now

I didn’t sleep that night. I didn’t expect to, but it still feels bitter when it comes. The insomnia. The restless memories. The guilt. The endless chewing questions—what if what if what if.

What if I’d saved everyone in Glein?

What if I’d found ways to spare more enemies?

What if I’d kept Greer safer before Melwas took her?

And the wave of what ifs would curl and hang into the future—what if I begged Embry to come back? What if I went after Melwas right now? What if I said fuck everything and caught the next flight to Seattle to meet my son?

Then the wave would collapse and crash, sucking itself back into the past. An endless, churning cycle of doubt. I only knew one way to stay the doubt, to part the guilt and the worry like a biblical sea, and that way was lost to me. My little prince had run away, my little princess was in another city. There was no one to wrestle, no one to whip, no one to kiss. No one to shove inside of and relieve every ache.

Fuck. I needed it bad too. Those moments before Embry had told me he was leaving, his jacket crumpled in my fist, his fingers warm and probing the place I’d denied him so long…

God, what I would have given. My kingdom. My soul, just to have Embry in front of me. I’d grab that jacket again, and then I’d push him down, shove his face into the carpet. Yank down his pants. How the fuck dare he, how the fuck dare he, and I’d seethe just that into his ear as I laid my body over his. I’d pin him down with a forearm to his neck, I’d make him feel every angry pound of me. I’d fuck him right in two.

* * *

Belvedere finds me in the gym the next morning, naked to the waist and covered in sweat.

Belvedere’s in his mid-twenties, Latinx—and his floppy black hair and tight cardigans and trendy glasses betray the same level of attention he gives to style as he gives to everything else, which is part of why he makes such an excellent aide. The other part is his sheer unflappability; he makes no comment on my haggard expression or sweaty body.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” he says. I grunt in response, finishing the last four pull-ups of my set before dropping from the bar and reaching for my towel.

“We’ve got a full docket today,” he continues, unfazed. Ryan Belvedere has seen me in every mood, every state of sweat and undress, every tired, snappish moment in a rented car or in the corner of a high school gymnasium or under the baking sun at a state fair. He’s my body man, my personal aide—my valet if you care for such old-fashioned terms—and he’s awake before me and asleep after me. His job is me. To manage my travel and my appointments in conjunction with my secretary. To make sure my dry-cleaning arrives at the right hotel when I’ve got three different events in three different cities. To hand me Sharpies when I’m signing at rallies, to carry my spare ties, to answer my phone when I can’t. He’s my shadow, and after last night, he’s my most loyal friend.

Of course, Embry and I were never really friends. When we first met, he thought I was his enemy and I thought he was perfect. Then I fell in love with him, and he’s been breaking my heart ever since.

I flex my hands just once, hard enough to feel the protest of the bones and thin tendons, to remind myself that I can feel something other than this. Than him.

My little prince.

“What’s on today?” I ask, throwing the towel in a nearby basket and taking the folder Belvedere offers. Inside is my agenda for the day and several memos from my staff to review.

“Briefing from your secretary at eight thirty,” Belvedere says, taking the folder from me and handing me a bottle of water, which I gladly drink. “Then your daily security briefing with Gawayne at nine thirty. A phone call with the new UK prime minister right after, then the televised visit with the Pine Ridge high school. Merlin wants me to remind you to use it as a chance to showcase the early achievements of the reservation infrastructure bill you spearheaded last year.”

Merlin. Another open wound that needs triaged today. I cap the now-empty bottle and drop it into the recycle bin. “I’m not going to platform on something that should have been done decades ago. It feels corrupt.”

“I told Merlin you’d say that. And he told me to tell you to do it anyway.”

“I won’t.”

“I told him that too. He said to tell you that you and Embry aren’t going to get re-elected on modesty alone.”

Embry.

Hearing his name from Belvedere’s mouth is like having my guts exposed. I rub a hand over my face, pray that the salt sting in my eyes is from sweat and not tears.

“What else?” I ask through my hand.

