He reached the door to the secret passage which led to his apartment and looked at her one last time.
‘Just think—you will be a princess, agapi mou. That must go some way to mitigating the restrictions you will now face.’
‘Like being a prince has in any way mitigated the restrictions you live with?’ she countered pointedly, a tremor in her voice.
Eyes narrowed, he slowly inclined his head. ‘I learned, and you will learn too—fighting destiny is pointless. Embrace your new life. It’s the only way to survive it.’
* * *
Knowing there was no chance of falling back to sleep, Theseus took a long shower, hoping the steaming water would do something to soothe the darkness that had dragged him under after his dawn-lit talk with Jo.
He hoped she’d take his warnings to heart.
She was a dreamer like his mother. He’d seen it in her eyes when he’d told her not to fall in love with him and bluntly spelt out that he would never love her.
He had done it the way a cruel child might pick the wings off an injured fly. Except he’d taken no enjoyment in destroying her dreams.
Yes, she’d told him a lie, but listening to her explain how it had been for her had released more memories and he’d found himself feeling sickened. At himself.
He’d known she’d had feelings for him and had taken advantage of that because he hadn’t been able to cope with his grief alone. He had turned to the one person on the island he’d instinctively known would be able to give him comfort.
But he couldn’t forgive her for not telling him of his son sooner. They’d spent a week working closely together and all that time she’d been keeping something life-changing from him. No, that was a deception he would struggle ever to forgive.
Yet he would try. The only way they were going to endure spending the rest of their lives together would be through mutual respect. He needed to find a way to let the anger go, otherwise his bitterness towards her would nullify any respect.
At least making love to her and those few hours of snatched sleep had driven out much of the anger, allowing him to look at the situation with a fresh perspective.
He laughed bitterly. A fresh perspective? In less than twelve hours his whole life had changed. He’d learned he was a father. And soon—very soon—he would be a husband: a role he’d known was looming but which he had hoped to avoid a little longer...at least until after Helios had married Princess Catalina.
After years of silent dread at the thought of marrying and starting a family it turned out he had a ready-made one. He would laugh at the irony, but his humour had dried up over the past twenty-four hours.
After drying himself and dressing, he splashed cologne on his face and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He looked exactly like a man who had managed only two hours’ sleep.
He was surprised he’d managed even those. So many thoughts in his head had clamoured for attention, the loudest of which was trying to ensure the news of his son was kept secret for another two weeks. He had a good body of personal staff in his employ, whom he trusted implicitly, but, short of keeping Jo and Toby locked up there was nothing he could do to remove the danger that someone would see them and put two and two together.
God alone knew how his grandfather would react. Would the fact that his most wayward grandson had fathered a child out of wedlock and intended to marry a woman with minimal royal blood be another disappointment to add to the long list?
He closed his eyes, his brain burning as he recalled his grandfather’s words when Theseus had finally arrived back on Agon.
He’d gone straight to his grandmother’s room, knowing this would be his last goodbye. His grandfather had been alone with her, holding her hand.
He’d looked at him with eyes swimming with tears. ‘You’re too late.’
Too late?
He’d inched closer to the bed and, his heart in his mouth, had seen the essence which made life had gone.
He’d staggered back, reeling, while his grandfather had pulled himself to his feet and faced him. The King had aged a decade since he’d last seen him.
‘How could you not be here for her? She asked for you—many times—but you let her down again. And this time right at the moment she needed you the most. You disappointed her. I’m ashamed to call you my blood.’
It had been five years and still the words were as fresh to Theseus’s ears as they’d been back then.
He wanted them fresh.
He needed to remember how low he’d felt and how sickened he’d been with himself. It was what kept him focused when the walls of the palace threatened to close in on him and the urge in his heart for freedom beat too hard.