It was high on the hillside, in a forested glade, with the tumbling river surrounded by evergreens on all sides. They sat side by side on a ledge of rock with their clothing hoisted up and bare legs dangling over the void, feeling the rays of the sun on their cheeks and the waterfall’s fine spray coating their bodies. Together they watched the powerful torrent above them, pounding relentlessly at the pool they were sitting above. Though it was only spring and the water in the pool was undoubtedly cold, the day was hot enough that the sensation of moisture was pleasant.

‘Phalesia will always be my favorite city, but we have nothing to compare with the natural beauty you have here.’

‘Always, lady?’ Dion asked with a grin.

‘Well, perhaps I could come to love Xanthos also.’ She smiled.

‘It’s very different from Phalesia. No voting. No Assembly of Consuls. How do you feel about the citizens having no say?’

‘Is that how it is with you?’ she asked with a twinkle in her eye. ‘The citizens have no say?’

He laughed. ‘Fair point. We have guilds and temples, merchants and landowners. All make themselves heard, one way or another.’

‘Yet you play no games and tell no lies,’ she said. ‘Democracy can be a dirty business.’

For a moment Dion remembered Aristocles, a man who fought bravely for what he believed in. ‘But there is nobility also. Your father. I’m sure he’s a good man.’

A darkness appeared in her eyes. ‘He . . . Yes, of course he is. But he sometimes has to play along with the rest of them. Now,’ she said, ‘let’s talk about something other than my father.’

‘I have an idea.’ Dion’s eyes connected with hers and for a time neither of them spoke. His heart began to pound in his chest and his breath came short. He leaned toward her, coming in close, but giving her a chance to back away if she wanted to.

But Isobel smiled and tilted her head. Dion knew then that it was going to happen.

His lips pressed against hers. The kiss didn’t last long before she broke it off and laughed. ‘Is that what they call talking in Xanthos?’

‘Sometimes there are better ways to communicate than with words.’

Her eyes were sparkling as she leaned in again. ‘Then perhaps we should talk some more.’

Isobel and her father, Philippos, walked together along Xanthos’s sandy beach. The sound of the waves breaking on the shore covered their conversation. There was no chance of being overheard.

‘I don’t like these games,’ Isobel said.