The Goddess (18 page)

Chapter Seventeen

When Helene saw Tahlia rushing down the garden path with that river of glossy dark
hair flowing behind her, she willed away the sick feeling churning in her stomach.

“Darius just told me,” Tahlia called before she’d stopped. “You’re leaving? For how
long? What about the baby?”

While Helene swallowed against the ache in her throat, trying to find answers to impossible
questions, Tahlia went on.

“Darius is worried. Looking at you now, so am I.” Tahlia took her hands. “What happened?”

“I just need to go home for a while. Let my friends and mother know I’m still alive.
Let them know what’s happened.”

Of course, that wasn’t all. Helene wanted to explain to Tahlia how she felt responsible
for putting Darius under so much pressure. Her mother had implied more than once that
she attracted trouble. More and more, she felt like Darius’s giant bad luck charm.

She was about to ask Tahlia to come see her off at the dock later that day when she
saw someone waiting a short distance away. Darius stood outside the gilded pavilion
where they’d enjoyed a late breakfast many mornings. He looked so tall and darkly
handsome. Her cheeks flushed and heart sank thinking of all the beautiful moments
they’d shared wrapped in each other’s arms.

But Darius had only proposed because of the baby she carried. If she were to slip
out of his life, rather than distance making the heart grow fonder, the miles apart
might make him realize he could shake her off. He didn’t need to marry her.

She would never keep a child from his father. A shared custody could be worked out.
Not ideal but perhaps better than tying Darius to a person who would constantly cause
him grief, however unintentional. Besides, as wonderful as her time here had been,
she missed her home: the shops and people and food. She even missed her mother.

And, damn it, she’d always vowed never to marry unless the relationship was cemented
in love and trust. Darius had never said that he loved her. And standing here now,
watching his shoulders roll as he sauntered over, looking so sexy and strong, so worldly
and simply wonderful, she felt a fool that a part of her had held out and hoped that
he would.

Tahlia glanced over a shoulder and saw her brother, too. “He spoke with Otis, you
know. He said he’s fine with us going on vacation together. Otis said he really seemed
to mean it. But he never would have accepted us being together if he hadn’t met you.”

With that lump in her throat growing, Helene hugged her friend before Tahlia left
and Darius joined her.

A sea breeze tugged at his hair, and his eyes—black diamonds glittering in the sunshine—appeared
devoid of emotion. Helene sensed the trip-wire tension ripping beneath the surface.
If he thought pressuring her to stay would work, he was mistaken. She might feel as
if she was breaking inside but, for a dozen reasons, her mind was made up.

“Did you meet your uncle?” she asked in a remarkably steady voice.

He nodded. “Galen came back to make amends. Seems he hasn’t got long to live.”

Helene’s chest tightened. That news fit with why Galen pushed his visit forward. She
could imagine how distraught his poor wife must be. She wanted to ask how long Galen
was staying, whether anyone had recognized him, but she couldn’t think straight.

Darius simply looked at her, drinking in every plane and curve of her face, which
made her prickle and tingle all over. It made her want to change her mind about going.
But she wouldn’t. She
couldn’t
.

“I’m leaving late this afternoon,” she said. When his eyes darkened, she took a breath
and, as difficult as it was, went on. “I’d rather you didn’t see me off.”

“You want us to say good-bye here? Now?”

Her thumping heartbeat pushed against her ribs. She ached to say yes and have him
kiss her deeply and then murmur against her ear that he’d miss her. She longed to
feel his hard, strong body pressed up against her. But that would be unwise. It was
better they didn’t touch at all.

She said, “I’ll come by before I leave.”

He sucked down a breath. Even smiled. “I have a gift for you. It’s back at the pavilion.”

If it was a ring, Helene couldn’t accept it. Still, he’d taken her news well and,
God help her, she wanted a few minutes longer with him, so she followed him through
the gardens a final time.

As they moved inside of the pavilion and Darius crouched to recover something off
the floor, Helene wondered again what the gift could be. When her gaze landed on what
he held out, she shook her head, dumbfounded.

Not possible.

She’d seen it with her own eyes—the figurine had been smashed. Nothing had been left
but chunks of rock and rubble.

