ON A sun-kissed afternoon in early November the Crowns of Khryseis were bestowed on Zoe and on Stefanos.

Crown Princess Zoe of Khryseis was seated on a throne too large for her. Her dress was pure fantasy. She looked adorable. She looked very, very scared.

Only the fact that her cousin was standing right beside her gave her the courage to stay. Stefanos, Prince Regent of Khryseis, the Isle of Gold, had vowed to defend his little cousin, care for her and cherish her and take care of her interests until she reached twenty-five years of age.

Stefanos looked magnificent. Zoe looked exquisite.

Elsa was looking not too bad herself, she conceded, thinking what a waste, why spend all this money on her fabulous gown if her nose was about to turn red? But she was fighting tears, and Crown Princess Lily of Sappheiros glanced sideways at her and smiled and passed over a handkerchief.

‘This is dumb,’ Elsa whispered, embarrassed. ‘I shouldn’t be here in the front row with you. I’m not even royalty.’

‘Hey, I’ve only been royalty for a couple of months now,’ Lily said. ‘And, from what I’ve heard, you’re even closer to Zoe than Stefanos.’

Elsa sniffed. The Archbishop was watching Stefanos sign before his little cousin now. It looked so official. It looked like another world.

She could have been up there. Beaming and waving and being royal too. As Stefanos’s wife.

Her reasons for refusing him were sounding weaker and weaker. It was just as well he hadn’t proposed again, she thought. Any pressure and she might well cave right in.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ Lily whispered thoughtfully, watching Elsa’s face.

‘He is.’ She looked dubiously at the handkerchief. ‘I need to blow my nose.’

‘Go right ahead,’ Lily said grandly. ‘I came supplied with hankies in bulk. They’re monogrammed with the royal crest.’

Elsa nearly dropped it. Lily giggled and suddenly Elsa was smiling again, albeit through tears. What was royalty but individuals doing the best they could? The vows that Zoe and Stefanos had just made…They weren’t taking them away from her. Or no further than they already were. And she was right not to join them. Her doubts still stood.

The signing was done. The orchestra was starting its triumphant chorus, a blaze of sound proclaiming that Khryseis finally had its own royal family.

Stefanos helped Zoe to her feet. Zoe stood, looking out nervously at the vast audience in front of her.

Stefanos held her hand, stooped and whispered to her.

Zoe stared up at him, then out at the people in front of her. And then, at a signal from Stefanos, the music suddenly died.

Zoe took a deep breath. She turned back to Stefanos, as if for approval of something prearranged, and she looked straight at Elsa.

‘I need my Elsa,’ she said in a high, clear voice. ‘Elsa, can you come up and walk beside me?’

‘Quick, blow,’ Lily muttered urgently. ‘And your nose isn’t even red. You’re beautiful.’


He walked out of the cathedral behind them. Zoe and Elsa. His little cousin and her beautiful guardian.

Elsa’s eyes were looking distinctly watery. He wasn’t surprised. His eyes were feeling distinctly watery too.

Elsa should be walking by his side. It felt wrong.

He’d rushed it. He’d pushed her too hard, too fast, ripping her out of her comfort zone, asking the world of her and then asking her to extend that world.

Zoe was happy again. She’d been coached with care and kindness, and she knew exactly what was expected of her today. Elsa had raised her beautifully, he thought. When she’d spoken her responses it had been with the gravity of one twice her age. So much of that was down to Elsa’s care, her constant assurances that Zoe was beautiful, that the scars and the pain were only skin deep and what was underneath was beauty and joy.

If he’d got it right he could have been walking down the aisle with Elsa, with Zoe between them.

He’d messed it up-badly.

But he had time, he thought. He could try again.

Only Elsa was right. His doubts about what he was doing were still there.

Khryseis needed him.

His work in Manhattan was still calling.

Elsa had the courage to change direction and move steadily forward. He kept glancing back.

Elsa knew him better than he knew himself. And, knowing him, she had the sense not to want to be his wife.


‘Isn’t Stefanos beautiful?’ Zoe was so close to sleep she could barely form words, but she’d stayed until the last speech had been made, she’d sat attentive and courteous, and Elsa was so proud of her she was close to bursting. But now she’d retired to Elsa’s knee for a hug, the hug had turned into a cradling cuddle and it was clear the little girl just wanted to drift off to sleep.

They were watching Stefanos say farewell to the dignitaries. Stefanos as they’d first seen him, only grander.