“Bakewell wants to meet about the Carpathian sanctions bill the House is floating around. I put her down at one. Then we’ve got a staff meeting in the Oval Office at one-thirty. Handshake session at three, at four we’ve got the police widows coming in. Merlin wants the photo op to smother the latest GOP claim that you’re anti-cop.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, dropping my hand. My party had sponsored and successfully pushed through legislation to track officer-involved shootings and to provide federal funds for body cameras and racial sensitivity training. The bill had been crafted in close consultation with the Fraternal Order of Police and several key police chiefs from around the country. It’s the kind of choice I would have easily made as a captain or a major in the war.

But this isn’t the war, I remind myself with a sigh. This is peacetime. And in peacetime, even the most careful of decisions can get ripped to shreds. Twisted for political gain.

I remind myself that I chose this way of living. Or it chose me. I’m still not sure which.

“And then there’s the gala for the Luther Center honors tonight. Trieste, Merlin, and Kay have made a few notes on your speech—would you like me to squeeze in Uri this morning for final revisions?”

Uri Katz is my head speechwriter, and he’s damn good. Normally, I want his input at every stage of a speech. But today is not a normal day, and today more than ever I’m feeling the bitter irony of speaking at the Luther Center—a foundation dedicated to promoting the arts and sciences that began with an endowment from my dead father, President Penley Luther. A father that only a few people in this world know is mine.

"Any word from Berlin?" I ask. "It should come through today or tomorrow, and it'll be unofficial channels."

Belvedere shakes his head. "Not yet, sir."

"Okay." I hand him the folder back. “We’re changing the day. Tell Lana to compile any information from her briefing and put it on my desk. Have Gawayne send the PDB digitally, reschedule the prime minister. I trust Uri to revise the speech on his own; I’ll tweak it later if I think it needs it. Something big happened last night, and our staff meeting is first thing now, got it?”

“Got it,” Belvedere murmurs, already typing into his iPhone.

“High school and widows stay, everything else gets bumped to tomorrow, please. I’ll go to the gala tonight—see if I can call the prime minister from the car on the way there, now that I think of it.”

My body man is nodding, tapping on the screen. “Anything else?”

“I want Merlin in the Residence as soon as possible.” I glance at the window by the weight machine; the pink dawn is glowing into the hot orange of morning. “He’ll be awake.”

“Done.”

We walk out of the gym together, making for the stairs to the second floor. “And Belvedere?”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“The moment my wife’s plane from New York touches down, I want to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

I touch his shoulder, and he looks at me, his young face a combination of honored and vulnerable and wary. It reminds me so much of a young Embry that I have to swallow.

“Thank you, Ryan,” I say quietly. “For all your help. I would be nothing without you. It was true during the campaign and it’s even more true now.”

“Sir,” Belvedere stammers. “You know that’s not true at all.”

“I wish you knew,” I say with a rueful smile, “how weak I really am.” And then I leave him to start my first day in ten years without my prince.

* * *

I feel Merlin approaching.

It was one thing I was better than most at in Carpathia, that feeling. It’s not simply seeing or hearing, it’s not guessing, it’s not even really deduction. The ability to feel your way through a forest, through a silent village full of blinking eyes and closed mouths. To feel your way through a battle.

When I came to the capitol, it served me well. I already knew how to be still through the bullshit, through the noise, and I could feel the lies and the plans people spun around me. It’s not actually battle in the true sense of the word, and thank God for that. I’ve taken enough lives, killed enough enemies, watched enough buildings burn. Sometimes when my staff is caught up in the daily cycle of panic and exhilaration that defines life here, I remind them that this is not really war. What we do matters, but more importantly, everybody gets to live. There’s time to fix things, time to think.

Everything terrible here can be undone. That wasn’t true in Carpathia.

And if I’m honest, I crave the extra challenge. In the mountains, a person was either a friendly or a foe, and there was no other option. But here the foes are friendly, and the friends are scheming. No one fits into a black or white box, their words are layered, their intentions nuanced. It takes every neuron, every ounce of my perception and charisma and self-control to lead here. It keeps me strong. Alert.

I try to gather my perception and self-control now, using them like plaster to cover over all the new cracks in my soul. My old friend will see them anyway, as he seems to see everything, but I’d rather not make it easy for him.

