and I dined together a couple of times when I was in Denmark the other week. She has all the makings of an excellent queen.’
An image of the raven-haired Princess, a famed beauty who dealt with incessant press scrutiny on account of her ethereal royal loveliness, came to Amy’s mind. Waves of nausea rolled in her belly.
‘You never mentioned it.’
‘There was nothing to say.’ He didn’t look the slightest bit shamefaced.
‘Did you sleep with her?’
He met her stare, censure clear in his reflection. ‘What kind of a question is that?’
‘A natural question for a woman to ask her lover.’
Until that moment it hadn’t been something that had occurred to her: the idea that he might have strayed. Helios had never promised fidelity, but he hadn’t needed to. Since their first night together their lust for each other had been all-consuming.
‘The Princess is a virgin and will remain one until her wedding day whether she marries me or some other man. Does that answer your question?’
Not even a little bit. All it did was open up a whole heap of further questions, all of which she didn’t have the right to ask and not one of which she wanted to hear the answer to.
The only question she could bring herself to ask was ‘When are you hoping to marry the lucky lady?’
If he heard the irony in her voice he hid it well. ‘It will be a state wedding, but I would hope to be married in a couple of months.’
A couple of months? He expected to choose a bride and have a state wedding in a few months? Surely it wasn’t possible...?
But this was Helios. If there was one thing she knew about her lover it was that he was not a man to let the grass grow beneath his feet. If he wanted something done he wanted it done now, not tomorrow.
But a couple of months...?
Amy was contracted to stay in Agon until September, which was five whole months away. She’d imagined... Hoped...
She thought of King Astraeus, Helios’s grandfather. She had never met the King, but through her work in the palace museum she felt she had come to know him. The King was dying. Helios needed to marry and produce an heir of his own to assure the family line.
She knew all this. Yet still she’d shared his bed night after night and allowed herself to believe that Helios would hold off his wedding until her time on Agon was up.
Gripping the sides of the free-standing bath, she got carefully to her feet and stepped out. Hands trembling, she pulled a warm, fluffy towel off the rack and held it to her chest, not wanting to waste a second, not even to wrap it around herself.
Helios pulled his top lip down and brought the blade down in careful but expert fashion. ‘I’ll call you when the ball is finished.’
She strode to the door, uncaring that bathwater was dripping off her and onto the expensive floor tiles. ‘No, you won’t.’
‘Where are you going? You’re soaking wet.’
From out of the corner of her eye she saw him pat his towel over his face and follow her through into his bedroom, not bothering to cover himself.
She gathered her clothes into a bundle and held them tightly. A strange burning buzzed in her brain, making coherent thought difficult.
Three months. That was how long she’d shared his bed. In that time they’d slept apart on only a dozen or so occasions, when Helios had been away on official business. Like when he’d gone to Denmark and, unbeknownst to her, dined with Princess Catalina. And now he was throwing a ball to find the woman he would share a bed with for the rest of his life.
She’d known from the start that they had no future, and had been careful to keep her heart and emotions detached. But to hear him being so blasé about it...
She stood by the door that opened into the secret passageway connecting their apartments. There were dozens and dozens of such secret passageways throughout the palace; a fortress built on intrigue and secrets.
‘I’m going to my apartment. Enjoy your evening.’
‘Have I missed something?’
The fact that he looked genuinely perplexed only made matters worse.
‘You say it isn’t appropriate for me to come tonight, but I’ll tell you what isn’t appropriate—talking about the wife you’re hours away from selecting with the woman who has shared your bed for three months.’
‘I don’t know what your problem is,’ he said with a shrug, raising his hands in an open-palmed gesture. ‘My marriage won’t change anything between us.’
‘If you believe that then you’re as stupid as you are insensitive and misogynistic. You speak as if the women you are selecting from are sweets lined up in a shop rather than flesh and blood people.’ She shook her head to emphasise her distaste, watching as her words seeped in and the perplexity on Helios’s face darkened into something ugly.
Helios was not a man who received criticism well. On this island and in this palace he was celebrated and feted, a man whose words people hung on to. Affable and charming, his good humour was infectious. Cross him, however, and he would turn with the snap of two fingers.
If she wasn’t so furious with him Amy would probably be afraid.
He strode towards her, magnificently naked. He stopped a foot away and folded his arms across his defined chest. A pulse throbbed at his temple and his jaw clenched tightly.
‘Be careful in how you speak to me. I might be your lover, but you do not have a licence to insult me.’
‘Why? Because you’re a prince?’ She hugged the towel and the bundle of clothes even tighter, as if their closeness could stop her erratically thumping heart from jumping out of her chest. ‘You’re about to make a commitment to another woman and I want no part of it.’
Benedict, Helios’s black Labrador, sensed the atmosphere and padded over to her, his tongue lolling out as he sat on his haunches by her side and gave what looked like a disapproving stare at his master.
Helios noticed it too. He rubbed Benedict’s head, the darkness disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, an indulgent smile spreading over his face as he looked at Amy. ‘Don’t be so dramatic. I know you’re premenstrual, and that makes you more emotional than you would otherwise be, but you’re being irrational.’
‘Premenstrual? Did you really just say that? You really are on a different planet. God forbid that I should become “emotional” because my lover has had secret dates with other women and is about to take one of them for his wife and still expects me to warm his bed. But don’t worry. Pat me on the head and tell me I’m premenstrual. Pat yourself on the back and tell yourself you’ve done nothing wrong.’
Too furious to look at him any more, she turned the handle of the door and pushed it open with her hip.
‘Are you walking away from me?’
Was