“This is a replica,” she decided. Like the ones sold at markets.

“The figurine we brought back from the other island, the one destroyed last night,
was the fake. Apparently the long line of Chief Aides has kept this, the real goddess,
safe under their personal lock and key.”

Her mind spun. It couldn’t be. The real figurine was safe?

“I’ve spoken with Yanni,” Darius went on. “We’ve decided to take your advice. As soon
as it’s finished, she’ll have her own special room with a glass viewing panel so that
people can visit and see her for themselves.”

Helene coughed out a laugh. She wanted to throw her arms around Darius but she was
afraid she might make him drop the true treasure he held, so, instead she found her
voice along with a trembling smile.

“You’re going to make a great king.”

“I’d rather make a great husband.”

Those words stole her breath. He didn’t let her recover. The shocks kept right on
coming.

“I know you think you’re all thumbs,” he said. “That maybe I’m worried what you might
fumble next. But as far as I’m concerned, everything you’ve touched is gold. If I
hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t feel so sure about my future here. I wouldn’t feel so lucky
to have found you. To have found…”

“Your Highness!”

Helene spun toward the cry. Yanni barreled over. His face was ashen.

“People are gathering outside the gates. News has spread. Pamphlets are circulating.
It’s been on the radio, on television.”

While Helene’s mind leaped to earthquake, war, tidal wave, Darius stepped forward.
“What’s happened?”

“Someone learned about that other figurine. That it was brought back from the island.
That it was destroyed. They’re saying…”

When his gaze dropped, Darius prodded.

“What are they saying?”

“That a foreigner, a woman, broke it into a million pieces.”

Darius’s voice was firm. “What else?”

“They say you are bewitched. That she tricked you into a marriage proposal.” Yanni’s
complexion turned white when he ground out the words. “They’re accusing her of carrying
another man’s child.”

Darius handed the figurine to Yanni and charged off. Her legs heavy as lead pipes,
Helene trailed behind.

“How many are outside the gates?” Darius asked Yanni as they strode.

“The number grows by the minute.”

“Any signs of violence? Weapons?”

“Not yet. The helicopter’s prepared.” Yanni scrambled to keep up with the prince’s
long strides. “If they don’t disperse, we shouldn’t take any chances.”

“The guard?”

“Are at the gates and surround the perimeter of the palace. One last thing… A photo
accompanies the articles. A picture of you and your uncle taken this morning at the
taverna in town.”

Helene lost her step. “At Alexio’s?”

Nausea rose in her chest, in her throat. Suddenly everything Darius warned her about
had become reality. Unrest rising in the city. Superstition taking the place of common
sense. Her mother had cautioned that she should keep in mind that while other countries
might appear exotic and exciting, they had their own rules and ways of handling problems.
It seemed she was the problem now.

They traveled up to the second story to a room with a balcony overlooking the front
grounds and gate. While Darius strode out to hold onto the railing and take in the
scene, Helene hung back with Yanni. She felt cold all over, as if she’d stepped into
some bizarre, otherworld reality. She was the cause of all this anger and fear. This
couldn’t be happening.

Noise was swelling. People called out. Occasionally a woman wailed. Helene wanted
to rush out and set them all straight. The goddess was safe; soon they would see for
themselves. And while Darius had proposed to her, she wasn’t carrying another man’s
child. And even if she was, was that a reason to start a riot?

But her thoughts reeled back to that hand-written story…to how that crowd hadn’t wanted
to listen. A feeling of dread swept her, leaving her dizzy and sick. The royal guard
wouldn’t let anyone slip through. Surely the police would be here soon.

A man appeared beside her whom Yanni immediately recognized. The Chief Aide bowed.

“Your Highness.”

The man touched Yanni’s shoulder. “Hello, old friend.” Then he gazed out over the
disturbance outside while Yanni filled him in.

His face lined with concern, the man looked to her. “You must be Helene. I am Darius’s
uncle Galen.”

Galen radiated an air of calm even in these circumstances. When he squeezed her hand,
she instantly felt reassured, perhaps because Darius’s uncle also knew how it felt
to be the reason behind this kind of unrest.

