It would kill him.
And as this realisation hit him his grandfather slid his Castle to Theseus’s Queen and knocked it over.
‘Your Queen is the heart of your game both in chess and in life,’ his grandfather said quietly. ‘Without her by your side your game will be poorer. Without her by your side...’ His eyes glistened with a sudden burst of ferocity as he growled, ‘Checkmate.’
* * *
There was a light knock on the door and then Nikos entered.
‘You said to tell you if anything significant occurred.’ He handed Theseus a piece of paper and left.
Theseus read it quickly. Then he read it again.
A ray of warmth broke through the chill that had lived in his veins for these past ten days. It trickled through him, lightly at first, then expanded until every single part of him was suffused with it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JO SLIPPED HER brown leather flip-flops off and dangled them from a finger, letting her toes sink into the warm Illyan sand.
She tilted her head back and breathed in the salty scent, feeling the light breeze play on her skin.
She stood there for ages, soaking it all in. There was no rush. No need to be anywhere or do anything.
There was only one place she wanted to visit.
She walked along the shore, the cool lapping waves bouncing over her feet and sinking between her toes, the May sun bright and inviting and heating her skin, driving out the coldness that had been in her bones since she’d left Agon a fortnight ago.
Her time on this island five years ago had been the happiest of her life. On this island she had lost her inhibitions, her virginity and her heart. And, for all the heartache, she wouldn’t trade a second of it.
Nothing much had changed in Illya. It was part of a cluster of rocky islands in the Adriatic, and the daily ferry was still the only means of getting to or from the mainland without a yacht, or a canoe and very strong arms. And Marin’s Bar was still the only bar on the south of the island.
Really, ‘bar’ was a loose term for what it was—a large wooden shack with a thatched roof and a kitchen stuck on at the back, surrounded by tiny chalets. Most people who found the island were real travellers, not university graduates like Jo, Jenna and Imogen, who had been there for a cheap couple of weeks in the sunshine.
She supposed one day it would change. Developers would get their tentacles on it. Maybe it would lose its charm. Maybe it wouldn’t. Change was often scary, but it didn’t have to be bad. She’d gone through a lot of change recently and it had made her stronger.
Soon she was standing at the front of the shack with her heart in her mouth, taking deep, steadying breaths.
No more tears. That was what she’d promised herself. No more. Even if today was the day she had been supposed to marry Theseus...
What was she even doing here?
Three days ago she’d dropped Toby off at preschool, then walked back along a busy shopping street. A travel agent’s window had been advertising trips to Korcula; another Croatian island.
Three days later and here she was. Back on Illya. Back in the same spot where she’d once watched Theseus play football on the beach with his Scandinavian friends.
The bar was empty, save for a blonde barmaid who greeted her with a friendly smile.
‘Is Marin here?’ Jo asked. She’d always liked the owner; an aging hippy with a pet Dalmatian that had a habit of falling asleep by customers’ feet. She’d lost count of the number of people she’d seen trip over him.
‘He’s gone out, but he’ll be back soon. Can I get you a drink?’
‘A lemonade, please.’
While the barmaid poured her drink Jo cast her eyes around. It was pretty much as she remembered it. The walls were covered with photos of the travellers who had passed through—hundreds and hundreds of pictures, crammed in every available bit of space. And the large noticeboard where people could leave messages for friends still hung above the jukebox.
Sipping at her lemonade, she gazed at the pictures, wondering if she would see any familiar faces...
There was one image that rooted her to the spot.
It was a picture of her and Theo, the night after he’d come to her rescue. Their glasses were raised, their cheeks pressed together and they were both poking their tongues out at the camera.
When had that been put up?
She reached out a shaking finger and traced their image. Together their faces formed a heart shape.
A roll of pain gushed through her, so powerful that she had to grip a table for support.