He was nothing like her father.
The palace became a place where adults had conversations in low, angry voices. Where everyone looked over their shoulders and scuttled about their business. Where children were not to be seen or heard. No sneaking into the library to look at the pictures in the encyclopaedias. No bringing their dolls to have tea in the kitchen.
No playing in the gardens.
One of her uncle’s men caught her coming down from a tree one afternoon. She’d been cloud-gazing, but the sun was starting to set, and her belly was grumbling. Grabbed roughly by the arm, the princess was hauled to her uncle’s study.
“Show her what happens to little girls who dally in places they’re not meant to be!” her uncle commanded. And since he was the king of her father’s empire now, his word was law.
She was dragged, crying and pleading, back into the darkening garden, past the tree she’d been sitting in all day until they reached the river.
Shoved forwards, she hit the icy water with a splash. It was not shallow enoughfor a girl of six. She’d never been in any water but her bath and the heated pool inside the palace, with her floatation devices always on.
The cold shocked her, and she gasped. Water rushed into her mouth. She thrashed and found the surface to suck in a desperate breath before the water tugged her under once more.
Panic was like electricity, zapping every pore of her being, but no matter how hard she fought, she could not keep her head above the water for long enough to breathe.
The princess was dragged out, tossed onto the bank, coughing and gasping and vomiting river water, her eyes streaming. She wanted her mother, but Mother never came out of her room anymore.
She wanted her father … but Father was gone, replaced by her evil uncle.
“This is what happens when you poke your nose around places you aren’t welcome,” the man who had almost drowned her spat. “Let that be a lesson to you.”
It was a lesson, but it turned out to be a very different one than her uncle had intended …
CHAPTER THREE
Little Exhibitionist
IRINA
The Sydney University women’s student athletes were getting out of the pool when I arrived. All eight of them, tugging off their caps and goggles, dripping on the pool deck as they headed for their towels. I eyed them defiantly as I dropped my bag onto a chair poolside, stripping out of my sundress. Underneath, I was wearing my university swim club speedos. Finley Williams, their captain, rolled her eyes before turning her back on me, muttering something to one of the other girls, who giggled back like the little suck-up she was.
Finley hated me because I broke her club record in the women’s 200 metre freestyle—during training, which royally pissed her off. Plus, at the last UniSport meet, I was selected for the university’s freestyle relay team over her.
I hated Finley right back—I coveted what she’d enjoyed for the last four years. Her entire degree was paid for by her student athlete scholarship. She was given the flexibility to fit her class schedule around training and race meets. She had a future in representing the country she loved in the sport she adored, while international students like me weren’t eligible for athletic scholarships. Bernard Hayes, the swimming head coach, resented the stupid rule almost as much as I did. He waspissed that he couldn’t have me on his student athlete squad, and he’d been vocal about it more than once.
Which only gave Finley another reason to hate me.
“She bothering you?” my ex-coach Simone asked as I adjusted my goggles, ready to hop in and begin a warm-up set.
I shook my head. “Since when have I ever been bothered by her jealous bullshit?”
Simone smiled and patted me on the back. “Kickboard first, then we’ll switch to the pull-buoy, really give those arms a workout before we do some proper training.”
I blinked. “Uh, Simone, not sure if you got the memo, but I’m actually a graduate now.”
“Congratulations!” Simone said with a sly smile. “Now, kickboard.”
“But that means I’m no longer competing with the university swim club. I’m just here as a casual member now.”
“So? I have a spare hour, and I want to coach you.” Simone tossed the kickboard into the pool. “I mean, am I resentful that Romania is going to absolutely slam our Aussie swimmers in women’s freestyle at the next Olympics? Fuck yes. But will I be secretly cheering you on? Also, fuck yes!”
I managed what I hoped wasn’t a grimace, slipping into the water and dragging the board towards me. If Simone wanted to spend an hour of her own time focusing on my training, I was going to make the most of it. She didn’t need to know that my Olympic dreams were dead in the water, since I had no intention of being in Romania to qualify, let alone compete, ever again.
Pushing that depressing thought from my mind, for the next hour I focused only on my stroke, my speed and my power in the water. And it did help me to forget my dire situation for a little while.
When I got out of the water, my muscles were buzzing with the pleasant ache of having worked hard, and Simone was beaming at me.
