One good thing to come out of the mess this day had turned into was the news from Theseus, who had gone tearing after Jo, the mother of his child, a couple of days ago. The fool had realised when it was almost too late that he truly did love her, and luckily it seemed Jo loved him too and had agreed to marry him.
No coercion, no thoughts of duty. They were marrying for love. Helios had never heard his brother sound so happy.
Both his brothers were marrying.
As Talos—who was marrying his violinist—had chosen someone not of royal blood, any child he had would not be in the line of succession to the throne, but Toby, Theseus’s beautiful son, had already secured the throne for the next generation. Until Helios’s own children were born.
Helios sighed and got to his feet. ‘I need to change for dinner.’
He wished he could pull out of it, but it was a matter of honour amongst his family that personal matters never got in the way of duty. And this dinner was duty.
Nausea fermented in him as he remembered that Catalina would be attending. She was already there in the palace. He still couldn’t bring himself to call her.
As much as he wanted to, there wasn’t time to make a diversion to Amy’s apartment and check that she was okay. Instead he fired off a quick message to her before showering and changing into his dinner jacket. He put his cufflinks on during his walk to the designated dining room for the evening, his courtiers struggling to keep up with his long strides.
Forcing bonhomie, Helios plastered a smile on his face and entered the dining room, where the delegation was waiting for him. Catalina was already there, holding court like a professional. When she saw him she excused herself to join him.
If she really did suspect him and his relationship with Amy, she covered it well.
‘I understand your grandfather is unwell?’ she said quietly.
‘He’s been better.’ It was all he could bring himself to answer with.
Why couldn’t he feel anything for her? Here was a beautiful, compassionate woman of royal blood and all he felt when she touched him was cold.
He tried again, using a milder tone of voice. ‘He has an infection.’
She smiled sympathetically. ‘I hope he recovers quickly.’
‘So do I.’
But he didn’t hold out much hope. These past five months had been a battle to keep him alive long enough for him to see the Gala. That was all his grandfather had been focusing on. Now, with the Gala over, his grandsons all paired off and the succession to the throne secured, King Astraeus was preparing to die.
His duty was done. His grandfather wanted to be with the woman he’d loved for his entire adult life.
And Amy had said she loved him.
Helios wished he could unhear those words.
What kind of selfish monster was he to tie her to him when he knew doing so was destroying her?
It was possibly the longest meal of his life. For once, the power of speech had deserted him. He couldn’t think of a single witty remark or any of the tales that usually had guests enthralled.
Throughout the meal disquiet grew within him, a foreboding which came upon him from an unseen direction.
As soon as the coffee had been cleared away he cleared his throat. ‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, but I need to retire for the evening. I know I haven’t been very good company this evening—I think exhaustion has crept up on me—but be assured that I am very impressed with everything you’ve told me and will give my recommendation to the committee early next week.’
When he’d finished speaking he glanced at Catalina. She was staring at him with a cool, thoughtful expression.
It took fifteen minutes, time spent saying goodnight to everyone individually, before he was finally able to leave the dining room.
Catalina made no effort to follow him.
The disquiet in his chest grew with every step he took towards his apartment. By the time he reached his door and was able to shake off the courtiers, perspiration had broken out on his brow and his pulse had surged.
He headed straight down the passageway and rapped on Amy’s connecting door.
No answer.
He banged again, louder.
No answer.
‘Amy?’ he shouted, pounding on the door with his fist.
On impulse he tried the handle, even though Amy always kept the door locked...
The door opened.
His heart thundering painfully beneath his ribs, he stepped into her apartment.
‘Amy?’ he called into the silence.
His heart knew before his head could comprehend it.
On legs weighted down with lead, he stepped into her bedroom.
The room was spotless. And empty.
All that lay on the dressing table, which was usually heaped with cosmetics and bottles of perfume, was a large padded envelope he recognised as the one he’d given to her all those weeks ago, containing the jewellery he’d bought her. Next to it lay a scrap of paper. Written on it were two words.