“This will be short,” I say once Merlin actually walks through the door. “We’ve got the staff meeting in less than an hour.”

Merlin nods, studying me, his dark eyes taking in my undoubtedly tired-looking face, my hair still wet from my shower, the suit jacket I haven’t bothered to put on yet.

“Have a seat Merlin, please.”

I stay standing as he sits. My muscles ache from my workout, my dick aches from being hard and angry all night, my chest aches from missing Embry and Greer. I take a moment to imagine her kneeling at my feet, my hand sliding through all that silky gold hair, her face turned in to rub against my thigh, and something inside me settles.

I sit too.

“Embry quit last night. The official resignation will come from his office today.”

Merlin looks unsurprised, although he makes a noise that a less observant person might translate as shock. “How terrible. I suppose it’s to prepare to run against you?”

“Yes.”

“And his replacement?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache creeping behind my eyes. “Kay, of course. I’d like to ask Trieste to fill her spot as Chief of Staff.”

“And your new press secretary if she accepts?”

“I don’t think Uri wants it, but we’ll ask him first. When he says no, we’ll go outside staff. I want someone young and smart, and we’ve got enough white men on staff, so let’s keep that in mind as we look.”

“Agreed,” Merlin says calmly.

“Did you know this was going to happen?”

“Of course not,” he answers. He’s a good liar, but not good enough. I feel the ripple of omission in his words, the studied guilelessness of his face. He knew something. He’s never withheld anything from me politically, but Embry straddles the line of political and personal. And when it comes to the personal, I think Merlin’s withheld many things from me over the years.

I change subjects. “You told Embry he couldn’t be with me.”

Merlin lifts his chin. “It was wartime, Maxen. Sacrifices had to be made.”

“But that one?”

The mundane whoosh of the air-conditioning kicks on. Outside the window, the District is already a swamp of hot metal and steaming asphalt. Despite the whirr of cold air blowing through the vents, I feel the August heat trying to beat down the walls of the building, and I suddenly feel very, very tired.

“I told him the truth, nothing more,” Merlin says simply. “It was always up to him what he chose to do with that truth.”

“You knew him. You knew if you presented it like I needed protecting that he would protect me.”

“You did need protecting.”

“Goddammit, from what, Merlin?” I take a breath, trying to sheathe the knife of my anger. “I didn’t ask for anyone to watch out for my career. I would have accepted the consequences of loving Embry, no matter what they were.”

“You needed protecting from yourself,” Merlin replies, “from this very attitude. You were made for that war and you were made for this.” His finger comes down deliberately on the arm of his chair, indicating this room. This building. This city. “I’m sorry, but that couldn’t be wasted.”

“Wasted,” I repeat. “Wasted on what? Love? A happy life? Have you ever been in love, Merlin? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

To my surprise, Merlin’s eyes flash a hot, furious onyx. “I’ve been in love,” he says in a careful voice. “But I always knew my life was a lonely path. I did what needed to be done, so that I could do this work with you. For you.”

“So was Embry revenge? You gave up love to work for me, and I had to be denied the same thing?”

“You’re tired and you’re hurting, so I’ll excuse the accusation that I’ve orchestrated the intentional destruction of your happiness. Lest you forget, if you’d married Embry all those years ago, you wouldn’t have Greer.”

That stops my anger cold in its tracks.

“Embry said the same thing last night,” I say, looking down at my hands. “You’re both right.”

I wouldn’t be complete without her, and neither would Embry. She was made to be my wife, and we were made to be a three.

Merlin stands up. “If that’s all?”

“It’s not,” I say, although I wish it were. I wish I’d woken up this morning with my wife on one side of me and my lover on another. I wish that the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done wrong, and everything my father did wrong too, would stop haunting me. “My son.”

Merlin stiffens, and for the first time this morning, I realize I’ve truly caught him off guard.

“Tell me you didn’t know,” I nearly plead. “Tell me that you wouldn’t keep this from me.”

Merlin is struggling; I see it in his face. Feel it inside his mind, like a wind is blowing all his thoughts away like dry leaves on a tree. I also feel the moment he decides to tell me the truth.

