Chapter 1

Nicki Clark inched her fingers along the thick ridge of the stone wall, grateful as always that the capital city of O?ros had a deep and abiding love for ornamental frescoes over every door, window and empty roofline. She hadn't tried escaping the palace at this particular point before, but the descent so far had been easy.

Getting down the last several feet would be more of a trick.

"One…two…" she muttered, planting her right foot solidly as she eased her way down. She didn't have to jump the entire distance, not yet. The wall was smoother below this point, but it was nevertheless hewn out of thousands-year-old chunks of stone. She could keep going for at least another yard, then drop. Her shoes were sturdy and her grip strong. Besides, she'd already done this a dozen times since she'd first been trapped inside the gilded palace of O?ros like a caged lion.

She shimmied downward, her heart rate picking up. She'd only glimpsed this specific four feet of wall from down the alley when she'd been out shopping the day before with Emmaline, Frani, and Lauren. It'd looked promising, but the space below her was currently hung with early morning shadows, and she couldn't see beyond the next small jut of stone.

She swung a foot out experimentally?—

And nearly fell off the wall when it was forcibly stopped by someone's hard grasp. A grasp that was infuriatingly familiar.

Nicki gave her foot a hard shake. "Back off, Stefan."

The diplomatic ambassador of the royal family of O?ros—and hello, a demigod, whatever the hell that meant—held fast.

"If you insist on clambering over walls to escape the confines of the royal palace, you should at least do a better job picking your locations," Stefan said in his cool, superior voice. When he wanted, like now, he could speak English without so much as a trace of the thick accent she'd heard him use when he spoke his native tongue. As usual, she wished he would stick to O?rois so she didn't have to listen to his complaints about every detail of her existence.

"So far as I can tell, there's nothing beneath me but you. And if you have your hand on my foot, it's not a far drop. So go away."

"I'll catch you."

Nicki took a moment to rest her head against the cool stone. Solid rock was more reasonable than Stefan when he got that tone. She knew it well, having heard it virtually every time they'd spoken in the past few weeks. From practically the first time they'd met during Emmaline's epic falling-in-love-with-a-fairytale-prince adventure, he'd formed completely pointless and aggravating opinions about what was appropriate for her. Which would have been nervy enough, except the guy wasn't exactly in a position to judge.

Still, judge he did. Worse, rather than moving on to torment one of the other women of their group, Stefan had fixated on her. He constantly dogged her steps, showing up every time she'd thought she'd fled the palace, berating her every decision from running routes to climbing gear.

She knew he wasn't going to go away. And if she was honest, she didn't want him to—not entirely. First off, the guy was seriously easy on the eyes, at least when he wasn't irritating the crap out of her. Secondly, she'd recently learned from a breathless and starry-eyed Emmaline that the kingdom of O?ros wasn't just your average fairytale kingdom set in a Mediterranean paradise, but something straight up out of a freaking Greek myth, with Olympic gods and a gateway to Olympus and nymphs and tridents and demigods. That information ratcheted up Stefan several degrees on her interest-o-meter.

Emmaline was absolutely sure Stefan was a demigod—but a demigod of what, exactly—or who? Apollo? No, Stefan was too sneaky. Poseidon? Meh. He possessed not a single tattoo. Nicki was pretty sure tattoos were a requirement of any demigod of Poseidon.

Was there a Greek god of condescension? Now that was a possibility.

Either way, questions, she had them. And this seemed like a good time to start asking.

"Fine." Without any further warning, Nicki kicked her foot free of Stefan's hold and pushed away from the wall. He was expecting the movement, and he caught her easily, dropping her lightly to her feet.

As usual, the touch of Stefan's hands on Nicki's arms electrified her. How had he found her so early, though? The sun was barely up over the ridgeline of the mountains ringing this seaside idyll, and the O?rois weren't known for being early risers, other than the fishermen.

Stefan wasn't dressed for fishing.

She took in his hard body encased in long spandex shorts and a short-sleeved racing top, the outfit doing nothing to hide the fact that he had muscles on top of muscles, for all that he cut an aristocratically slender figure in a tuxedo. He couldn't be planning on running with her, either—she'd told no one she was going to attempt this particular avenue of escape.

But Stefan had known, apparently. He always seemed to know. The bastard.

