Now that he knew who she really was, he couldn’t possibly follow her to Zimrada. How could he ever live with her so close, watching over her every move, and not have her?
The prince appeared to truly be interested in Nyssa. He was attentive as he pulled out her chair, his hand lingering on her bare shoulder just long enough to give an insight into his intentions. Tatum wanted to throw up.
The two royals moved as people who were familiar enough to be at ease but formal enough not to let their guards down. He could almost believe they were at a state dinner, except the prince had specifically called the dinner adate.
He couldn’t believe he didn’t know she was the princess. Her standing was written all over her straight back, her long, thin neck that bore the crown so easily, and in her inherent grace. He was such a fool.
Fool me once …
Nyssa had brokeneye contact with Tatum out of desperation and moved quickly to her seat. Her knees quaked and barely held her up as she crossed the room. Marius must have sensed her discomfort, because he placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. She smiled a thank-you, her lips straining to move as they should.
Tatum was obviously in security, with his dark suit and white shirt. Not to mention the way he stood against the wall, like the statue she’d pictured Kingston becoming. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes had flashed with a cold streak of silver as cold as a stone. She’d lost her anonymity, which she had prized because of the freedom it gave her to care for Tatum. With it gone, she was just the princess—a visiting royal, the princess who had failed her people.
She contemplated Marius as he made his way to his seat. He’d hired Tatum. Had they been working together all along? Had Tatum known all along that she wasn’t what she claimed?
He couldn’t have known when he handed her his coat.
When they snuck out of that ball—had he known then?
What about when he kissed her?
She dug her nails into her palms in an effort to slow her mind down enough that she could catch her breath.
When she’d met up with him at the café, he’d asked where the princess was, so he couldn’t have known then, either. She grabbed on to that thought and held it close, wanting to believe that what they’d shared was real and untainted.
Yet even as she clutched the thought close, it turned as prickly as a rose’s stem.
Tatum hadn’t known who she was until she walked in wearing a stupid tiara with Kingston trailing behind.
His kisses had been real.
But the surprise and the betrayal in his eyes were real too.
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Quite the opposite. She didn’t tell him the truth because she liked him, because she wanted to be with him. She could never say that to him with Marius sitting across from her—the situation was as awkward as jellyfish sandwiches. Nevertheless, the truth burned her teeth in its need to be spoken.
Marius settled his napkin across his lap and smiled shyly. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Nyssa.”
“You too, Marius.” Nyssa also laid her cloth napkin across her lap, feeling as though she were underwater, mimicking his movements.
“How is your family?”
She stifled a groan. Marius was making polite conversation and she should make a bigger effort to engage in the evening; after all, the one thing she could do right would be to marry him. But her mind and her body were drawn on Tatum. What she wouldn’t give for a palm frond to hide behind with him right now. “They’re well. And yours?”
“They run around like chickens planning Wes’s wedding.” He smiled and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I still can’t believe my brother is marrying an American.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Nyssa worked to keep her eyes from traveling to Tatum. She’d be lying if she said the idea of marrying an American hadn’t crossed her mind. Not that she would marry him after one date. That was crazy! She would, however, be interested in a courtship with the man. A sweet courtship where he was tied to the island for a whole year, as tradition required. She could teach him to sail and they could spend hours combing the pink beaches. She frowned. The tradition applied to Zimradians; would they be able to change things for Tatum? Perhaps visit his family in Wyoming?
“I had always pictured Wes with Tira from Aradus,” mused the prince.
Nyssa considered the match but dismissed it immediately. “Wes is much too strong of a personality for Tira. She is shy, focusing inward. He needs a wife who will not let him get away with being cheeky.”
Marius brushed his nose, considering her. She didn’t much care for the spark of interest she saw in his eyes. He had never looked at her that way before. Instead of being overjoyed that their time together was warming his heart, she was dismayed by the prospect.
“What could he have in common with a woman from New York?” He leaned across the table. “Don’t you miss the sound of the waves and the crash of the surf? I feel closed in without sounds of the sea.”
Nyssa shook her head, her hair bouncing in waves. “I am fine. In fact, I’ve truly enjoyed my American experience—it will always be the highlight of my life. I only wish I’d had time to visit the West.” This time she did chance a look at Tatum, but found his expression unreadable. “As for having something in common—perhaps what they found was love.”
Marius shook his head as one would at a child.
