Pretender to the Throne

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE

“EITHER DIE OR abdicate. I’m not particular about which one you choose, but you’d better make a decision, and quickly.”

Alexander Drakos, heir to the throne of Kyonos, dissolute rake and frequent gambler, took a drag on his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray and dropping his cards onto the velvet-covered table.

“I’m a little busy right now, Stavros,” he said into his phone.

“Doing what? Throwing away your fortune and drinking yourself into a stupor?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t drink when I gamble. I don’t lose, either.” He eyed the men sitting around the table and pushed a pile of chips into the pot.

“A shame. If you did, then maybe you would have had to come home a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seemed to need me.”

It was time for the cards to go down, and those who hadn’t folded earlier on in the round put their hands face up.

Xander laughed and revealed his royal flush before leaning in and sweeping the chips into his stack. “I’m cashing out,” he said, standing and putting his chips into a velvet bag. “Enjoy your evening.” He took his black suit jacket off the back of the chair and slung it over his shoulder.

He passed a casino employee and dropped the bag into the man’s hands. “I know how much is in there. Cash me out. Five percent for you, no more.”

He stopped at the bar. “Scotch. Neat.”

“I thought you didn’t drink while you gambled,” his brother said.

“I’m not gambling anymore.” The bartender pushed the glass his way and Xander knocked it back before continuing out of the building and onto one of Monaco’s crowded streets.

Strange. The alcohol barely burned anymore. It didn’t make him feel good, either. Stupid alcohol.

“Where are you?”

“Monaco. Yesterday I was in France. I think that was yesterday. It all sort of blurs together, you know?”

“You make me feel old, Xander, and I am your younger brother.”

“You sound old, Stavros.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t have the luxury of running out on my responsibilities. That was your course of action and that meant someone had to stay behind and be a grown-up.”

He remembered well what had happened the day he’d taken that luxury. Running out on his responsibilities, as Stavros called it.

You killed her. This is your fault. You’ve stolen something from this country, from me. You can never replace it. I will never forgive you.

Damn.

Now that that memory had surfaced another shot or four would be required.

“I’m sure the people will build a statue in your honor someday and it will all be worth it,” Xander said.

“I didn’t call to engage in small talk with you. I would rather strangle myself with my own necktie.”

Xander stopped walking, ignoring the woman who ran into him thanks to his sudden action. “What did you call about then?”

“Dad had a stroke. It’s very likely he’s dying. And you are the next in line for the throne. Unless you abdicate, and I mean really, finally, abdicate. Or you know, chain a concrete ball to your neck and hurl yourself into the sea, I won’t mourn you.”

“I would think you’d be happy for me to abdicate,” Xander said, ignoring the tightness in his chest. He hated death. Hated its suddenness. Its lack of discrimination.

If death had any courtesy at all, it would have come for him a long time ago. Hell, he’d been baiting it for years.

Instead, it went after the lovely and needed. The ones who actually made a difference to the world rather than those who left nothing but brimstone and scorch marks in their wake.

“I have no desire to be king, but make no mistake, I will. The issue, of course, lies in the production of heirs. As happy as Jessica and I are with our children, they are not eligible to take the throne. Adoption is good enough for us, but not sufficient per the laws of Kyonos.”

“That leaves...Eva.”

“Yes,” Stavros said. “It does. And if you hadn’t heard, she is pregnant.”

“And how does she feel? About her child being the heir?”

“She hates it. She and Mak don’t even live in Kyonos and they’d have to uproot their lives so their child could be raised in the palace, so he or she could learn their duty. It would change everything. It was never meant to be this way for her and you know it.”

Xander closed his eyes and pictured his wild, dark-haired sister. Yes, she would hate it. Because she’d always hated royal protocol. As he had.

He’d taken her mother from her. Could he rob her of the rest of her dreams, too?

“Whatever you decide, Xander, decide quickly. I would ask that you do so in two days’ time,” Stavros continued, “but if you want my opinion...”

“I don’t.” He hung the phone up and stuffed it into his pocket.

Then he walked toward the dock. And he wondered where he might find a concrete ball.

* * *

Layna Xenakos dismounted and patted her horse on the neck. Layna was sweaty and sticky, and the simple, long-sleeved shift she was wearing didn’t do very much to diffuse the heat.