She stared at him, but she was no longer seeing him. Argyros…The Diamond Isles. Three magic island nations in the Mediterranean. All whitewashed stone, steep cliffs, sapphire seas. Three diamonds glittering in the sun.
Home.
Once upon a time the Isles had been three separate nations-Sappheiros, Argyros and Khryseis, but for the last two hundred years they’d been ruled as a Kingdom. Now, however, with the death of King Giorgos without an heir, the islands were Principalities again.
And she was Crown Princess Athena.
Ha. She’d walked away from the royal title when she’d walked away from the island, but it always had been a hollow tag.
Nikos had more right to rule than she, she thought. He’d lived and worked on Argyros all his life. He loved it.
And Demos?
Demos was the son of Athena’s uncle. Because his father was younger than Athena’s mother, he was second in the ancient lineage where she was first. But neither of them had expected to rule.
From time to time she’d read about Demos in the society pages. Whereas she’d left her title of Princess on the island, Demos still valued the title Prince and he used it.
He’d phoned her a week ago and asked that she abdicate and leave the Crown to him. She’d tentatively agreed, because what was the alternative? Going home…going back herself was impossible.
‘Demos arrived back on the island the day after we learned the King’s rule was ended,’ Nikos said, and she realised he’d been following her thoughts. ‘He wants it so badly he’ll do whatever it takes to get it. He’s assuming you don’t want it. Do you know why?’
‘He rang and asked.’
‘Alexandros rang you as well.’
‘Yes.’ Alexandros, the new crown Prince of Sappheiros, was trying to untangle the mess that was the succession.
‘And you told him you were confused.’
‘I was,’ she said. ‘Until Demos phoned.’
‘So you’d let Demos have it?’
‘It’s an empty title anyway. Demos will enjoy it. And how can I come home now?’ she demanded.
‘It’s not an empty title. Not if he opens the diamond mines.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. My life is here.’
‘It’s not much of a life if it doesn’t include crepes. Or souffle. Hey, look at this!’
The house speciality was arriving. The souffle. This dish was famous.
‘Who do you think you are?’ she demanded, and he grinned.
‘A fisherman from Argyros. A kid in a lolly shop. Wow! Shut up and eat, Thene. This food needs serious respect.’
She opened her mouth to deny it. She so did not need another sweet.
Her raspberry souffle was exploding upward and outward, crusty, dusted with sugar, irresistible. While she thought weakly about denial, the waiter produced a jug and poured a thin, hot trickle of blood-red juice down into the souffle. The crust burst at the centre, the souffle swallowed the juice and Athena conceded that maybe Nikos was right. This demanded serious respect.
She shut up and ate.
Heaven. Right here on the plate. Seriously wonderful food…
Missing out on such treats was the price she paid for being where she was. If she got up at five tomorrow and jogged double her normal distance…Maybe…
‘Let it go, Thene,’ Nick said. He was wiping the inside of his bowl with his forefinger and licking in deep appreciation. ‘You had a bigger butt when you were eleven. It’s not natural.’
‘It’s what I do.’ She finished and set down her spoon. Who licked their fingers?
She had a sudden blast of memory. Nikos’s mother, Annia, standing at her kitchen table, endlessly baking. She remembered a plum pie that was to die for…
Before she could help herself, she let her finger drop into the bowl, ran it round the edges and licked. Not sure whether she was tasting souffle now, or pie from the past.
‘How’s your mother?’ she asked.
“Great,” Nikos said. “She sends her love. She says come home-though if I take you home looking like this she’ll have forty fits.’
‘I loved your mother.’
It was said without thinking. She hadn’t meant it. Or…she hadn’t meant to say it.
‘She hated it when you went away, Thene.’
‘Yeah. Well.’ Suddenly she’d had enough. More than enough. Emotion was threatening to overwhelm her. She stood up, too fast. It made her feel dizzy. Disoriented. Nikos was beside her in a flash, gripping her elbow, supporting her.
She should wrench away. He made her…melt.
‘I need to go home.’
‘My car’s close.’
‘You have a car? Here? In Manhattan?’
‘Borrowed from Stefanos.’
Stefanos. Of course. The third member of the guardians.
Stefanos, Alexandros and Nikos had been friends from childhood. Three intelligent boys, bound by one common goal. To free their respective islands.
They’d run together as a pack. Only, of course, while Giorgos was alive they could do nothing. But now…
‘Stefanos is still in New York?’ she asked. She’d seen him once, when she’d walked into a city hospital to visit a friend. She’d turned and walked out before he’d seen her. She’d even thought of moving to another city because he was here. But that was ridiculous. It was a big city.
‘Stefanos is in Australia trying to find the heir to the throne of Khryseis. He’s Prince Regent of that island. Like you, he doesn’t have a choice.’
‘I do have a choice,’ she snapped. ‘And one of them is to make my own way home. To my home. To where I live now.’
‘How do you get home from here?’ he asked, as if mildly interested, not taking up her nuances. ‘A cab? I’ll drive you.’
‘I ride the subway.’
‘This is my neighbourhood, Nikos,’ she said, and made her voice sound sure and mature and…determined. ‘This is where I live. But I need to go. Oscar and Nicholas are expecting me.’
‘Who are Oscar and Nicholas?’
‘My family,’ she said, and the thought of Nicholas brought fear flooding back. ‘So…so, if you’ll excuse me…Oh, you need to pay? Sorry if I don’t wait. Goodnight.’
And she turned and walked from the restaurant.
When she reached the pavement she slipped off her shoes and she started to run.
CHAPTER TWO
CARRIE was watching TV when she let herself into her apartment. Lovely, comforting Carrie, middle-aged and buxom, knitting endless squares to turn into endless blankets for the homeless. She closed the door, leant on it as if to lock the world out and let herself be comforted by the domesticity in front of her.
Oscar was lying draped over Carrie’s feet. The big basset hound looked up at her with soulful reproach, as if to say,
