CHAPTER TWO

      WHEN KRYSTIANA WOKE the next morning, the first thing she did was reach over and turn off her night-light. It was an automatic thing—something she hardly noticed doing—but today when she did so she stared at it for a moment, wondering if Crown Prince Matteo had one too.

      For two years he’d been stuck in a cave. Was he now afraid of the dark?

      Throwing off the bedcovers, she got up and threw open the double doors to the sun terrace. The fragrant air poured in and she closed her eyes for a moment as the warm rays from the sun caressed her skin. This was what she loved about living here. The warmth. The colour. The heat. The beauty of this treasured isle.

      How fortunate that her aunt lived here. It had been exactly what she had needed after her experience at the hands of her father—to leave such an ugly existence behind and come to a place that only had beauty at its core. There had been a new language to learn, but wonderful, loving, passionate people to support her. New friends. A new life. Isla Tamoura had given her a new beginning, a new hope, and she loved it here so much.

      Krystiana took a quick shower and braided her long hair into its usual plait, donned a summery dress and sat down to eat the breakfast that had been brought in on a tray. She was used to eating breakfast alone. She quite enjoyed it. But this time, before her day started, she grabbed her pad and pencils and began sketching the view from her balcony. This afternoon she would be going home again, so there was no time to spare.

      Her sketch was vague. Outlines and shapes. She would fill in the colour later, allowing her imagination to take flight. She took a couple of quick photos using her phone.

      She almost lost track of time, and when she did glance at her watch she saw there were only a few minutes until nine o clock—her scheduled time to give the Prince his yearly physical. She left her pad and pencil on the bed, finished her orange juice and then pulled the sash to call Sergio. She wasn’t sure exactly where in the palace the examination would take place.

      Sergio arrived, looking as perfectly presented as always. ‘Good morning, Dr Szenac. I hope you slept well?’

      ‘Very well, Sergio, thank you. I have my appointment with His Highness Prince Matteo, to start his physical, but I’m not sure where I have to go.’

      He nodded. ‘I believe you are expected in the private gym. Dr Bonetti always carries out the yearly check-ups there.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She’d had no idea the palace had its own gym—but, then again, why wouldn’t it? Matteo and his family could hardly pop out to the local leisure centre if they wanted to lift a few weights, could they?

      Sergio led her through the palace, down long tapestry-filled hallways, past vast vases so big she could have climbed inside and not been seen even standing upright. They passed a coat of arms, a suit of armour, and fireplaces filled with flowers, until he brought her to a set of double doors.

      ‘The gym, Dr Szenac. All of Dr Bonetti’s equipment has been laid out for you, and the computer has been set up for you to enter the results of each test for the record.’

      ‘Thank you—that’s very kind.’

      ‘The computer isn’t likely to be difficult, but if you do have any queries we have an IT expert on hand.’

      ‘That’s marvellous.’

      Sergio smiled and opened the doors.

      The gym was filled with all types of equipment—treadmills, stair-masters, weight machines, free-standing weights, workout equipment, yoga mats. Anything and everything seemed to be here, and one wall was made of glass that revealed a room beyond filled with a full-length swimming pool.

      Pretty impressive!

      But she didn’t have time to linger. The Prince would be here at any moment and she wanted to be prepared.

      She was running her eye over what she needed to achieve today, reminding herself of the assessments, when she became aware of a presence behind her.

      ‘Dr Szenac.’

      She turned and bowed slightly. ‘Your Highness.’

      ‘I’m ready, if you are?’

      Smiling, she nodded. ‘Absolutely. Ready to begin with the basics? I’ll need to do blood pressure, pulse and SATs.’

      ‘Perfect.’

      ‘All right. Take a seat.’

      She began to set up her equipment—the pulse oximeter that she’d place on his finger to measure not only his pulse but the oxygen levels in his blood, and the arm cuff around his upper arm that would measure his blood pressure.

      His basic measurements were perfect. Exactly what she’d expected them to be.

      ‘Okay, now I need to check your height and weight.’

      ‘I don’t think I’ve shrunk.’

      She smiled. ‘Glad to hear it.’

      Again, his weight was perfect for his height.

      ‘Now I’d like to set you up for a treadmill test. I’ll need to attach you to a breathing tube, so we can measure oxygen intake, heart-rate and lung capacity whilst you run up a slight incline for three minutes.’

      He nodded. ‘Can I warm up first?’

      ‘By all means.’

      She looked at his previous measurements and typed them into the computer, aware that Matteo was stripping off behind her and beginning to stretch.

      When she turned around she noted that he was in excellent physical shape. Clearly he used the gym often to keep fit. His muscle tone was almost beautiful. His figure was sculpted, without being overly worked. It seemed almost wrong to look at him and admire him like that. Not least because he was a prince.

      ‘Right, I need to attach these electrodes, if that’s okay?’

       Does my voice sound weird?

      He stood still whilst she attached the electrodes to his chest and body, trying her hardest not to make eye contact, then attached the wires that hooked him up to the machine for a reading. She fastened a breathing mask around his nose and mouth, and suddenly there was that eye contact thing.

      She could feel herself blushing. ‘Okay... For the first minute I want you just to walk at a steady pace and then, when I tell you, I’m going to increase the speed and I want you to jog.’

      ‘All right.’

      ‘Ready?’

      He gave her a thumbs-up and she started the treadmill and the EKG monitor that would read his heart’s electrical activity. The machine began printing out on a paper roll and she watched it steadily, keeping a careful eye out for any issues, but it all looked fine.

      She glanced up at him as he ran with a steady pace, his body like a well-oiled machine as he tackled the jog easily. His oxygen intake was perfect; his heart-rate was elevated, but not too much.

      When the three minutes were over she switched everything off and then laid a hand on his wrist to check his pulse. She felt it pounding away beneath her fingertips and kept count, then made a note