It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart. He excelled academically.
It wasn’t that the prince was dull. He entertained many.
It wasn’t that he was ugly. He wasn’t.
In fact, Nyssa couldn’t come up with one good reasonnotto marry the prince—except that she didn’t love him.
Love.
A concept that was much different in America than Zimrada. Nyssa had seen two American movies:Back to the Future,andSabrinawith Audrey Hepburn, whom Nyssa suspected was a queen by her own rights. Both shows filled her head with “romantic notions,” as her mother called them. The movies weren’t the culprits that hijacked her heart. That robbery happened years ago when her younger brother gifted her a CD player and an Elvis Presley greatest hits album. It was within those deep ballads that she determined to find a man who would love her tender.
Prince Marius was not that man.
Pushing aside thoughts of a courtship that was, hopefully, several years away, Nyssa brushed away the gray clouds in her mind and let the sunshine enter her soul.
Father pulled his palm down his cheek. “Marriage was … an adjustment.” So many emotions rolled behind his eyes that Nyssa knew better than to press for additional information. Her parents loved one another, but that didn’t mean that they grew the same thoughts.
Father led her out to the balcony. The Zimrada palace was three stories high. Having used the pink sands from their beaches to stucco the exterior, the Jobassit family was the only royal family to live in a pink palace. At least, she’d believed that all her life. Perhaps she should look it up on the computer in her father’s office. The royal family had two—one for the king and one for the queen, although Nyssa spent much more time on them than either of her parents.
Brushing her fingers over the gritty exterior wall, she allowed the sense of home to flood through her soul. Perhaps she would leave the internet search for pink palaces for another day.
The family’s private area of the palace, including bedrooms, was on the top floor. Few outsiders were allowed here, and only a handful of servants. Although, if she were going to America, she would have to start calling them employees. They were paid for their labor from the orange grove’s profits—and paid well for being trusted by the king. Trusted enough to allow them near his children. Despite Mother’s accusations, Father was a protective patriarch.
The gathering room, where they took tea, faced the ocean with large double doors thrown open to let the salty breeze ruffle the white linen drapes. “Upon your arrival, you will host a ball. I’ve sent invitation to many of our business associates, royal families, and American politicians. You will greet the guests as they arrive. The night will serve as a way to introduce you as our representative—a role I was hoping you would grow into with time. For generations we’ve thrived in our corner of the world, but I’m afraid we will need to take a greater role if we are to continue to protect and serve our people as well as find them opportunities.”
Nyssa moved her braid over her shoulder so she could twist the end, as she often did when she was thinking. “Find them opportunities?” She twisted faster. “You mean help themleave?”
“Perhaps. If that is their desire.”
“Where would you send them?”
“To school.” Father sagged against the white pillar. “The more I learn on that computer, the more I see how much I do not know.”
“Schools cost money.”
“We will begin a scholarship program—your younger brother will be the first recipient, but there must be others.”
Nyssa chewed her lip. The education system on the island was the equivalent to a US high school diploma. She’d graduated with the highest honors.
“We should consider your discussion with the Secretary of Defense.”
“Yes.” Nysaa’s heart leapt. She leaned against the banister, imagining the faraway shores throwing open their arms to welcome her, then quickly shrunk back. A high school education was nothing when compared to the accomplishment of someone like the Secretary of Defense.
“Ideally, we would like help in breaking up the blockade. Our crop rots while Mahana pressures me to step away from the throne. The orchards employ over two hundred people who have children and aging parents to support.” Father’s shoulders sank lower as he spoke, weighed down by the king’s mantle. “Selling the harvest is our top priority.”
“Agreed.”
“Secondly, please request troops for the palace. Mahana wishes to be king and I am afraid of the lengths he will go to obtain the crown.”
“Have the threats increased?”
“No, they come as steady as the sun, once a day. Always in the morning, always outside my bedroom door. Always unsigned.”
Nyssa looked over her shoulder and, finding them alone, asked, “Do you know who leaves them?”
“I have my suspicions. I do not want to believe one of our own has turned on us, but the possibility is there. My cousin’s influence has grown since he installed the cellular tower on the bluff.”
They turned to see the ugly silver beacon marring their landscape and bringing technology to their shores. In the beginning, the king and his family embraced the movement, hoping that supporting Mahana’s businesses would satiate his driving need for power. They bought cell phones for the entire family, two computers, and a large, modern television. The tools had become invaluable for the royal family while most of the islanders did not trust the electronic gadgets.
