She had been foolish and her people would pay the price.
Mother made a noise in her throat that was neither a confirmation nor a rebuttal. “Do you still want to visit that café?”
Reserved excitement surged just under Nyssa’s skin. She didn’t deserve the excursion, but oh, how she wanted it. “Yes. I have been online and there are many good things said about the sweets they bake. They have something called turtle brownies. Although, in the pictures they did not look like turtles.”
“Fine. Please stay out of trouble and do not post on social networks.”
“Why?” Nyssa had set up a Facebook account the week before. While her following was nothing compared to Prince Titan from Riodan, she did not travel the world posting images of herself with half-naked dance partners.
She chewed her lip. A picture of Tatum would surely up her stats—especially if she could get him into a black cowboy hat. His handsomeness was raw and unyielding.
Mother leaned forward, closer to the phone. She checked over her shoulder before saying, “We received another threat this morning. The letter talked about the family splitting up and said that even sending you to America would not prevent the end of our reign.”
Nyssa gripped the chair. “Was I followed here?” She darted a look to the door, where Kingston stood on the other side.
“It’s possible. We aren’t ruling out the chance that you are being watched.”
A shiver crept along Nyssa’s spine.
“Promise me you will not leave Kingston’s sight again.”
Each letter increased in hatred and menace. Whoever left them was psychotic in his desire to remove the Jobassit family from power. She did not need to add to her parents’ list of concerns by behaving like a child. “I promise.”
Mother’s smile was not strong.
“I should get going.” Nyssa stood, putting her purse strap over her shoulder. “Be safe, Mother, and enjoy smooth waters.”
“I love you,” replied Mother.
“The love is returned.” Nyssa made her way to the door, where Kingston waited like a ship with lowered sails.
Her fingernails dug into her palm. She would not allow this traitor to overtake her father, her family. The people of Zimrada needed a ruler who cared more about them than he did about himself. Mahana saw the throne as a powerful tool he could yield at his pleasure.
Yes, her family lived in a palace while some lived in huts, but the palace was built by her ancestors, each adding to the original structure during their courtships per tradition. Any family on the island could do the same, and many had, sprinkling beautiful hand-crafted buildings along the shoreline, while others were content to make new, smaller homes. What was most important was that they had the choice.
Back when Mahana was a regular at the palace, he would speak of bringing in cruise ships and creating a destination island for the wealthy. He would “buy” the larger homes on the coast and turn them into rentals or resorts—forcing the families that had been there for over a century to move inland. What his followers failed to grasp was that the Jobassit family was all that stood between them and the raping of the island and their way of life.
Nyssa loved the technology Mahana introduced to the island. Like beautiful seashells, the glittering silver cases and glowing screens of the smartphones fascinated her. Her mind hungered for the information available on every subject in the world. Knowledge was a powerful weapon, and Mahana had unwittingly handed them a large sword. It was through the Internet that Father had learned of the United States offering protection to coastal islands. They weren’t on the American coast per se, but if they had the US on their side, Mahana wouldn’t stand a chance.
Stepping into the chilly, overcast afternoon, Nyssa was grateful for the warm sweater set her mother had packed. At fifty-two degrees, Washington was colder than she’d anticipated. She wondered if the cool temperatures were a sign that she should turn back, that there were rough seas ahead.
Kingston held the door open to their hired car and she slipped into the back where the windows were tinted. The driver asked for the address to the café and she read it off her phone.
Considering the peril facing her island, Nyssa decided it was better to keep her true identity a secret from Tatum. She’d once trusted Mahana, as had her father, and he turned out to be a spider lurking among the flowers. She’d meet her new friend as Neese, not Princess Nyssa, thus keeping her family safe.
“Kingston,” she said quietly.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes always looking for danger.
“The man I am meeting today does not know who I am. I would like to keep it that way. The less he knows about me, the safer I am.”
He worked his jaw. “What are you asking?”
“For space.”
“The last time I gave you space, you ducked out a back door.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that.” She peered up at him. “I won’t disappear again.”
