CHAPTER ONE
ITWASREMARKABLE how some days could seem completely ordinary. How the sun would beat down as it always did, how the sounds in the air didn’t change, how people could go about their lives as normal and yet everything could be different. Changed.
Prince Vasili Leos, ‘spare’ to the throne of the small Mediterranean island kingdom of Thalonia, located in the Ionian Sea, sat in the darkened office of the private secretary to the King. He’d never liked this office, and would try to avoid it at all costs. The wood-panelled walls and polished wood floors were suffocating. It wasn’t a room to make anyone feel at ease, and ease was the last thing on his mind now.
Only the barest hints of sunlight passed through the slats of the dark wooden blinds, landing in penumbral stripes on the highly polished desk that was devoid of all clutter. And in the centre of all that light and dark, as if a divine spotlight was cast upon it, sat a letter with his name on it. A letter that currently consumed his existence. A letter that he wouldn’t have had if it hadn’t been for the news that had broken his world apart.
The King of Thalonia was dead.
Vasili was now King.
His brother Leander had been flying over the mainland when his plane had crashed. There were no survivors.
The King’s private secretary, Andreas Kyriakou, was speaking, but Vasili barely heard a word.
He was numb. Mere hours ago he had been sharing a drink with his brother, the rightful King, and now he was gone. An entire life wiped out. His only real family. And now he sat in this uncomfortable chair, hardly feeling the carved wood his arms rested on, to be told they had to move on swiftly.
Vasili had never wanted to be King. He was the spare. The insurance policy. The ‘Playboy Prince’, as he had been dubbed. He had never been intended for the throne and he didn’t want it.
‘Your Majesty, are you listening?’ Andreas asked, halting his pacing.
No, Vasili wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to. Everything was happening so fast it was a blur. The sun was still low in the sky. The morning had barely begun. And in that time he had been summoned to Andreas’s office and, without any preamble at all, had been told his brother was dead. Now, without waiting or caring about how that news had landed, they had already read Leander’s will. The letter had been left in his brother’s care to be given to Vasili in the event of his death.
Vasili glared at the white envelope. He shouldn’t have received it. Not yet, at least.
‘We need you to take the throne immediately. You need to speak to the people. Make sure they know the monarchy stands strong.’
Vasili curled his fingers into fists. He was still trying to process the fact that his brother was gone and all Andreas could do was talk of his ascension. Still, he remained silent. In this void he had landed in the thrum of his steady heart could be felt throughout his body. All he could see was that letter. A physical representation of the fact that Leander was gone and that Thalonia was now looking at a twenty-nine-year-old king in the seat of power. It was ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as the fact that yet another letter had been left to him by his father. A man who had shown him nothing but disapproval. The rebellious son...
The first had been after his death, barely a year ago, but Vasili had had no interest in what his father had had to say. In anger, he had immediately tossed that letter into the fireplace, and he had no inclination to open this letter either. He didn’t know if he ever wanted to read it. The contents could stay buried for all he cared. Just like the man himself.
His illness had come on swiftly, and before they’d known it the Kingdom had been plunged into mourning and Leander had ascended the throne. A role he had trained for his whole life. A role never meant for Vasili. One that the more superstitious of his people had come to believe was cursed.
And now allaying their fears would have to fall to him. It had to be some sort of cosmic joke! His people would once again sink into a pit of mourning and he couldn’t blame them. Leander had been a popular king and, given the fact that only Andreas was in this office with him, Vasili surmised that Carissa, their communications secretary, was making the announcement to the people as they spoke.
‘Thalonia requires stability, Your Maj—’
Vasili cut Andreas a glare that had him falling silent. He rounded the desk, sitting in the overlarge chair behind it.
‘Your Majesty, I understand that you do not wish to hear this, but I will say it again. Thalonia requires stability and it is your responsibility. This is your duty.’
Vasili wanted to laugh, but there wasn’t an ounce of humour within him. All there was were jumbled thoughts, and at the forefront of all of that was this blasted letter.
He could not fathom why his father would have left it to him for this moment. Throughout his entire life neither his father nor his mother had had any time for him at all. He was the spare. His existence merely a tick-box exercise. Why would they care about him when Leander has been the son who would one day lead the nation. They were King and Queen after all. Their time had been much too precious to be spent frivolously.
