“Did you say something?”
Tia dragged her eyes away from the prancing beast in front of her and back to its owner-slash-her-unlikely-rescuer, forcing the foggy cloud in her brain to move.
Had she said something? Oh God, she couldn’t remember. The hair from the wig fluttered in front of her face as she shook her head.
“In that case, let’s go.” He turned sharply away from her as the horse trotted closer, and she saw Damon’s lips lift into a wide smile as the horse greeted him in soft whinnies as if it couldn’t believe its luck that they were reunited once again.
Tia’s heart squeezed tightly at the gentle interplay between owner and beast, and unbidden memories of her own mare, Calypso, came flooding back. If only she had lived. If only her father had let her.
Tears stung her eyes, and Tia pushed her finger gently beneath them, forcing the tears back. The soft material of Damon’s jumper scraped her cheek, and she sniffed loudly, pushing the material up to her elbows. She did not have time for memories. She had used all that time up while she had been in hospital. Now was the time for the present, not the past, and currently her present was staring her in the face, holding on to a stirrup. Oh dear.
Tia coughed loudly. “Mr. Anastos . . . ” What could she say? Sorry, Damon, but I can’t ride that horse. I haven’t ridden in ten years, and the last time I rode, my older brother died and I was left unable to walk for months. Like she could tell him that. Like she could ever tell anyone that. Even the press had received the abbreviated version. She shook her head and pressed her lips together.
“Tia?”
Goose bumps shimmied up and down her arms at her name on his lips. She had never heard it sound that way before, and she must have heard it a thousand times. It was as hard as toffee and as soft as caramel. Both her favorite sweets. Darn it!
“Mr. Anastos, isn’t there another mode of transport?” She swallowed back the tremble. If she was lucky, he was still too absorbed in his horse to hear it.
“Sadly, I left my helicopter at home.” Sarcasm dripped from him like honey from a beehive.
Well! That was just charming. “There is no need for unhelpful comments like that. I was merely asking a question. But I must tell you that I cannot, I mean will not, ride on a horse to your farm. I am sorry, but there must be another way.”
There, that didn’t sound panicked did it? It didn’t betray the fact that a large shot of cortisol was now working its way around her body at lightning speed as she tried to figure out the best way to fight or fly from this situation.
“There is.”
“I thought there had to be, so what—”
“Walk.”
“I beg your pardon?” Tia blinked slowly. Had he just said . . . ?
“Walk. You know, what they used to do before cars were invented. That is the other option.”
No, she hadn’t been mistaken. Or delusional. Or both.
“Yes, I know what walk means but . . . but.” She stopped, forcing her mind into some sort of coherence and sucked in a breath. Okay, time to start over. “What about simply calling someone for help?”
His hands stilled on the stirrup, and Tia narrowed her eyes. He hadn’t suggested calling for help earlier, and he did not appear to be reaching for his phone even though she pointed it out. That could only mean . . . “You do not have your mobile either do you?” Why, the hypocritical—!
“Unlike you, who obviously planned your journey without a phone, I had not planned to find someone on my farm who would need help that required me to carry my phone!”
“But you said you were here to sort something out, and suppose something had gone wrong. Then what? How would you have gotten help yourself?” Aha, that got him! She pushed back the urge to fist pump the air and pushed her hands against her sides as he glanced over his shoulder toward her.
“Kronos would have gone back to the stables, and a horse without a rider, especially one that had had a rider on him, would arouse enough suspicion that someone would have come looking for me,” he said slowly, as if explaining something trivial to a child. “But I’m curious. What did you mean when you said you cannot go on Kronos?” His voice was suddenly soft, his hands carrying on their motion up and down the stirrups. It was the same soothing tone he had used on Kronos when the horse first appeared. It was calming, yes, but almost a “lull and relax her into a sense of false security” kind of way.
Tia balled her hands into fists. Well, she was not prepared to be lulled or relaxed in any way, shape, or form, thank you very much. She was on a mission and she had only two weeks before her “get out of the palace free” pass was up. Otherwise known as, her parents discovering she was not on the skiing trip she led them to believe she was on. “I said will not.”
“Not initially. You said cannot. And if I am to help you, then I would like to know why.” The soothing tone was gone. Instead, his voice was low and determined. It was a tone no one would dream to argue with. Sadly for him, she wasn’t no one, and that was a horse, and this just could not happen. “Kronos is a gentle, reliable gelding. Don’t be scared off riding him by his appearance.” He carried on at her silence.
