Thena.

No. Not Thena. This was Crown Princess Athena, a woman now so far out of his league that suddenly he felt…as if he had no place here.

‘What the hell…? Where did she get that dress?’ It was Demos, standing beside him, his face a picture of apoplectic fury. ‘How long’s she been planning this? She told me…’

‘She told you she wasn’t interested in ruling the island,’ Nikos said, his gaze never leaving Athena. Where had she got the gown? It surely hadn’t been in one of the small cases she’d brought here with her.

Wherever it had come from, it was perfect.

And the islanders were dumbfounded.

Athena had effectively been brought up in isolation. Families who’d shown her friendship had been harshly warned off by Giorgos. That she had turned out so full of spirit was a testament to her strength, and to her courage.

Her mother had home-schooled her, on orders from Giorgos, so Nikos hadn’t met her until they’d been eight years old. He’d been bird-nesting-not stealing eggs, just observing, trying to reach the highest nests on the craggy island cliffs. She’d looked up at him from below, and he’d said, ‘Dare you.’ To his astonishment she’d come right on up. On the way down she’d cut her knee. Regardless of her protests, he’d taken her home so his mother could fix it.

He remembered she’d stopped outside his back door. ‘I’m not allowed into people’s houses.’

‘Why not?’ he’d demanded, astonished.

‘The King says I’m not allowed.’

And he remembered his mother’s reaction. She’d come out, breathing fire.

‘The King doesn’t command who comes into my kitchen,’ she’d retorted. ‘Welcome to my home, my love. Nikos, bring her in. Oh, look at your poor knee.’

Annia had defied the King to marry Nikos’s father and, where Athena was concerned, she defied him again.