Forgive me.
* * *
‘You look troubled, Helios,’ his grandfather said, in the wheezing voice Helios hated so much.
They were playing chess, his grandfather’s favourite game. The King was in his wheelchair, an oxygen tank to his right, a nurse set back a little to his left.
‘I’m just tired.’ Helios moved a pawn two spaces forward, unable to stop his stomach curdling with the fear that this might be the last game they played together.
‘How are the wedding preparations going?’
‘Well.’
Not that he was having anything to do with them. The palace staff were more than capable of handling it without his input. And without Catalina, who seemingly had as much interest in the preparations as he had. None at all.
His grandfather placed the oxygen mask on his face for a minute, before indicating for the nurse to take it off.
‘I remember my own wedding day well.’ The misty eyes grew mistier. ‘Your grandmother looked like an angel sent from heaven.’ Then the old eyes sharpened. ‘Your mother looked beautiful on her wedding day too. It is my eternal sorrow that your father couldn’t see her beauty. Your mother was beautiful, inside and out.’
Helios’s spine stiffened. His parents’ marriage was a subject they rarely touched upon other than in the most generic terms.
‘The biggest regret of my life—and your grandmother’s, rest her soul—was that your father couldn’t choose his own wife. Would it have made a difference if he’d been able to choose?’ He raised a weak, bony shoulder. ‘We will never know. Despite our best efforts he was a vain and cruel man. He thrived on power. Your mother didn’t stand a chance.’
He moved his castle forward with a quivering, gnarled finger.
‘We pushed through the changes in law that would allow you and your heirs to select your own spouses in the hope that your parents’ marriage would never be repeated.’ His voice weakening with each word he said, the King turned his gaze to Helios again. ‘However important duty is, marriage to someone you feel no affection for can only bring misery. And for ever is a long time to be miserable.’
The nurse, attuned to his weakening, placed the oxygen mask back over his face.
Helios waited for him to inhale as much as he needed, all the time his mind was reeling over what it was, exactly, that his grandfather was trying to tell him. Was it a reproach that he wasn’t spending enough time with Catalina and that his indifference to her was showing?
But how could he feel anything but indifference when his head was still consumed with thoughts of Amy? She’d left the palace a week ago but she was still everywhere.
He moved his knight, then opened his mouth to pose the question, only to find his grandfather’s head had lolled to one side and he’d dozed off mid-game and mid-conversation.
He looked at the nurse, who raised her shoulders sympathetically. Helios exhaled and gazed at his sleeping grandfather, a huge wave of love washing through him.
Whatever his grandfather had tried to tell him, it could wait.
‘I’ll put him to bed tonight,’ he told the nurse, whose eyes immediately widened in fright.
‘It’s okay,’ he assured her with a wry smile. ‘I know what I’m doing. You can supervise if you want.’
Half an hour later the King was in his bed, his medication having been given and the oxygen mask attached to his face. His gentle snores were strangely calming.
Helios placed a kiss to his grandfather’s forehead. ‘I love you,’ he said, before leaving him to sleep.
* * *
Movement beside her woke Amy from the light doze she’d fallen into. Since returning to England a week ago she’d slept a lot. She liked sleeping. It was the perfect route to forgetting. It was waking that was the problem.
Her mum handed her a cup of tea and sat in the deckchair next to her.
When she’d returned to England she’d given the taxi driver directions to her childhood home rather than the flat she shared in central London. Sometimes a girl just needed her mum. Her real mum. The woman who’d loved and raised her since she’d barely been able to open her eyes.
And her mum had been overjoyed to see her.
Amy’s last lingering doubts had been well and truly banished.
A late-night confession between them had culminated with the admission that her mum had been terrified that Amy would forge a relationship with Neysa.
‘Never,’ Amy had said with a firm shake of her head. ‘You’re my mum. Not her.’
‘Good.’ Ferocity had suddenly flashed in her mum’s usually calm eyes. ‘Because you’re my daughter. Not hers.’