“Scared? Who said anything about being scared to ride?” Scared was too mild to describe the jellylike feeling in her legs and the racing of her heart. The question was, how had he seen that? Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could still feel the bones in her pelvis crunch when her favorite horse, Calypso, landed on her. She could hear the screams of her brother as he called for help, as he called to her, and Calypso’s whinnies as she tried to scramble off her. And then the sight of her older brother, unmoving only a few feet away. Not that she was scared off horses: she loved seeing her brother’s racers in action. Only riding them proved a problem.
“Good, because we need Kronos to get back. And FYI, you still haven’t answered my question.” His matter-of-fact tone made her want to scream. She hadn’t been on a horse in more than ten years. Maybe her irrational fear of them was gone, but that didn’t stop her heart from hammering every time she thought of getting back on one. And she had tried; God knows she had tried.
“I just do not ride horses.” Tia folded her arms in front of her as he turned toward her, the reins from the horse’s bridle hanging loosely in his hands. “If you want to ride, then be my guest and I will”—she blew out a steadying breath—“follow you and walk.”
• • •
Crickets chirped loudly around them, highlighting the deafening silence, and Damon forced his gaze back to Kronos and ran his hand across his smooth coat. She just didn’t ride? That didn’t make any sense. Why would Phillipe send someone to be a honey trap if she didn’t share any of his interests?
He flicked a quick glance back to her. Okay, so she looked kind of cute in his oversized jumper. But just because that made his blood pulse around his body at a faster rate than normal and the hairs on his body stand on end as if he had rubbed them with a balloon, it didn’t mean his brain had to follow. Thee mou, he was acting like some kind of teenager.
There was something strange about Tia Liakos, and he was going to find out what it was. If Phillipe thought he was going to have the upper hand in this play, he had another thing coming. Tia may be—hell, was definitely—lying to him about something. His father had lied to his mother about coming back to her, and his mother had lied—okay, not lied but omitted the truth—to him about who his real father was. Omitted the truth at the age an angry teenage boy needed to know who he was and where he belonged. Had he known then what he knew now, he wasn’t so sure he would have wanted to know. That he was nothing more than a royal bastard sat like a bitter pill in his mouth, one he couldn’t spit out or even swallow.
Kronos’s soft whinny dragged him back from his dark thoughts about his father, and Damon scraped his teeth over his tongue. Even thinking the word “father” in association with that man left a bitter taste in his mouth. He did not have time for liars. However . . . what was that phrase his grandfather used to say? “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer” or something like that.
“Whatever the lady wants, Miss Liakos. Walk it is.” He twisted the lead rein around his hand and turned back to his “guest.” “It’s this way.” He flicked his free hand in front of him into the gathering dark and pressed his back against Kronos as she marched past, the sound of a small huff escaping her lips. His nose twitched at the delicate smell of roses, and his brows drew together. There were no roses in this field. That could only mean it was her.
Kronos’s lead rein pulled on his hand as the horse jerked forward, only to stop and whinny softly at Damon. It was either a complaint that he was missing out on his evening hell-for-leather gallop, or like his owner, he wanted to be back at the stables ASAP and away from whatever situation this was spiraling into. “Shh now. It’ll be all right. There’s nothing to fear. Calm down,” Damon whispered.
“Thank you, but I am calm.” Her factual, no nonsense tone made his lips curl into a smile.
“I was talking to the horse.”
Her low chuckle sounded devoid of any warmth. “You sound just like . . . someone I used to know who puts horses above everyone else.”
Someone or some man? The words lingered on his tongue like a high diver getting ready to jump. It was none of his business, so why was he even curious? Besides, she was right about one thing. Horses did come first. If he planned to make a success of his business, he needed the money from his racehorses to do it. That is, if his “father” didn’t sabotage him first.
The rays from the moon highlighted Tia as she walked in front of him. It was . . . regal was the only word he could think of. Even in the loose clothing, he got the impression, her back was straight and her shoulders were back. She was tall for a woman. Not as tall as him, but then at six foot four, few people were. His mother told him he had inherited his height from his father. It was not something he could be proud of.
“That makes sense. Horses deserve more time than most people.” The words “They aren’t out for anything” hovered on his lips, and he shut them firmly. Phillipe clearly knew his stables were his Achilles heel. There was no need to give away any more information than he needed to.
“Funny. That’s exactly what they would have said as well.”
A generic “they.” Interesting.
“Mr. Anastos, are you coming?” she carried on, flicking a glance over her shoulder.
Damon curled his hand tighter into the leather reins, ignoring the pain as they cut into his hand. “Certainly, your highness.” Why hadn’t he though to bring a jacket as well as a jumper? God, he hoped she couldn’t hear the tremble in his voice.
A small cough brought his senses back to the here and now, and he sucked in a small breath.
Small talk. He could sense it coming. He hated small talk.
“Why do you say that? And in that tone?”
Huh? “You’ll have to be more specific, princess.”
