Theseus Discovers His Heir

‘Ask away.’

‘It’ll probably take a couple of hours to go through them all,’ she warned him, conscious of how busy he must be.

‘My diary is clear. I’m at your disposal. Please, take a seat.’ He pointed to the armchair in the corner of his office and put his computers into sleep mode.

Sinking into the armchair’s cosy softness, she resisted the urge to tuck her feet under her bottom.

‘Before we discuss anything, I want to say how sorry I was to read about your parents’ accident.’

Their tragic car crash had changed the course of Agon’s history. It was something Jo knew would reverberate through the rest of her work, and as much as she would have liked to steer away from it, knowing that to talk about it would bring back painful memories for him, it wasn’t something she could avoid.

His gaze held hers before he brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

‘See,’ he said quietly, emotion swirling in his brown eyes, ‘I didn’t lie to you about everything.’

She didn’t answer, keeping her gaze on his and then wrenching her eyes away to look at her notebook, trying to keep her thoughts coherent.

When they’d sat in his cabin on Illya he’d swigged at his bottle of gin and told her how much his grandmother meant to him, that she’d been the one to whom he’d turned after the death of his parents. Jo’s heart had broken when she’d known he would be returning home to say his final goodbye.

‘Did you know when you left Illya that that would be it for Theo Patakis?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And are you happy with your real life or were you happier as Theo?’

His demeanour didn’t change but his eyes became steely. ‘I don’t think these questions have any relevance to my grandfather’s biography.’

‘I know.’

‘I am a prince of Agon. My duty is to my family and my island.’

‘But does it make you happy?’ she persisted.

‘Happiness is not quantifiable,’ he answered shortly, looking away to press a button on one of the four landline telephones on his desk. ‘I’ll order refreshments.’

With the thread of their conversation dismissed, Jo pulled out a small table tucked next to her so it sat between them, and put her Dictaphone on it.

‘Do you mind if I record our conversation rather than take notes?’ she asked once he’d ordered coffee and cake.

‘If that’s what works for you, then by all means.’

She pressed ‘record’ and glanced again at her notes.

‘Am I right in thinking your grandfather would have abdicated when your father reached the age of forty?’

‘That is correct. Agon monarchs traditionally step down when their heir turns forty. When my parents died Helios became heir.’

‘And Helios was ten at the time?’

‘Yes.’

‘So any thoughts of abdication and retirement had to be put to one side?’

‘My father was an only child. My grandfather’s only sibling died fighting in the war, so there was no one suitable to act as regent until Helios came of age.’

‘What plans did your grandfather have for his retirement?’

A shadow crossed his face, lines forming on his forehead. ‘He was going to take a back seat for my grandmother.’

‘She was a violinist?’

‘Yes. When they married she was already world-famous. My grandfather’s coronation limited the scope of when and where she could perform, so she concentrated on composing music rather than performing, which was her first love.’

‘So that was their plan? For her to start performing again?’

‘She still performed, but only a couple of times a year at carefully arranged events. His abdication would have freed her and enabled her to tour the world—something my grandfather was fully behind. He was looking forward to travelling with her.’

‘He’d travelled much of the world as a monarch,’ she pointed out.

‘Travelling as monarch is different. He was an ambassador for our island.’ He smiled grimly. ‘When a member of my family travels on royal business he has a retinue of staff and an itinerary that leaves no room for spontaneity. Every minute is accounted for.’

Jo tried to imagine the Theo she’d met five years ago, the carefree adrenaline addict with the infectious smile and an impulsive zest for life, living under such restrictions.

An image flashed into her mind of a fully mature lion trapped in a small cage.

‘Is that why your grandfather agreed you could take a sabbatical from your duties at the palace and travel the world?’

‘It wasn’t a question of agreement,’ he replied shortly.

When Theseus had decided to leave he’d discussed it with his grandfather as a matter of courtesy. He’d wanted his blessing but it hadn’t been imperative. He would have gone anyway. He’d graduated from Sandhurst and, loving military life, had stayed on in the army for a few more years. But then he’d turned twenty-eight and his family’s eyes had turned to him. He’d been expected to take his place in the palace, as a good prince was supposed to do...

It had felt as if a hook had been placed around his neck, tightening as the day had loomed ever closer.

He’d known that once he was in the palace permanently, any hope of freedom would be gone for ever. His childhood dream of becoming an astronaut had long been buried, but that yearning for freedom, the wish to see new horizons and control his own destiny without thinking of the impact on the palace, had still been so vivid he’d been able to taste it on his tongue.

He’d thought of his parents, dead at an age not much older than he was now, their lives snuffed out in the blink of an eye. Would they have lived that final day in the same way if they’d known it would be their last?

And so he’d made up his mind to leave before protocol engulfed him and to live his life as if each day really was his last.

He’d become Theo Patakis: the man he might have been if fate hadn’t made him a prince.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_778d9a9d-6270-547a-a5c8-fbe8842ec3df)

A STRANGE DISQUIET slipped through him. Theseus shrugged it off, and was thankful when a maid came into the office with their refreshments, placing a tray down on the table where Jo had put her Dictaphone.

He saw her gaze flitter to the karidopita, a walnut and spice cake.

‘Have a slice.’ He lifted the plate for her.