So what could the great Athanasios Leos have to say to him now? If he couldn’t even invest the barest hint of time in his youngest son when he’d needed him, what could he say now when he didn’t? Had he not been the one who had warned Vasili not to waste Leander’s time as a child? And yet here he was being asked to rescue the very institution for which he had never been good enough.
In fact, the only person who had been there for him as he’d grown up had been his nanny. The palace had employed several royal nannies, but only one had ever tended to him. She had raised him. Had given him the support and love he had missed so badly from his parents. She had been the only person he’d known he could count on, but when he had turned fifteen she had been let go, and that was when he’d known without a shadow of a doubt that whatever he wanted or cared for meant little to the crown.
So he had swallowed down his grief and decided that the crown meant nothing to him either. Resentment and rebellion had been born bright in him. He didn’t care about the throne. He didn’t care about being a prince. If he was of so little value, then all his family stood for held little value for him. And so he’d become the ‘Playboy Prince’, with no interest in ruling. It had seemed to be what aggravated his parents the most, so Vasili had freely indulged himself in his hedonistic lifestyle.
Rebellion had suited him well. Especially when all his parents had focused on was the monarchy and Leander.
Vasili had understood that. He’d understood the dedication that ruling a kingdom required. He’d even understood the attention Leander received. He was meant to be King. What he hadn’t understood was why those things had made his life void.
At least none of it had affected his relationship with his brother. Vasili had often been ordered to refrain from distracting his brother, and he’d obeyed, but that hadn’t stopped Leander from sneaking into Vasili’s room at night. From the time he was little they would share pilfered treats from the kitchens, until they’d grown older, when they had shared a drink.
While they hadn’t been able to be as close as siblings ought to be, or even really friends, Vasili had still looked up to his brother. Admired him even in adulthood. And now he was gone. Without a warning or a goodbye. He would never see Leander again. His brother was dead and what was he left with? An advisor he could barely tolerate and a kingdom that would be disappointed.
Vasili closed his eyes for a breath, the reality of the situation crashing upon him. With his mother having long since passed, and having buried his father only a year ago, now losing Leander meant he was alone. Completely alone.
This palace, grand and ostentatious, with its Rococo architecture, was the jewel of Seidon—Thalonia’s popular capital—and had been home to generations of his family and a battalion of staff, and never once had it felt quite so empty.
Of course Vasili had friends. An entire network of them. People who loved to party as much as him. Who were after a good time. And not a single one of them could he call now. Not one could he lean on or go to for support. He couldn’t think of what he would say in any case. Love and support were alien concepts to him, having never had the privilege of experiencing it for himself. So he would have to deal with this, with his immense grief, as he dealt with everything else in his life. Alone.
‘Your Majesty,’ Andreas said more forcefully. If he was at all aware of Vasili’s spiralling thoughts he didn’t show it. ‘You are now King. This is something you must accept. We have to move immediately. Thalonia cannot be without its king.’
Vasili was aware of that, and yet Andreas’s constant badgering had lit the wick of his anger. He needed a moment—one moment to himself. Alone. A moment to say goodbye to his brother and steel himself for whatever was to come.
‘And, furthermore, we need to move quickly to secure the future of the crown. You need to settle on an adequate bride and you need to marry and produce heirs as soon as possible. It is imperative—’
‘Enough!’ Vasili spat angrily, pushing to his feet and silencing Andreas.
He had heard just about as much as he could take from the older man. Swiping the letter off the table, Vasili strode out of the gloomy office, slamming the door shut behind him.
His angry footsteps echoed through the marble hallways of the palace, and a swirling cloud of fury and grief consumed Vasili as he tried to put as much space between him and Andreas as possible. Because right now it would take nothing for the tether on his temper to snap entirely.
Sensing his dark mood, the palace staff kept their eyes low and gave him a wide berth as they continued with their day. Vasili wondered if they already knew Leander was dead. They had to have been informed, and yet none offered him even hollow words of sympathy.
Seeking solitude, Vasili was grateful, but wouldn’t show it.
There was only one place he could go where he would find the peace he was after. The library. The silence there would be welcome.