“That, right there! The princess thing and the highness thing.” She whirled sharply, and he winced as her finger careered into his chest, sending goose pimples rising along his skin from his head to his toes.
He hadn’t realized she was so close. “Maybe because you sound like someone who is used to giving orders to the little people such as myself.” Damn. He hadn’t meant it to come out so—sharp. It was a joke. Okay, partly a joke. He had no idea who she really was, and she didn’t look like the pictures of Phillipe’s daughter, his recently discovered half sister, the princess Adelle.
Her small humph accompanied by Kronos’s soft neigh of almost disapproval made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. Whose side was the horse on anyway?
“I never said you were a little person. That is your inferiority complex. And as for royalty talking to anyone like that, well, that is absurd. Have you ever spoken to a member of the royal household? How do you know what they are even like?”
The smell of roses dragged on his senses, pulling him and calling to him like a drug. How come she could make him so riled and yet so—no, he wasn’t turned on. Damon shook his head hard. That would be beyond stupid!
“I haven’t and I don’t. Happy now? Let’s get back to the house. The quicker your car is fixed, the quicker you can get to Arios.”
“Fine by me, but you have not answered my first question.” Her breath puffed lightly from her lips and moved softly over his skin, and he took a few steps back, knocking into Kronos, who, he could tell from the dip of the lead rein, had now given up watching the dueling humans and contented himself with the cool grass.
“There were so many I forgot which one was the first.”
“Why do you talk of them in that tone? What have they ever done to you?”
His ears pricked up. Was that . . . a slight wobble to her voice? He couldn’t be sure thanks to the loud crickets. “Which royal family are we talking about?”
“Um, the House of Helios. The royal family of Kephelai. Which royal family were you talking about?” Her voice had lowered, and the wobble had been replaced by something that sounded eerily familiar: suspicion. He lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why had he let that comment slip? Damn.
“Look. As far as I am concerned, just because someone is born into a family that has titles and acres, it does not give them the right to automatically do as they please. Does that answer your question?”
He clucked his tongue to get Kronos’s attention and pulled gently on the lead rein before stomping past her. Whether it answered her question or not, he was done talking about this. Why did he even explain himself to her? He never explained himself to anyone, period. Okay so this may have gotten him in trouble over the years, but it was his strategy, and since he trusted few, it worked for him.
The crickets were louder than usual. That, or he’d never stopped to listen to them since the death of his mother. Maybe not even then. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d never had anyone to share the sound with—unlike now. Images of the women he’d been with flashed briefly through his mind. They each knew what was on the table, sex, and what was off it, commitment.
She hadn’t said anything. Hell, if it weren’t for her soft breaths behind him, he’d think she’d disappeared. “Not much farther.” Why had he said that? She could probably tell from the lights in the distance they were near the house.
“Thank you. I am most obliged for your generosity.” Her tone was as crisp as the oncoming night air.
If he were near a door, he’d slam it. Hard. “A gentleman is a gentle man, Damon. In words and in deeds.” His mother’s words nipped at his heels. Why did he have to remember that saying now of all times? Had that been his father’s mask—being a gentleman in flowery words and deeds, saying he’d come back? But he never did and never planned to.
“Anything to help. You know there is a phrase that sums this up.” He lifted one hand into the air to draw a large circle, flicking a quick look over his shoulder despite already hearing the faint rustle of her boots against the dirt. “If you don’t want to do the time, then you shouldn’t do the crime.”
He could sense, rather than see, the sharpness of her gaze boring holes in his back. Good, she was riled. He preferred her riled instead of silent, and when riled, people more often than not spoke the truth. Now to see what hers was.
• • •
“Crime? I beg your pardon?” The words tripped quickly off her tongue like children let out of school early for the summer break, and Tia rubbed her head and the throbbing vein that her mother had always told her was an unfortunate feature that stood out when she was angry. Sadly for her parents and annoyingly for her, it had stumbled onto the female line only.
“Yes, you know. If you can’t stand the heat, then stay out of the kitchen.”
Her scalp tingled from the beads of sweat forming beneath her wig, and she reached up to itch under it, her natural golden hair soft to her fingertips. What would he say if she just whipped the wig off and revealed who she was? She bet 100 euros he would not be as smug as he was now.
Grrrr. She couldn’t let him get to her. She was the sensible twin, the one who always thought before she acted or even spoke. All the hijinks were left to Bastian.
“Did you swallow a phrase book, or do you always quote meaningless phrases in situations that require seriousness?”
Ha! That got his attention. Her feet ground to a halt in the dirt as he and his horse stopped short. Bright lights twinkled overhead, and she narrowed her eyes as shadows and images of nearby fenced paddocks and stalls came into view.
