she had not-so-secretly wished for. Anna had believed that Constantine would see that she had been loyal and that Katarina would be revealed as a liar.

That hadn’t happened.

When Anna had heard rumors that Constantine and Charles had been killed by Charles’s son, Samuel, in an effort to usurp the throne, she had made Casimir swear he would avenge his father’s death by killing the king who had stolen his life.

Chapter 2

Iliana recognized the country calling code for Icarus and felt a jolt of adrenaline. She had arrived at the castle early that morning to start work and she was eager for a tussle with DeSante’s goons.

They thought they could push Serena around because she was young and had been distant from her father for some years. There had been no bad blood between Serena and her father, but Serena preferred the quiet of her beach house and the private pursuit of her interests. She hadn’t been idle. She had painted a number of amazing landscapes and was making a name for herself—at least, under her alias—in the international art community. Iliana had brokered deals for her in the United States, Canada, Italy and France as well as throughout the Mediterranean. Iliana’s law degree had some use after all, which was a mild salve on her ego, considering she’d failed the bar exam three times.

“Princess Serena’s office. How may I help you?”

“Iliana.”

One word and Iliana knew instantly she was speaking with Demetrius DeSante, Serena’s enemy and the biggest bully in the Mediterranean. He thought he could push around smaller countries like Acacia. Maybe he had the stronger navy and maybe his economy was larger, but he wouldn’t push Serena around and he wouldn’t push Iliana around either.

“This is she. Who is calling, please?” Pretending she was unaware would knock his ego down a peg.

He had the gall to laugh. Pompous jerk. “This is President DeSante. Iliana, I enjoy our talks so much. But please, call me Demetrius.”

They had spoken twice before. Iliana had been openly hostile both times and she didn’t regret it. “President? Is that your official title? I mostly hear you referred to as a dictator.”

He was quiet for a beat and she wondered if she’d gone too far. Her mouth had gotten her in trouble before.

“I will take great delight in winning you over and hearing you call me by my given name.”

A little shiver of relief mixed with pleasure danced over her. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that.”

“Such hostility from someone I barely know. Of course, I would like to know you better. You’ve proven to be quite spirited. I like that in a companion.”

Companion? What did that mean? Like a friend or a prostitute? She would be neither to him. Her heart raced and it was not because she found his confidence appealing. He was appalling. She would be wise to remember that. “What is it that you want? The princess is not available right now.”

“Such a shame. I was hoping to speak with her this morning about several pressing matters.”

“If you tell me what they are, I will relate them to the princess.” She wondered if he would tell her anything. In the past, he had refused to give her details of why he was anxious to meet in person and speak with Serena.

“Her father kept the peace between Icarus and Rizari. I need to know the princess’s stance on that.”

Was DeSante interested in peace in the region or did he want to stir up trouble? “I can assure you the princess wants no bloodshed.” Iliana shuddered, remembering the night of the king and Princess Danae’s murder. Serena had commanded her to hide in a closet and then had run off to aid her father and sister. Risky and bold, it was the side of Serena that came roaring to life in defense of the people she loved. When Iliana had left the closet where she’d hidden with several other women, the ballroom had looked like a slaughterhouse. Even now, the ballroom had not been reopened. Iliana wondered if it ever would be.

“What do you want, Iliana? Because you sound like you want to wrap your hands around my throat and throttle me, which wouldn’t be keeping with the princess’s desire for peace.”

She scoffed. “I don’t want to wrap my hands around your anything.” Why did that image elicit a strange stirring in her stomach?

“Perhaps you’re attracted to me and you hate that, so you’re lashing out.”

“I am not attracted to you.” Except it was a lie. The first time she had met him in person, she had had no defense against the rush of sensations. Her body had tingled and though he had been professional with her, she’d harbored some decidedly nonprofessional thoughts about him, his mouth, his body. She chalked it up to hormones. Her attraction to the dictator meant nothing. Handsome on the outside, he was a troll on the inside. Handsome could trick her hormones. Mean would prevent her from doing anything about it.

“What is it that bothers you most about me?” DeSante asked.

Listing his deficiencies could get her killed. At least, if rumors were true. “I do not feel safe enough to honestly answer that question.”

“You are afraid of me?” He sounded surprised. Wasn’t he accustomed to fear from his countrymen?

“I am afraid of nothing. I just don’t want to disappear.” Or be murdered in her bed.

“You have nothing to fear from me. I will not hurt you. Not today and not ever. If I found out that you had been harmed, I would seek vengeance for that atrocity. A lady should never be on the receiving end of violence.”

Why did he seem sincere? Why should she believe that? Even more, why did he sound as if he were earnestly trying to convince her? “How many people have died at your hands, believing that same thing?”

“What I have done for my country is not something I am ashamed of. I have spilled soldiers’ blood, but I have done so for the greater good.”

The greater good, which had fortuitously brought him into power.

“What is most difficult is accepting that you believe I am a monster.”

He was a monster. “Do you deny subjugating your people?”

DeSante made a sound of disgust. “I deny it emphatically. If you are asking if my methods of leadership are harsh, then yes, they are. But I am not ashamed that every Icarus family has food on their table and important work that contributes to our economy.”

Iliana had heard that conditions had improved in Icarus since DeSante had come into power. She couldn’t quite accept how he had come to power, but she felt a chink in her armor.

