Theseus Discovers His Heir Page 4

  His return to Agon from his sabbatical had been a turning point for him. Battling grief for his grandmother and ugly home truths from his grandfather, he’d known it was time to stop fighting. He would never be free. Sitting on the summit of Aconcagua in Argentina, the highest point in the Southern Hemisphere, was the closest he would ever get to the stars.

  It had been time to accept his destiny.

  He had decided he would curb his pleasure-seeking and throw himself into palace life. His grandfather had already been an old man. Helios had taken on many of his duties. It had been time for Theseus to take his share of them and relieve the burden.

  He had been determined to prove to his grandfather that the Kalliakis name did mean something to him and had spent the years since his sabbatical doing exactly that—throwing himself into palace life and royal duties. In that time his appetite for sex had diminished to nothing, which suited him perfectly. Women who would usually turn his head had elicited minimal reaction. Neither his heart not his libido had been in it.

  Now, for the first time in years, he felt the thrill of the chase coiling in his veins and cursed that such feelings should be unleashed.

  Jo might be walking temptation, but there was no place in his life for desire. His next relationship would be with the woman he made his wife, even if he did intend on putting off the moment for as long as he could.

  He stepped away from his desk and crossed the threshold into the adjoining office.

  ‘How are you getting on?’

  She didn’t respond.

  He was about to repeat his question but then saw she had earphones in.

  She must have sensed his presence, for she turned her head and pulled them out.

  ‘I will be leaving the palace shortly. Is there anything you need to talk to me about?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m still going through the research papers and making notes on anything I feel could be relevant. As so many aspects are connected I think it will be best if we sit down and discuss it all when I’m done.’

  ‘Will that not eat into your writing time?’

  ‘It will make it easier—it means it will be solid in my head and I’ll be in a position to work through it all without having to stop and interrupt you every five minutes. I’ll probably still have further questions, but they will be far fewer this way.’

  ‘I’m hosting a function for a delegation of French businessmen today, and I have a dinner at the US Embassy to attend this evening, but I can clear most of my diary for the next few days so I’ll be available when you’re ready.’

  ‘That would be good, thank you,’ she answered with a brief smile, her brilliant blue-grey eyes meeting his. She looked away, casting her gaze to her desk, then back up to him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course.’ So long as it wasn’t about Illya. He refused to give headspace to memories from that time.

  ‘Your grandfather’s ill, isn’t he?’

  ‘How do you know that?’ he asked, taken aback.

  No one outside of the family circle and some select palace staff were supposed to know of his grandfather’s cancer—which naturally meant the whole palace knew. However, Theseus knew none of them would discuss it with anyone on the outside. Working in the Agon Royal Palace was considered an honour. To share confidential matters would be deemed treasonous.

  ‘The publishing deadline was brought forward by three months and it was a tight enough deadline to begin with.’ She shrugged, as if ashamed of her conclusion.

  But it was the right conclusion.

  It had occurred to Theseus, when the Jubilee Gala plans were first being discussed, that his grandfather had never seen his legacy in print. Usually Agon biographies were written after the reigning monarch had abdicated, then another would be written upon their death. As his grandfather had never abdicated that first book had never been written. He’d spent fifty years on the throne—the longest reign in three hundred years.

  Suddenly he’d stumbled upon a tangible way to prove to his grandfather that he was proud of his heritage, proud to be a Kalliakis and, more than any of that, proud to call Astraeus his grandfather.

  The more he’d immersed himself in his grandfather’s life, the greater his pride had become. Astraeus Kalliakis was a true king. A man of honour. A man Theseus knew he should have emulated, not turned his back on for all those years.

  This biography would be his personal tribute to him.

  But then fate had stepped in. No sooner had he finished his research, and Fiona had flown over to the island to start writing it, than his grandfather had been given his diagnosis and everything had been brought forward by three months.

  The Gala, the biography...everything was being rushed. Because now there lay the real danger that his grandfather wouldn’t live long enough to see any of it.

  The day drew nearer when he would have to say goodbye for the last time to the man who had raised him from the age of nine.

  Theos, he would give his soul for a miracle.

  * * *

  Jo watched Theseus carefully. For a man usually so full of vitality he had a sudden stillness about him that she found unnerving.

  Then his lips curved into a pensive smile and he nodded. ‘Your intuition is right. My grandfather has cancer.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘He’s eighty-seven,’ he said philosophically, but his eyes had dimmed.

  ‘That doesn’t make it any easier.’ Jo had only known one of her grandparents: her paternal grandfather. She’d never seen much of him when she’d been growing up but she remembered how she’d always looked forward to his visits. When Granddad Bill came over her mother would bake even more cakes than usual and her father would drag himself out of the study where he spent his days drinking cheap whisky.