“I’m not proud of it,” he finally says, meeting my gaze. I see something much, much older than his forty-some years in his crow-black eyes. “I had thought…well, I’d hoped…not to repeat old sins. Not to make the mistakes of the past.”

“Old sins? Are you talking about my father?”

He blinks, as if coming back to himself. “Yes,” he answers, but he’s lying again, and I’m not sure why.

“You don’t have to protect me from Penley’s mistakes, Merlin. I would have given anything not to make them myself.”

“You couldn’t have risen very far with a child born out of wedlock, not in politics, and I had ambitions for you even then,” Merlin says. “Before we officially met, I had my eye on you. Morgan wanted to hide it from you, and Vivienne and I saw no reason why it would help anyone—you or Morgan—to stop her from hiding the truth.”

“We didn’t know back then Morgan was my sister, Merlin. It would have been okay.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and a cold suspicion tugs at me. “Merlin.”

He takes a breath, those black eyes looking ancient. “I knew before then, Maxen. I’ve known for a long time.”

“Jesus Christ.” This new betrayal is like a spear through my side. “How did you know?”

“My first job out of university was at a law firm in Manhattan responsible for carrying out certain provisions in Penley Luther’s will. They involved conferring a settlement on Imogen Leffey’s youngest child. When I found you, it wasn’t hard to see that you were his child as well. You have Imogen’s coloring, but your features, your bearing…It’s all Penley.”

“When you found me,” I echo his earlier words, staring at him.

“The fair. Do you remember? You’d just pulled a sword from a stone.”

I’ve thought of that moment almost every day since it happened, of the tall stranger who knew my name, but time had blurred away all the details, scrubbed away the reality of the moment. It had become something like a dream. “It was you.”

“I found you, and then I found Althea Colchester and left her the settlement funds. Didn’t you ever wonder how she was able to pay for your college tuition?”

“She said there’d been a scholarship…” I trail off. “But it was you. And Penley.”

“Yes.”

“But if you knew all those years ago, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you tell me never to sleep with anyone who had the last name Leffey?”

“I wrongfully thought you were too young to hear such a dire warning. To know the truth about your real parents. And so I was too late. As always.” And he smiles ruefully, as if at some private joke with himself.

“How did you learn about it?”

He looks away from me, to the window, his eyes going distant. “Nimue. I offered to help her family in any way I could, and together Vivienne and I made sure Lyr’s guardianship was transferred discreetly and legally. In fact, I was even the one to suggest the name. It’s Welsh,” he explains, his eyes still fixed on some far off point in the past. “From the sea. I thought if I was going to make the mistakes of the past, I could at least make them thoroughly.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes snap back to mine and clear. “You will. But not yet.”

“No more secrets, Merlin. You had no right to keep Lyr from me.” Pain tightens my chest again and I pause. “No more secrets.”

“No more,” Merlin agrees, “save one.”

“No.”

“I will tell you, I promise you that. But not now.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “When? Next week? Next month?”

“In two and a half years.”

For a moment, I think he’s joking and I laugh. But he doesn’t join me in laughing, and I see that his face is completely serious.

“Two and a half years,” I say incredulously. “You think I owe you that? After what you’ve done to Embry and me? After hiding my son from me?”

“I don’t think you owe me anything. I recognize that I’ve done cruel or manipulative things to you and the people in your life, but it’s always been in your best interest—in the best interest of everyone. Which is why you will have to wait. Not because you owe me, but because you don’t have a choice.”

I stand up. “Tell me how I’m supposed to trust you. Tell me how I’m supposed to go into that staff meeting and turn to you for advice.”

Merlin gives me a small, sad smile. “You will trust me because it’s in your nature to trust. You will turn to me for advice because I’ve never steered you into a decision that would harm this country or its citizens. The real tragedy of your life, Maxen, is that you will never stop having faith in the people around you, even when they hurt you over and over again.”

He takes his leave, and I take a breath.

You will never stop having faith in the people around you, even when they hurt you over and over again.

It feels like a curse.

I grab my jacket and follow him downstairs.