The Royal's Obsession by Sophia Lynn

giving them calm orders in Greek.
    They rapidly approached a green island, and when they were close enough, he turned to Anastasia.
    “Come on. Into the rowboat.”
    “Are we getting off here?” she asked in shock. “What about everyone else?”
    “They are going on to Kyros, which is another forty minutes away. We can be alone here.”
    He paused for a moment, as uncertain as she had ever seen him.
    “You can go to Kyros if you want. I…I would understand.”
    “No,” she said firmly, holding his hand tighter. “I'm staying here with you.”
    The smile he gave her was almost shy, and he gestured to the crew.
    Uncertainly, she climbed into the rowboat, gasping a little as they started to lower it.
    “The water is too shallow close to this island for them to dock. We'll have to do this the old fashioned way.”
    She watched in silent appreciation as he expertly detached the rowboat from the yacht's moorings before taking up the oars. When he rowed towards the small island, she could see how naturally he maneuvered the craft.
    In next to no time at all, he had landed the rowboat on the shore. She helped him drag it above the high tide line, and then she looked around.
    “This place is beautiful,” she said. “What is it called?”
    Augustine shrugged. “I'm sure it has at least a numerical designation on the nautical maps. As far as I know, though, it doesn't have a real name. There are many islands off the coast of Greece that are like this. Beautiful but nameless.”
    “Have you been here before?”
    “A few times. When I first got my own craft, I started to explore up and down the coast. It got so my parents could barely keep me at home. This was one of my favorites. Come with me, I'll show you why.”
    Mystified, she followed him. Augustine, she was beginning to see, was a man of many moods. He was like the ocean he loved so much. One moment, he might be tempestuous and raging. The next he might be as calm as a beautiful pearly sea. She could learn to predict him, though, like the sea. Nothing happened without a reason, after all. If she stayed close to him long enough, she might find herself as able to predict his moods and wildness as easily as any other canny old sailor. The thought appealed to her, though she did not quite understand why.
    They walked up the dunes, and to her surprise, she saw the bleached white ruins of what must have been a little temple. Following Augustine's lead, she explored the site, her eyes wide and wondering.
    There was a round tiled floor ringed with what had once been narrow graceful pillars—they had broken off at various heights sometime in the past. At one end was a thicker pillar and on it was a woman's bust. When she ventured closer, Anastasia could see the woman's graceful shoulders and neck, make out something of her elaborate hair style, see the dark hollows where her features had been before they were worn down with time.
    “She's beautiful,” Anastasia whispered. “Who is she?”
    “That's a very good question,” Augustine said with a shrug. “I have brought back dozens of pictures for a friend at the university, and he says she could be one of any number of goddesses. She might be a representation of Juno or Aphrodite or Artemis, but due to how far out from the mainland she is and how small her temple was, there is a chance she was some minor goddess that we have forgotten.
    “You haven't, though,” she said quietly, still gazing at the ancient goddess's smooth face.
    It was incredible to think that thousands of years ago, when her face was fresh and new, this was a goddess worshiped by people who came to this island. Perhaps they brought her a sacrifice of fresh-caught fish or flowers from the distant mainland. Perhaps they danced for her, or perhaps they wept and begged her for favors.
    She turned to see that Augustine was reclined in the shade close by, watching her with calm dark eyes. Somehow, despite everything that they had done together, she felt