King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(49)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “No. Why would you think that?”

Oh, crap. He was a worse liar than I was; he was hiding something.

I blew out a puffy-cheeked breath. “Okay. Does anyone know where I can find a phone and get a passport? And an American Express office? A U.S. Consulate? B of A?”

More stares.

“What?”

Officer Spiros stepped around the table. “Why don’t we speak in the other room while my family continues the discussion?”

I followed him out into the living room and through another doorway that led to a huge monster of a showroom kitchen. He called for that older woman again—Piretria?—and when she appeared like magic, he rattled off some instructions. She jumped to work, grabbing ingredients from the refrigerator.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“She is one of the king’s servants,” he said with a thick accent.

It was so odd to hear King referred to as “the king.” My mind simply couldn’t wrap around any of it.

“Is she part of your family?” I asked, wondering who everyone was and how many people worked for King.

He looked almost insulted. “The Spiros are the king’s loyal servants. But we protect him, assist him in managing his affairs, and fight for him if necessary. We do not scrub floors.”

“And her?” I asked, glancing at the woman in the head scarf.

“She is a simple Ypirétria. A maid. Just like her mother and grandmother and all of the women in her family before her. They are servants of the king.”

Again, I couldn’t begin to understand how King, a ghost, lived in a palace, had servants, and entire families dedicated to him.

“So she works here for King. Was this place a hotel once?” Because it really did look like a resort, not a home.

“No. This is our king’s palace. He began building it a few years ago in anticipation of…” His words trailed off.

“What?” I leaned into the counter.

“Of a special event he plans to hold soon.”

I lifted my brows. “Special? Like a party?”

“Yes. Like a party.”

I shrugged. “Seems a little extravagant to build a house just for a party, but hey, I’m just a resurrected Seer of Light. What do I know?”

He swallowed as if I’d said something unsavory. “You are a Seer?”

“Okay. Enough with the bullcrap. Why is everyone acting so strange? Did I do something wrong?”

Officer Spiros, who looked like a thinner, slightly older version of his brother Arno, wasn’t handsome in a traditional sense, but he carried himself with a certain air of authority. Authority he was struggling to maintain around me. Why?

“No. Of course not, it’s just that…” He scratched his clean-shaven chin. “Our king has waited a very, very long time to…”

“To what?” I asked.

He blew out a breath and looked at his feet. “A Seer? You are really a Seer?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

Again he sighed and shook his head, cursing under his breath. “It is simply that my people are not especially fond of your kind. Not after…”

“Oh. I get it. Hagne. You hate Seers because of Hagne. But I’m not her. I didn’t curse King.”

He shook his head. “History and tradition are important to the Spiros. And our tradition of hating your people goes back many generations.”

I blinked and shook my head. Complete silliness. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to live here. So hate me all you like, just as long as you help me—”

“But you will live here. Your place is beside our king. And this is your home. He has waited a very, very long time to find his true queen.”

If I’d been holding a glass or some other breakable object in my hand, it would have crashed to the floor at that moment. “Queen?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

I shook my head no, but the man had to be mistaken or playing a joke.

He cursed under his breath.

“Look, uh—what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘officer.’”

“Stefanos.” He made a little dip with his head.

“Okay. Stefanos, I’m not sure what King told you, but I am not his woman, girlfriend, significant other, or anything else.”

“But you bear his mark.”

Why did everyone keep pointing that out? “I know, but—shit, never mind; it’s a long story. I really, really need to start tracking down my brother. I’m not joking.”

Stefanos nodded. “Yes, of course. How can we be of assistance?”

“How about a phone?” I would start by calling my parents to see if they’d heard anything from Justin. Plus, by now, they had to be worried. And my poor mother, this was not a good time to be pushing her mentally.

He hesitated. “I cannot allow that. Not until you’ve told us what happened. We must ensure you are not in any further danger.”

Oh Lord. “You just asked how you can help. I need to call my mom. She just had a stroke, and my disappearing will not help her.”

“Five minutes. Sit with us for five minutes so that we may fully understand the facts. Then we will help you.”

“Fine.” I marched back toward the madness in the other room. Once again a stark silence fell over everyone.

“Please, sit.” Stefanos gestured me to an empty chair at the head of the table.

I took it and quickly began rattling off everything that happened over the past few weeks since King went missing. The five women and fifteen men, all in their mid to late thirties, had the same olive skin and wavy, dark brown hair and big brown eyes. Eyes that they used to slowly drill right through me as they stared like hypnotized fanboys and girls.

“Okay. That’s enough. I am not his queen. Stop looking at me like that.”

“But you bear his mark,” said one woman to my right with long, wavy hair.

“Yes. That’s because King put me to sleep and then—you know what, it doesn’t matter. I am not his. And why is everyone so concerned with my mark when King is being held prisoner? Don’t you think that’s a bit more important?”

A few of the men mumbled quietly to one and other, but I didn’t understand.

I looked at Stefanos. “Well?”

“This is what we have been debating. We were left instructions, very specific instructions. King said that he would be going away for a while but under no circumstances were we to interfere.”