…

Darius returned from the balcony. He acknowledged his uncle then spoke to Yanni. “The
police?”

“Some units are out there now, trying to disperse the most vocal.”

“But they’ll only come back,” Darius surmised.

Galen added, “And they’ll be angrier. More organized.”

Darius’s pensive look evaporated into decision. “I’ll speak to them.”

Holding his glasses, Yanni shook his head. “Wait ‘til it calms down.”

“This won’t wait.” Darius headed off again. “Send word to open the gates.”

Yanni called after him. “I advise against it. You should leave.”

Stopping at the door, Darius spun around. “If I fly out of here now, how will I ever
return? I’ll be seen as a coward, as a push over. As if I’m guilty. But if I make
a stand and give them the truth—”

“Someone will have a gun,” Yanni pressed.

Galen indicated Helene. “Take her, Darius, and get out of here.”

Darius froze for an instant before clamping shut his eyes. When he opened them, he
looked to Helene and searched her face as if it held some magical answer.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

Helene felt the blood drain to her feet. She wasn’t qualified to offer an opinion.
She was the cause of this all. But she was also carrying his baby. Above all else,
her responsibility lay with protecting their unborn child. Darius would know that,
too.

Darius went on, his eyes pleading. “If you think we should leave, we’ll leave. We’ll
go now.”

The din had grown louder. Outside, debris was being hurled onto the lawn, but it was
all a misunderstanding. While there was a crowd, it wasn’t the entire population—just
a segment who needed answers, and fast.

Filling her lungs, thinking of what this decision would mean to everyone involved,
she joined him. “Let’s go down.”

Darius snatched a kiss then led them all downstairs.

Wading through a sea of concerned staff—administrative and domestic—they reached the
enormous front doors. Darius moved out onto the terrace. Leaving the doors open, he
took a stand at the top of the wide arc of stairs. Helene stayed inside with Yanni
and Galen. The next moment, Tahlia was there, too.

Helene filled her friend in while Tahlia’s eyes grew wider and wider. She held Helene’s
arm.

“We don’t need to worry.” Tahlia stopped to swallow deeply, to find her courage. “Darius
will make them understand. And the guard…they won’t let anyone get hurt.”

Neither of them dared to mention how the guard in that story—in real life a hundred
years ago—had turned against those they were meant to protect.

As the palace gates swung slowly open, the crowd flooded in—mainly working-class men,
but some dressed in suits. Women were sprinkled throughout, a number of whom were
carrying children on their hips.

The guard had formed an equipped arc around the lip of the terrace and stairs. Now
Darius raised his hands to quiet the clamor.

“You’ve seen some news bulletins,” he said in a firm, loud voice, “ and read some
pamphlets. None of what you saw or read is true.”

“
She’s not pregnant?
” someone called out.

“You’re not marrying her?”
called another.

“We want to see the goddess!”
a different voice demanded, and the racket spiraled again.

Darius held up his hands a second time.

“I have proposed to this woman. And, yes, she is carrying a child. My child.”

At the front of the crowd, an arm shot up, shaking a piece of paper. Accusations flew
again.

“It says she tricked you.”

“She was on the sacred island.”

“She tried to steal our goddess.”

“She destroyed her—shattered her to bits!”

Darius shouted over the row. “The fertility figurine is here with us, just inside
those doors. A different piece was broken last night, a replica. The real goddess
has been hidden away for centuries. But now—
soon
—you’ll be able to see her any time you please.”

The crowd had quieted as they craned to see and hear. Then a skeptical voice spoke
out.

“Why should we believe you?”

“We don’t want her as our queen!”

Darius stood tall. The air seemed to ripple with the depth of his resolve. “Helene
Masters doesn’t have to be anyone’s queen,” he told them. “We can both leave now and
never come back.”

While Helene held onto Tahlia’s arm for support, the crowd gasped. Even a guard or
two turned around.

“I’ve always wanted to be a good king,” Darius went on. “I wanted to have your respect,
to give you mine. But I won’t turn my back on my family. I won’t do that for any reason.
I love Helene. We will spend the rest of our lives together whether it is here or
someplace else. We will have this child and, God willing, other children too.”