The bastard in question remained way too close to Nicki as she drew in an unsteady breath, his gaze raking her face. She stared back, taking the opportunity to memorize the man's impossibly beautiful features—light-colored hair and honey-tanned skin, piercing gray-blue eyes, angled cheeks and hard jaw. He was quite a few years older than the other members of the royal family she'd met—Prince Kristos was maybe twenty-six, and Dimitri, the captain of the country's security force, appeared to be about the same age. But Stefan looked like he'd seen some things. She clocked him at thirty-five years old, easy. He was quick, competent, experienced—and someone who could take care of himself.

That pretty much made him perfect in Nicki's book. But that book might as well be a fairy tale, because eventually, she would escape this royal city with her friends in tow and get back on their trip through Europe. By then, Stefan would be only a memory.

She wanted him to be a fantastic memory, though. Which meant he needed to stop judging her every chance he could.

No dice. "You're breathing too fast," he informed her tersely. "What's wrong?"

"You're blocking all the oxygen in this alley." Nicki stepped back, already changing her mind about interrogating the guy. Demigod or not, right now, she just wanted to ditch him. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"It wasn't too difficult." He smirked. "You've escaped via nearly every other likely avenue in the palace. Your itinerary yesterday suggested you'd be walking through the old city, which would have afforded you a view of this wall." He gestured down the cobblestoned street. The courtyard where they'd shopped yesterday for yet another round of wedding paraphernalia for Emmaline and Prince Kristos was less than a hundred feet away.

"You had someone spying on me?" she demanded. "One of the guards?"

Stefan drew up to his full six foot two inches, which put him nearly a foot taller than her, and Nicki rolled her eyes. She wasn't a huge fan of her height, but it did allow her to be light and quick. She was also wiry enough to shimmy over walls, up trees and through tight spots that most people couldn't manage.

None of that helped her right now, however, as Stefan loomed. "I didn't need to have anyone spying on you," he said, his voice taking on the clipped edge she enjoyed provoking so much. "You're a guest of the royal family of O?ros. As such, your safety is our number one concern."

"Got it."

Without any further warning, Nicki took another step and turned sharply away, her feet digging into the cobblestones as she launched herself down the narrow alley. Stefan immediately gave chase, but not ten steps away, Nicki saw what she thought she'd glimpsed earlier—another alley, barely wide enough for a child to scrape through.

She dove into the tight corridor and grinned as Stefan shouted something filthy-sounding in O?rois. He took off again down the main alley, though, and she knew she wouldn't have much time. The city was riddled with these tiny passages, but they all eventually ended up dumping either into the main courtyard of the town or one of the smaller streets that led to the sea.

She bet Stefan would pick the courtyard—Nicki had run on the beach twice already this week, and she typically mixed things up more than that. Which Stefan would know, because, despite his demigodly outrage, he totally had been spying on her.

The moment she cleared the narrow space, Nicki turned in the opposite direction, jumping over short walls and skirting fountains and public wells, the quaint architecture of the city blurring by her as she raced through more streets and down additional narrow walkways. She had traversed the capital city of O?ros way too many times to count, and she had an affinity for directions and maps and knowing where she was quickly and certainly. That skill had served her well in her job, and it definitely helped today as she sought to shake her most persistent tail.

She succeeded.

Laughing as the full brunt of the Mediterranean sun hit her, Nicki burst out of the last little cluster of buildings and onto the wide, fine sand of O?ros's famed Royal Beach. Had they really been stuck here two full weeks? This morning, it felt like she was seeing it all for the first time.

She fairly flew by a collection of fishing nets and headed straight for the packed sand at the water's edge, which would definitely be easier on her ankles. Her gaze filled with the gorgeous blue-green Aegean Sea, and she drew in a deep, cleansing breath, tasting the salt and sun and heat. She had the whole beach to herself, and she bent into her run, mentally choosing her destination as?—

A sudden weight thudded against her right shoulder. It wasn't enough to down her, certainly not enough to cause pain, but a thick drape of fisherman's net had somehow wrapped its way around her body and was everywhere. She turned, then turned again as she fought to get herself free. While cresting a small dune, she saw the flash of Stefan's running shirt too late as the man leapt toward her.

"Got you—" he crowed. Then his arms were around her, and the two of them were rolling in the thick sand, the net somehow growing to three times its normal size as she fought to escape.

"Don't move—don't move!" Stefan laughed. "You'll only make it worse."

But she couldn't make it worse—she couldn't.

Because Stefan was lying on top of her…and her heart felt like it was about to explode.