He pushed open the gilded door and stepped into the grandest library in all the Kingdom. It was a cavernous two-storey space, with rows upon rows of shelves, every single one packed with books of every colour and topic. Branching off the main space, with its gleaming marble floors, were passages to rooms and alcoves looking out over the palace gardens, where there were even more books. Frescoes in shades of pastel blue and pink covered the ceiling, drawing the eye up the gold-accented white walls.
There weren’t too many things Vasili was grateful to his forebears for, but this place was one. Even though he had rarely stepped into the library in the last few years, the colours in here always reminded him of the island itself. Of early mornings when the sky was painted in pink and blue with streaks of gold. When the turquoise waters were a siren’s call to all who looked upon them. White clouds in the sky and sand on the beach.
Except today he didn’t revel in all the ways he enjoyed this place. Today he just found a seat in a comfortable chair in a quiet corner and closed his eyes.
He prayed for just a little peace. His brother had died. He hadn’t been told if there was a body to recover. He hadn’t even gone back to his brother’s room to whisper a quiet goodbye. He was already being forced to move on. This entire institution was heartless. He had learned that at fifteen, but it seemed he was having to learn the lesson all over again.
Vasili was thankful that it was quiet. It was still early enough that the library was completely empty. He had no idea where the librarian was—was just happy that whoever it was had left him be.
But this was a day that was meant to test him, and what little peace he had hoped to get was shattered when the library doors were thrown open and in walked Andreas, followed by the communications secretary, Carissa.
Vasili groaned. His temper frayed further.
‘Your Majesty,’ Andreas said, dripping disapproval.
The man had served his father and brother, and was clearly unhappy that the crown would now fall to him. Vasili could see it.
‘You cannot simply walk away from this.’
‘Please, Your Majesty...’ Carissa tried a different tack.
A tall woman with straw-light hair, cut sharply along her jaw, impeccably clad in a dark tailored suit, she took the chair angled towards his and spoke to him in a tone he assumed must work wonders in getting anyone to do as she bid. But no amount of charm or authority would work on him. Not now.
‘Just listen,’ she said. ‘And then we can decide on a way forward that works for everyone.’
Vasili huffed. ‘For everyone?’
‘Of course, sir. We’re in a tough situation and we all want to do what’s best,’ Carissa said.
‘She’s right,’ a still-scowling Andreas agreed. ‘It’s imperative that you listen to us. You have to marry and produce heirs. King Leander didn’t do so quickly enough, and now the crown sits in a precarious position.’
Vasili tilted his head, studying the private secretary. ‘Let me guess...it’s my duty to save the monarchy?’
‘Of course it is. Thalonia needs its king,’ Andreas replied.
Vasili shook his head. Saving the system he had rebelled against his whole life—the very thing responsible for him being cast aside—was the last thing he wanted to do.
He was sorely tempted to let it all fall to ruin. One family didn’t make an entire kingdom. Besides, he hadn’t been enough at any point in his life before, so why should he be now? Vasili believed he was the very last person who should ever marry. He didn’t want marriage. Commitment wasn’t something he had ever considered. He much preferred losing himself in a beautiful woman who understood his needs. Knew that it was only for a night. That there would never be a future with him.
He was trying to escape the cage, not invite others to join him in it.
His mother had once called him a Lothario and Vasili would much rather wear that title than the title of King.
‘Clearly not just a king,’ Vasili all but growled.
Carissa cut Andreas off before he could utter whatever was brewing on his tongue. ‘We understand your trepidation, sir—’
‘I doubt that.’
She continued as if the new King had not interrupted her. ‘But we are here to help you take on this task. You can lean on us, and we can guide you through these changes.’
How weak did these people think he was? With their pretty words that blatantly told him they would try to control him.
‘And one such change is your lifestyle,’ Andreas chipped in. ‘Not just because it is unbecoming behaviour for the King, but because it would also be highly inappropriate when you wed.’
When?It had gone from something Vasili should do to an inevitability. As if his choices, his life, didn’t matter.
‘We can help you find an appropriate bride.’
‘What?’
Fire exploded in his veins. Andreas’s eyes widened at his low, icy tone. Anger burned through his grief, igniting every rebellious urge he had ever had. He wouldn’t be controlled. Wouldn’t be dictated to. If the old King and Queen hadn’t been able to control him, what made these people think that they could?
