‘There certainly is,’ Lily said. ‘If you’re about to take on the role of Crown Princess, you need every bit of respect you can get. Nikos, bow or something.’

‘We’re expected in the great hall,’ Nikos growled. ‘Princess Athena’s kept the kitchen waiting. I hope dinner’s not spoiled.’

Which earned him a glance of gentle reproof from Lily. ‘Princess Athena’s permitted to keep anything she wants waiting,’ she said grandly. ‘Including you, Nikos. Take the lady’s hand and lead the way.’

She was seated in the centre of the head table, at a royal reception just for her. It was almost too much to take in.

To her left was Nikos, then Alexandros and then Lily. They were chatting as old friends. She’d love to be included.

But on her right was the Archbishop, talking and drinking at an alarming rate. He spoke in theological platitudes, and any attempt she made to make the conversation more general-to include Nikos, or to talk to the woman on the other side of him-saw the platitudes grow louder.

Being royal was suddenly boring.

She pecked desultorily at her dinner, not hungry, but then Nikos leaned over and murmured into her ear, ignoring the Archbishop’s monotone; ‘Thena, the kitchen staff have worked themselves into a lather getting this meal ready tonight. There hasn’t been a royal reception on this island for twenty years. I need to tell you that they’re likely to fall on their kitchen knives if you don’t eat your dinner.’

She stared at him, astonished, and saw he was serious. And she had no comeback. He was already talking again with Alexandros.

Okay, she’d eat her dinner. She’d listen to the Archbishop. She’d be a good princess.

What was she letting herself in for?

She might look like a princess. She didn’t feel like one.

Nikos was simply dressed in a black suit, beautifully cut, with a crisp white linen shirt. Alexandros was wearing full royal regimentals.