Stables. They were at a stable. This wasn’t a farm at all!
His shoulders slumped slightly before he straightened, and he turned slowly towards her, his eyes hidden in the shadows. Her heart flip-flopped heavily in her chest, and she swallowed the potpourri-style dryness in her throat.
“Is this a serious situation Tia?”
“Well . . . I, uh . . . ” Tia swallowed heavily. Where were her words? She had told her father that she did not need a press secretary to write her speeches, and now look at her—speechless. She nodded quickly. What she could not make up in words, she could make up for in mime.
“Is it serious to waste precious moments on a family who have no knowledge of my existence and, even if they did, would rather walk on past me than acknowledge me?”
“But—” Tia opened her mouth, letting the one word fall out, only to close it again as he sucked in a deep breath, carrying on as if she had never spoken.
“That is what I meant, Tia. If you don’t like the answer, then think of another question.”
Dust rose from the floor as he swirled a perfect 180 and marched away from her, the sounds of whinnies from the other stalls reaching her ears over the night air.
She curled her hands into fists and dug them into her sides. This was why she had wanted to go to Arios. This. To find out what people really thought of her family and avoid her family being made into an elective monarchy like that of her former fiancé and his country of Montcroix. Her parents did not believe her, but she had seen the literature extolling the virtues of a republic.
For crying out loud! She could even have fallen into the heart of the pro-republic camp without realizing. Her feet froze, and the hairs on her neck rose up at the idea.
“I will put Kronos away, and then I will call the tow company. Stay here.” His tone was final, and it was on the tip of her tongue to make a point and ask who was now giving the orders. Well, she would have said something if he hadn’t disappeared so fast.
Wrapping her arms around her, she breathed out deeply. What would Geo have done? She bit back a wry smile as she imagined what her younger-by-mere-minutes twin brother would have done. Probably what she had, only ten times worse. But it was not Bastion that she was sure her parents, indeed maybe even the very country, compared her to. It was Geo. It was fine when he had been alive, and she had been content to tinker in the schoolroom with her computers and websites, engaged in the activities her parents deemed were not suitable for a princess. She had been protected and safe. No one had told her in her security of youth that one day she would have to step up and become queen.
No one had—
Tia jumped back as something soft and downy nuzzled her arm, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to swallow back a scream. She blinked as an overhead light flickered on slowly, and her eyes widened at the sight of the cream-coloured horse next to her who slowly blinked back before nuzzling at her jumper once again.
Relief bubbled through her, and she chucked softly. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or just rob me, eh?” She asked the doe-eyed creature and reached out, rubbing her hand along the long neck of the horse.
“What do they call you then? Greedy?” She chuckled again as the horse nuzzled its nose farther into her hand, and she stepped back and peered at the name underneath. “Hermes Olympus and . . . ” Her feet kicked up the surrounding dust as she shuffled across to the next stall only to be greeted by a grey, cotton-soft nose. “Gaia Olympus. Olympus. You are all Olympians. Your daddy gave you some clever surnames.”
“Thanks.”
Her scalp prickled at the sound of his voice, and she forced herself to stare at the horse as the words “rebel” and “republic” danced through her brain like the ballet dancers she had seen in London’s Covent Garden. She should not be afraid. After all, this was what she wanted, to know the truth. Okay so it was one man’s opinion, but it only took one bullet right? Besides, once Damon learned about her plan to modernize and the way she would implement it, it would surely make the monarchy more popular. It was what Geo would have done if he had been king-in-waiting. In fact, it was better than what he would have done.
“You don’t seem surprised by their surnames,” he carried on, lifting his fingers into air quotes around “surname.”
“Should I be? I think it’s a clever ploy. When the horses are racing, it lets the crowd know instantly which breeder the horse is from so they can always bet on that breeder’s horses.”
“You seem to know a lot about racers.” He lifted his hand and stroked along the grey’s nose, leaning in and examining her ears.
“My br— my friend has an interest in racers, so I hear things.” That was close. She almost let the term “brother” slip out. She could feel his eyes on her. There was only one thing to do in this situation. Change the subject. “So who is your trainer?”
She stopped suddenly at the sound of footsteps, and her eyes widened as a woman no older than she was, with the curves she wished she’d been blessed with and large, Bambi-brown eyes, ran towards them.
“What is the problem, Alena?” His voice softened instantly, and Tia leaned forward, any thoughts about trainers disappearing. Who was this woman?
“Damon, I’m so glad you’re back! The vet is not answering his phone. Rafe has gone to fetch him but . . . ” Her hand waved in the air to some stalls in the distance, and Tia’s heart tightened at her next words. “Persephone is having difficulty, and the foal is in trouble!”