‘There’s a child,’ his friend told him.

‘A child,’ he said numbly.

‘A little girl. Christos married, but his wife was killed in the same accident. Their child survived. She was four when her parents were killed. She’s now eight.’

Stefanos didn’t respond. He was staring at his friend, but he was seeing nothing.

He was working on groundbreaking surgical techniques. His work here was vital.

A child.

‘Her name’s Zoe,’ his friend said. ‘She’s still living in Australia with a woman called Mrs Elsa Murdoch, who seems to be employed as her nanny. But, Steve…’

‘Yes?’ But he already knew what was coming.

‘Christos’s death means the child takes the Crown,’ he said gently. ‘Zoe’s now the Crown Princess of Khryseis. That means you’re Prince Regent.’

Stefanos still didn’t answer. There was a chasm opening before him-a gaping void where his career used to be. He could only listen while his friend told him what he’d learned.

‘I’ve done some preliminary checks. From what I gather of the island’s constitution, you’ll be in charge until Zoe’s twenty-five. The island’s rule, and the consequent care of your cousin as Crown Princess, lies squarely on your shoulders. Now…do you want me to find an address for this woman called Elsa?’

CHAPTER TWO

ROYALTY was standing on Elsa’s beach.

Sunlight was shimmering from the surface of a turquoise sea. The tide was at its lowest for months. Their beach was a mass of rock pools and there were specimens everywhere.

They’d swum far out to the buoy marking the end of shallow water and a pod of dolphins had nosed in to check them out. They’d dived for starfish. They’d floated lazily in the shallows; floating eased the nagging ache in Elsa’s hip as nothing else could. Finally they’d made each other crowns out of seaweed pods, and now Queen Elsa and her consort, Princess Zoe, were marching back to the house for lunch and a nap.