“I want you to come to Icarus as my guest. I will show you. I will let you see with your own eyes.”

His guest? Nothing in those words was sexual and yet her heart was doing somersaults. He had been secretive with the media and yet he wanted her to visit? “No.” Her reasons for saying no were complex. She couldn’t leave Serena now. She would feel like a traitor traveling to Icarus to spend time with DeSante. Spending time with DeSante under certain conditions could bring up some emotions she didn’t want to confront.

Iliana did not have a good track record with men. She was easily seduced. DeSante could break down her defenses. Iliana knew it. She was loyal to Serena and she would remain that way.

“Perhaps you will be persuaded in the future.”

To sleep with him? She smothered her outrage, realizing he’d meant changing her mind about traveling to Icarus. Iliana pulled her emotions under control. What about this man riled her so deeply? “We will see.”

“I believed you to be an open-minded woman. Did I misjudge you?”

“Of course I’m open-minded. But I cannot travel to Icarus unless Princess Serena decides she wishes it. Did you have anything else you wanted to talk to the princess about?”

“Tell her she is contemplating marrying a cad.”

She hadn’t heard that term in years. “A cad?”

“King Warrington will not make her happy.”

“And you would?” Iliana asked, feeling a stab of jealousy at the idea of Serena dating President DeSante.

“Not at all. I am not interested in marrying the princess. My interests in her are political and professional.”

Right. Though Serena hadn’t had many boyfriends, mostly as a result of her avoiding crowds and staying away from being the center of attention, she was a beautiful, voluptuous woman. “I’m writing this down. You’re not interested in war, you don’t want Serena to marry the king and you’re interested in her. Professionally.”

“Don’t forget that last word. My personal interests lie elsewhere. Until we speak again, and I do hope that is soon, be well. Good day, Iliana.”

She hung up the phone being more turned on from one phone conversation than she had by her last boyfriend in the year they’d been together. President DeSante was the trifecta of attraction: bad boy, bad ass and far too handsome for his own good.

* * *

Serena took her guard’s hand and stepped out of the town car to catch her balance and not trip over her gown. A plane flight and a long car ride had brought her to the palace of Rizari, King Warrington’s home.

She smoothed her green dress, hoping it was appropriate for the evening’s events. Iliana had helped her select it and yet Serena was a bundle of nerves about the entire visit, including what she was wearing. This was not where she shone. She was not great at small talk and mingling, and preferred to stay on the outskirts of a crowd and watch. Or better yet, to sketch or paint from a safe distance. Even hiding behind a camera had a certain appeal.

Before her father’s birthday party, Serena had not been to a formal occasion in years, avoiding them with carefully constructed excuses. Grief knotted in her stomach and she blinked away tears. How she wished her father and her sister were still alive!

“Your Grace?” her guard asked.

Serena realized she had been standing rooted in the same place, looking up at the palace. It was a breathtaking display of architecture and design. When Samuel had inherited the throne after the untimely death of his uncle, he had put energy and resources into renovating the two-hundred-year-old structure. The effort showed.

“I’m fine.” Her guards flanked her and she took the stairs to the front door. It opened and she was escorted inside.

She had always believed her castle to be ornate, but the palace of Rizari made Acacia’s royal home look like a straw hut.

This was her first date with King Warrington, although she wasn’t sure if he would consider it a date. Officially, it was a dinner party with members of the royal social circle, some whom she knew by name and others not at all.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she was escorted by King Warrington’s butler and her guards into the dining room. She was almost used to having her guards so close, but in her home, they didn’t hover over her as they did in public.

Serena scanned the room for an inconspicuous place to sit or stand, as was her usual technique when being in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes landed on a man across the room and her breath caught in her throat.

“Your Grace, may I offer you a drink?”

She held up her hand to decline, vaguely aware that she may have been rude, but she was impossibly fixated on one person. The man who had saved her life. As she crossed the room, she realized she could be mistaken. She could be imagining him. Thinking of him so often had a strange effect on her. She found herself almost subconsciously looking for him everywhere she traveled.

When she was a few feet from him, he took a sip of his drink and then turned his head toward her. Their eyes connected. She remembered those kind eyes, eyes of strength and compassion.

“Is it you?” she asked.

“Your Grace.” He bowed to her.

“What is your name?” She had to know before he disappeared again. A swell of emotion and questions rose up inside her.

“Casimir Cullen.”

Casimir. A regal name. His voice set off a sensation in her stomach, and excitement spiraled throughout her body. “Do you remember...” She didn’t know how to finish her thought. He had to remember that night. Anyone who had lived through it would have it seared into their memory.

She had thought, upon their reunion, her protector would grab her, hug her to him, and now she realized, she had pictured him kissing her, banding his arms around her and making her feel safe for the first time in weeks.

“I remember.”

She would have to settle for being the target of his warm, intense gaze. But the effect was much the same. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

He inclined his head and Serena glanced at the person he had been speaking to. More specifically, the woman he had been speaking to. This was the king’s dinner party. Was Casimir here with his wife? Why did that thought devastate her? Her entire being should be focused on grieving for her father and sister, and trying to wrap her arms around the tremendous tasks ahead of her. Yet part of her clung to Casimir as being something bright and good in her future. It was presumptuous of her to think they had a future.

“That night was difficult. I have been traveling, trying to clear my head,” he said.