Marriage and children had never been on his radar, but if they wanted him to get married so badly it wouldn’t be to someone they deemed ‘appropriate’. Some generic royal who would be as selfish and self-obsessed as all the rest. No. He would do things on his own terms, exactly as he lived his life. Vasili couldn’t care less what Andreas and Carissa wanted. To him they represented all that was wrong with the entire institution of royalty.
Feeling every bit the recalcitrant prince he was known to be, Vasili once again rebelled against the system that he could never escape. He looked over their heads, defiance etched in every line on his face, and with teeth bared he ground out, ‘Fine. I’ll marry her.’
Both royal secretaries turned around in unison, to glance in the direction of the new King’s gaze, and found the librarian staring wide-eyed at the three of them, clearly having overheard the entire conversation.
‘Your Majesty...’ Andreas whipped back around, his face a mix of horror and frustration. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Andreas is right. You can’t marry the librarian. She isn’t an appropriate queen for the Kingdom,’ Carissa tried to reason with him.
Vasili stared hard at the communications secretary. ‘And just who would be an appropriate queen, exactly?’
‘You need to marry a noble. It’s tradition. Every consort in our history has been a royal in their own right. It projects the right image. Of strength and endurance. Please, you have to think of the throne.’
Carissa’s words were like kindling to flame. And the realisation that she had said the wrong thing was soon reflected in her eyes.
‘Are you questioning your king?’ Vasili challenged.
He didn’t have to raise his voice or stand over these two people he had quite honestly had enough of for one day. If he was now King, then they would see the kind of king he would be. Not one easily controlled or cowed.
Andreas looked horror-struck, as if the insinuation was the greatest insult. ‘Of course not. We would never second-guess the King. But it is my job to act as his closest advisor. I have done so for your father and your brother, and as such I have to say that this is not the best course of action. King Leander was to have married a princess in two weeks.’
‘Well, it seems that I need to remind you that I am not Leander. Nor will I ever be. It’s best that you heed that very important fact, Andreas,’ Vasili said smoothly.
‘Be that as it may, sir, she is a librarian.’ A puce tinge coloured his neck. ‘She may work at the palace, but she is a commoner, and never in the rich history of this kingdom has a commoner ever sat on the throne. Need I remind you of our heritage? Thalonia was named after Thalia, Queen Consort of the first King. A princess before that.’
‘Firstly, Andreas, I would mind my tone if I were you.’ Vasili rose gracefully from his chair to stand towering above Andreas and Carissa, who hastily got to her feet to show respect. ‘And secondly, there is a first time for everything. Your king has spoken.’
Vasili turned towards the librarian, still frozen at the counter. His eyes locked with hers. An arresting shade of turquoise, they widened in shock. Her heart must be beating a frantic tattoo—he could see the flutter of the pulse in her neck—but in that moment the world stood still. All that existed was him and her and nothing else.
A beat passed.
Maybe two.
Maybe an entire eon.
Then Vasili ripped his gaze away from hers and with his jaw clenched tightly, strode out of the library.
Helia tracked his movement, still rooted to the spot.
Her eyes were still locked on the door through which the new King had vanished.
‘What...?’ She whispered to herself in utter shock, her heart pounding furiously.
He couldn’t be serious! He had no idea who she was. Marry her? The utter insanity!
Yet her heart still beat frantically, its rhythm changing, thudding, as she remembered his eyes on her. He had never looked her way before, but in that moment Helia had felt as though he was looking into her soul. As if he could see the very essence of her. Those golden-brown eyes had been a trap. Ensnaring her. And for a heartbeat she would have given up her every secret to that look. It had excited her.
Which was an immensely ludicrous thought, even though it was one she wished were true. No one went from seeing a person for the first time—a person they had never noticed before—to choosing to marry them.
Prince Vasili was grieving. He had only just found out his brother was dead—from what she had overheard—so no one could possibly take him seriously. Could they? Of course, not. His advisors would probably rush after him and that would be that.
Helia thought back to when her father had died. Grief had clouded her every thought and she had only been a teenager back then. Surely Andreas would see that the King was not thinking straight. The King would need a moment to collect his thoughts and then he would speak to his advisors calmly and this whole crazy interaction would be forgotten.
She would be forgotten.
Whatever hope she’d had of him having seen her flared and died with that one logical thought—but at least she would have the memory of the one time King Vasili had seen her and how good it had felt.