want to leave Niroli,’ she told King Giorgio. ‘But Marco does not wish me to leave. He has said he will do everything in his power to stop me and to keep me here.’ She didn’t tell the king about her pregnancy, just in case he echoed Marco’s insistence that her child be brought up under the cover of an arranged marriage between herself and a nobleman.
‘Only you have the authority to enable me to leave without Marco knowing.’
‘Why should I do that?’ the king challenged her.
Emily was ready for that. ‘Because you do not want me here,’ she replied. ‘You do not consider me good enough to be Marco’s mistress.’
‘He is not the man I thought if he cannot provide sufficient inducement to keep you in his bed, if that is where he wants you.’
‘Marco is more than man enough for any woman,’ Emily defended. ‘But I am too much of a woman to be prepared to share him with the throne and everything else that entails.’
She thought she saw a glimmer of grudging respect in the king’s eyes before he gave a stiff nod of his head. ‘Very well. I will help you. A royal flight will be made ready for you, and I shall ensure that Marco is kept out of the way until it has taken off.’
The king had kept his promise to her, and now she was on her way home. She closed her eyes against the acid burn of her tears and pressed her hand against her body as though in mute apology to her baby for what she was doing. ‘You may not understand it now, but I’m doing this for you and for your future,’ she whispered to him.
‘How dare you do this?’ White-faced with rage, Marco towered over his grandfather, royal protocol forgotten in his fury. Now he knew why Rafael had kept him at the village for so long with his endless complaints against young Tomasso and his friends.
When he had returned to the villa to find Emily missing, he had summoned Maria, and she had been the one who had told him that a car bearing the royal crest had arrived for her.
He had gone straight to the palace, demanding to see his grandfather.
‘Emily applied to me for aid, because she feared you would force her to remain here on Niroli against her will. Naturally, I helped her.’
‘Naturally,’ Marco agreed grimly, registering even more grimly that her departure had elevated Emily from being a floozy to someone his grandfather was prepared to speak of with far more intimacy. ‘After all, you never wanted her here.’
‘Whatever role she might have played in your life in London, there is no place for her here on Niroli. She herself accepts this and, in doing so, she shows far more sense and awareness of the importance of your future role than you do, Marco. I confess that she impressed me with her grasp of your responsibility. She fully understands what will entail when you become Niroli’s king.’
‘She also fully understands that she is to be the mother of my child,’ Marco told his grandfather sharply. ‘That is why she has left—but I don’t expect she told you that, did she?’
‘She is having your child?’
‘Yes,’ Marco confirmed unashamedly.
The king was frowning imperiously. ‘But that alters everything. Why did you not say something to me about this? She must be brought back, and at once! What if this child she is carrying should be a son? It is unthinkable that he should be brought up anywhere but here. Sons are a precious commodity, Marco, even if they are illegitimate. It is important that this child grows up on Niroli knowing his duty and his responsibility to the Crown. That knowledge cannot be instilled in him too early. When is the birth expected? There is much to do—the royal nursery will have to be prepared, and a suitable household established to take charge of him. The mother can stay in London if she wishes, in fact it would be better if she did,’ the king continued dismissively.
His grandfather was only painting a picture that was similar to the one he himself had put before Emily. But instead of feeling vindicated, Marco could feel a cold heaviness seeping through him, as though leaden weights had been tied to his hands so that he was effectively imprisoned.
‘You will order the woman to return, and when you do you will inform her that it is against the law of Niroli for anyone to remove a child of royal blood from the island, on penalty of death.’
Marco shook his head.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Grandfather. Once in some mediaeval age it might have been possible to make such a threat, but I can tell you now that the British courts will take a dim view of it, and that Emily is totally within her rights to want to keep her child with her. I would certainly support her in that. I want my child to grow up here, yes, but I also want his mother to be here for him, as well.’
‘Ridiculous sentimentality. I blame your mother for it. And your father. He should have insisted that she followed tradition and handed you over to those appointed to be responsible for your care as a future king, instead of meddling in matters that did not concern her. It is thanks to her that you developed this stubborn streak that puts you at odds with your duty.’
Marco forced himself not to say anything. Instead he focused on his childhood. He could see himself playing, running and his mother chasing him, and he could see too the disapproving looks of the elderly courtiers his grandfather had insisted were to be responsible for his upbringing and formation. His mother, had she still been alive, would have supported Emily and helped her. They would have got on well. His father had struggled to oppose the king’s insistence that Marco was brought up to be a prince, rather than as a member of a warm and loving family. His grandfather would try to impose his will on his great-grandchild, Marco knew. He frowned, suddenly sharply aware of his own desire to protect his child from the cold discipline and royal training he had known in his own childhood. He was not his father, he reminded himself. He was more than strong enough to ensure that his son was not subjected to the misery of his boyhood.
‘Whilst you are here,’ his grandfather was continuing imperiously, ‘I have decided that the generators will have to be removed from the island completely. They are causing too much conflict between our peoples. It is just as I had thought, these young dissidents in the mountains have been encouraged by the Viallis to band together and challenge the authority of their village elders. And the blame for that can be laid at our door, Marco. By publicly going against my wishes, you have turned yourself into a figurehead for their rebellion. Various informants have told me of their concern that they are only waiting until you are on the throne to force your hand and make demands that can never be granted. If there is any more trouble, I shall impose a curfew—that will teach them to respect the law and the Crown.’
‘If these youngsters are angry and filled with resentment, who can blame them?’ Marco demanded. ‘They need the controls on their lives relaxing, not tightening to the point where there is bound to be increased conflict. By imposing a curfew, all you will be doing is driving their feelings underground and alienating them further. What we need is to establish a forum in which they feel they can be heard and their views properly addressed.’
‘What, reward them for their rebelliousness and their disrespect? They need teaching a lesson, not to be indulged.’
‘Have a care, Grandfather,’ Marco warned. ‘Feed their sense of injustice by imposing your royal will, and in the end we will all pay a heavy price.’
‘Bah…! You are too soft, too much the modern liberal. You cannot rule Niroli like that, Marco. You rule it like this!’ The old king closed his fist and banged it