  His death had saddened her but the distance between their lives had meant it had caused a dull ache rather than an acute pain.

  It would be a thousand times harder for Theseus. The King was like a father to him.

  He must be going through hell.

  She remembered his despondency five years ago, when he’d learned his grandmother was dying. Whatever regrets Jo might have over that night, she would never regret being there for him.

  Who amongst this palace of courtiers did he turn to for solace now? Who wrapped their arms around his neck and stroked his hair? Who tried to absorb his pain and give him comfort?

  Because surely—surely—his pain that night had been real. Even if everything else had been a lie, that had been true.

  Somewhere beneath the brooding façade Theseus was in agony. She would bet every penny she owned on it.

  He tugged at his shirt collar as if it constricted him. ‘The hardest thing to understand is why he didn’t say anything sooner. He’s known for a number of years that something was wrong but didn’t say a word until the pain became intolerable. If he’d spoken sooner they might have been able to cure him, but...’ He shrugged and closed his eyes. ‘He left it too late. He’s riddled with it.’

  ‘Is he having any treatment?’

  ‘Against the doctor’s advice, yes.’

  ‘They don’t think it’s a good idea?’

  ‘His age and frailty are factors against it, but my grandfather is a stubborn old man who has never had to bow to the opinions of those he disagrees with—he is a king. He wants to live long enough to celebrate his jubilee and see Helios married. He has tasked the doctors with making that happen.’

  Silence hung, forming a strangely intimate atmosphere that was broken by a knock on the door.

  Theseus’s eyes held hers for a beat longer before he called out, ‘Come,’ and a courtier entered with news that the delegation he was expecting had arrived.

  Excusing himself, he disappeared, leaving Jo with nothing but her own confused
thoughts for company.

  She doubled over and laid her cheek on the desk, gazing at the closed door with unfocused eyes, trying to control the savage beat of her heart.

  The King—her son’s great-grandfather—was dying.

  It brought it home as nothing else had that this family, however great and powerful they might be, were Toby’s kin.

  She gripped her head, felt a cramping pain catching in her belly. Her emotions were riding an unpredictable roller coaster. She might as well be blindfolded for all she knew of what the immediate future would bring.

  But her conscience spoke loud and clear. Toby would start school in five months and the innocence with which he looked at the world would change. He knew he had a daddy who lived in Greece, but so far that was the extent of his knowledge and his curiosity. Soon the notion of a father wouldn’t be some abstract thing but something concrete that all the other kids had and he would want too.

  And didn’t Theseus deserve to know that he was a father and be given the choice to be in Toby’s life?

  If only she had a crystal ball.

  But no matter how much guilt she carried she could not forget that her overriding priority was her son. She would do anything to keep him safe, and if that meant keeping Theseus in the dark until she was certain his knowing could bring no harm to Toby, then that was what she must do.

  * * *

  Dictaphone and notepad in hand, Jo slipped through the archway into Theseus’s office. After almost two days of going through the research papers she was ready for him.

  He was on the phone. His desk—which, like her own, curved to cover two walls but was twice the size—was heaped with neat piles of files and folders. His three desktop computers were all switched on.

  He nodded briefly in acknowledgement and raised a hand to indicate that he wouldn’t be long.

  While he continued his conversation she felt his eyes follow her as she stepped over to the window.

  She loved gazing out over the palace grounds. No matter which window she looked out from the vista was always spectacular, with sprawling gardens that ran as far as the eye could see, lush with colourful spring flowers and verdant lawn, and the palace maze rising high in the distance.

  When she looked back he was unabashedly studying her.

  Prickles of self-consciousness swept through her. Flustered, she smoothed her sweater down over her stomach and forced her gaze back outside, scolding herself for reading anything into his contemplative study of her. Her thin cream sweater and faded blue jeans were hardly the height of fashion.

  ‘What can I help you with?’ he asked once he’d finished his call.

  ‘I’m ready with my questions for you.’

  ‘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 hi
s 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

  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.

  ‘No, thank you.’ While she poured the coffee her gaze lingered on the cake.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She pulled a face. ‘I put on weight just looking at it.’

  ‘One slice won’t hurt.’

  ‘If I have one slice I’ll want the rest of it, and before we know it I’ll be running to the kitchen and holding the chef to ransom until he’s made me a fresh one.’ She said it with laughter in her voice, but there was no disguising the longing on her face.

  He was about to encourage her again—to his mind a little bit of everything never hurt anyone—when he remembered her as she’d been on Illya. She still had her luscious curves now, but there was no denying that she’d lost weight—perhaps a couple of stone if he were any judge. It seemed her weight loss was an ongoing battle.