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How majestic this country was! Hot, yes, but in a way that had sparked life and enthusiasm back into Chloe’s blood. Without realizing it, she’d fallen asleep sometime during her teenage years, or perhaps she’d intentionally taught herself to be numb, to hold her heart tight, to avoid the pain that her father’s rejection inevitably inflicted.
Perhaps she’d taught herself to be numb to the pain that was endemic to the sight of her father with her half-brother – with whom he was always welcoming, warm and proud. To see them together was to see an example of what a healthy parental relationship should have been.
Yet with Chloe, the old man had barely acknowledged her. And when he had, it had been to commodify her in some way or other, to try to stick her into one of the pigeon holes he thought right. Was she excelling at school in any way? Was she smart enough for him to be proud of her? Was her wit as quick as Apollo’s? Might she be an asset to the business in the way Apollo had been?
No. Chloe was intelligent, but not given to academics, and mild dyslexia that had gone undiagnosed until her teenage years had meant she was almost too far behind to start trying in high school.
Was she beautiful, then? Beautiful enough to be sought after by men who her father might at least admire?
No. At least, she hadn’t been for many years. A gawky teenager who was as flat as a board long after her friends had started to grow curves and shoot up, she’d been mistaken for a child when she was almost able to obtain her drivers’ license.
Chloe had nothing that her father had seen as meritorious – even the blood in her veins, that was half-his, had not been enough to redeem her.
And how she’d loved him anyway! How she’d adored reading about his business successes, seeing his name and image in the papers, knowing him to be someone of such incredible repute! How she’d longed for his approval, his affection.
She could still remember the day he’d called her – it was only the second time he’d done any such thing and the first had been to tell her that her mother was dead.
That had been a stilted, short conversation. Going through the motions – his offer for her to move to Greece, her demur, his obvious relief.
So when he called her for the second time in her life, she felt a heavy sense of worry – naturally her mind had gone to Apollo. But Apollo was fine. The old man had been calling with good news, he’d promised. “Malik has begged me to grant his son your hand in marriage.”
She’d been floored – and had asked a lot of bumbling questions about her potential groom. Though she’d visited Ras el Kida several times, as Malik’s guest, she’d never met his son. The idea was almost impossible to credit, except she remembered Apollo telling her, at some point, that Raffa was required to marry – and to marry well.
Chloe had been given a classical education, despite the fact she’d not excelled at it. She spoke several languages, and had been sent to finishing school in Switzerland at her father’s insistence. Had he known, even then, that she would marry a King?
When Chloe had agreed, she’d wanted only one thing from her father: his love. All of it. She’d wanted him to wrap her in a hug and tell her he was proud of her.
He’d died before he’d had the chance – and now, she had gained a fresh perspective.
Her father would not have been proud of her.
Her father would not have said he loved her.
Because he hadn’t.
On some level, she supposed she should have been grateful that he at least acknowledged her to be his child: something her own husband wasn’t willing to do for his lovechild.
Anger and anticipation were at war within her system! She didn’t know how to feel! Chloe was at sea, and it was rolling and shifting, splashing her with new sensations and doubts even when her decision had been made.
Her ladies’ maids didn’t share her sense of emotional ambiguity. When they entered her suite shortly after a light breakfast of fruit and sweet pastry had been served, they brought with them an air of unmistakable exuberance.
All traditions were strictly adhered to at the palace; far more so than had been the case in the city. There, she had been free to dress in casual clothes if she’d wanted to, so long as she wasn’t taking part in any official duties. Her maids dressed her in one of the gowns that was required – an emerald green with diamonds at the collar and cuff – and then excused themselves with low bows that almost hid their twitching smiles.
“Okay, Aysha,” she asked her chief lady in waiting, once they were alone. “What is it? What are you all smiling about?”
Aysha didn’t bother to obfuscate.
“They are happy to be home, your highness.”
Chloe was thunderstruck. “Home? This is their home?”
“Well, yes. Naturally.”
“Not, ‘naturally’!” Chloe disputed with a shake of her head. “You mean the palace is where they lived? And then I made everyone move to the city just because I didn’t want to be here?”
“Our job is to be where you are,” Aysha pointed out kindly. “If you choose to take part in the Mars program, I’m afraid we would have to take our positions on the rocket alongside you.”
Chloe laughed but it was a noise of brittle exhaustion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
