She glanced at her father, trying to read his expression. He could be quick to anger, and she’d known him to hold onto his wrath for an eternity. In public they were always the good-natured father and doting daughter, and her part was one she knew how to play well, but she sometimes wondered if he ever saw her as anything more than a means to achieve his ends.

Fortunately, he seemed to be keeping his good mood. ‘Games, daughter? Dealing with people isn’t a game . . . It’s what life is all about. And you do it so well.’

‘I like him, Father. And I think he likes me. Isn’t that enough?’

‘You have done well, Isobel. But your work is not yet finished.’

Isobel bit her lip. ‘You’re not listening. I’m not being false. Father, we actually enjoy being together. This isn’t like with Lord Haemon. I don’t want to do things just because you tell me to do them. It isn’t necessary this time.’

Philippos’s eyes narrowed. His voice was low, but it was swift and incisive. ‘Following my instructions is exactly what you will do. The only reason you even have a chance of being queen is because I made it happen.’

‘Be honest,’ Isobel said bitterly. ‘You aren’t doing this for me. If people in Phalesia see that the king of Xanthos is taking an interest in your daughter, you’ll be certain to become the next first consul.’

‘Listen to me, girl, and listen well,’ Philippos said. ‘There are two different men I can give you to. Either of them will suit my purposes and boost my reputation. One is the young king of Xanthos. The other is Lord Haemon.’

Isobel clenched her jaw. Staring down at the sand, she fought to suppress a shudder. Lord Haemon leered at her, his eyes roving up and down her body every time he looked at her – and any woman her age. She’d hated it when he held her hand in his sweaty palm.

‘At the moment,’ Isobel’s father continued, ‘you are doing well with young Dion. But our visit will soon end, and this opportunity with it. You said you like him . . . It shouldn’t be difficult for you. You must give yourself to him.’

Isobel winced. ‘Father, is that necessary? He likes me and I like him too. I don’t think he’s ready . . .’

‘Trust me.’ Philippos gave a short laugh. ‘Men are always ready. Tonight, my dear. At the banquet.’

Isobel hated him for what he was asking, despite knowing how high the stakes were for him.

She would not do it . . . Then something occurred to her.

She really did have feelings for Dion. For once in her life she wasn’t pretending. If Dion found someone else, her father would marry her off to Lord Haemon.