‘I don’t have to be scared of being a princess when he’s here,’ Zoe whispered. ‘I wish he wasn’t going away.’

‘Me, too,’ Elsa whispered. For what the heck; there was no point in lying, not even to herself.

‘Do you think he’ll come and live with you and me for ever and ever?’

‘He’s said he will. Maybe not with us but near us.’

‘That’s good,’ Zoe whispered, her whisper fading so that Elsa could hardly hear. ‘But I’ll miss him and miss him. And so will Buster.’

‘And so will I,’ Elsa told her and watched her close her eyes and drift off into sleep. ‘I think I might miss him so much I might have to think about changing direction all over again.’


Only of course there was no time for direction changing. No opportunity. No chance.

A call came through that night. Stefanos needed to be in New York within twenty-four hours.

There were so many things to do, documents to sign, authority to delegate…He moved as fast as he could. Elsa woke at dawn to a light tap on her door and it was Stefanos, come to say goodbye.

She stood at her bedroom door in her lovely new lingerie, feeling shocked, bereft and stupidly frightened.

‘You will come back?’ she murmured. She must have sounded needy for Stefanos took her hands in his and tugged her into his arms before she could resist.

‘Of course I’ll be back. I’ll be here by Christmas.’

He was as she loved him most, in his casual jeans, an old leather jacket slung over his shoulder, unshaven, a man in a hurry. ‘Hell, Elsa, I wish I didn’t have to go. But these kids…I can’t knock them back.’

‘I so wish you could work from here.’

‘And we both know that I can’t.’

‘Of course.’ The population of Khryseis could never support the medical facilities this man needed.

‘You’ll keep Zoe safe. And our turtles. And Buster.’

‘I promise.’

‘Christmas in Australia’s hot, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You think we can do an Australian Christmas dinner?’

‘Amy’s Christmas Cake,’ she said before she thought about it.

‘Amy’s cake?’

This was crazy. Standing in her bare feet, talking to a man she loved with all her heart about her best friend’s cake.

‘It’s a berry ice cream cake,’ she said. ‘Amy was so proud of it-it was a tradition started by the women in her family who couldn’t bear a hot Christmas pudding. She’d start a month before Christmas, finding berries, then building layer upon layer of berry ice cream, each layer a different flavour. By Christmas we might have ten layers. Then we’d turn it out and decorate it with more berries. She’d make a berry coulis to pour over. It was so big sometimes it’d last until well into January.’

‘So you make it every year?’

‘Not…’ She hesitated. ‘Not since Amy died. Berries are expensive.’

‘I see,’ he said gravely and took her hands in his. ‘Then here’s my royal decree. You use the royal card again to buy as many berries as you need-import them, grow them-whatever you have to do to get them, you get them, and make us Amy’s Christmas Cake. And we’ll eat it well into January.’ He was smiling into her eyes and his smile might as well be a kiss. And…she felt like crying.

‘Is there anything you want me to bring from New York?’ he said, maybe seeing her need to be practical, to get over the emotion. As if she could.

‘Come home via Australia and bring me my cats,’ she said, trying desperately to joke. ‘I miss them.’

‘It’s a bit of a detour.’

‘You’re the Prince Regent.’

‘So I am,’ he said and smiled his crooked, heart-flipping smile, then stood looking down at her for a long, long moment as his smile faded. A door slammed below stairs, someone called to him and he swore.

‘I have to go. Will you say goodbye to Zoe for me? I can’t wake her yet.’

‘Of course I will. Travel safe.’ She smiled. ‘I was teasing about the cats.’

‘I know you were.’ He gave an almost imperceptible nod, as though her cats and his safety were inconsequential. As if there was something more important he’d decided to say. ‘Elsa…’

‘Just go.’

‘I will,’ he said, but instead he tugged her close and she had neither strength nor will to resist. He pulled her tight into his arms, against his chest, and he kissed her, hard and long and aching with need.

And then he put her away from him.

‘G…go,’ she managed.

‘I love you,’ he said, loudly and strongly into the morning.

But still he turned. And he went.


She wanted to sob. Or maybe something louder. She’d actually quite like to stomp a bit. Toss the odd pillow.

Yell.

But Zoe and Buster were fast asleep. She should be, too. What else was she to do?

She needn’t worry about breakfast. It would be on the table in a couple of hours, a choice of eight or so dishes, eat what you like and certainly don’t worry about the cost.

She was Zoe’s friend and guardian, only Zoe already had a friend. After Christmas Zoe would try the little school that stood just by the castle gates. What was a woman to do then?