Nyssa bristled. This was the Marius she knew. The boy who was her brother’s friend. The one who teased her, who saw her as a young girl needing instruction. She sighed inwardly, not blaming him for the way he looked at her. They had too much history, spent too much time together as children, had behaved as siblings more than friends. She smiled sadly. “You cannot control whom you love—sometimes two souls can speak.”
Marius leaned forward, his eyes dancing. “You sound as sentimental as Wes.”
A waiter entered with two glasses of water. Nyssa and Marius cut off their conversation and waited for the server to set down their drinks. He took his time and Nyssa took a moment to consider her options. She needed to handle this situation just right. Marius was not the boring conversationalist she once believed him to be, and yet she wasn’t impressed with his figurative eye rolling at love. If he wanted to woo her into a courtship, he was not taking the right approach.
The waiter set her glass down, lowered the tray, and pulled out a gun all in one movement. Nyssa stared at the black barrel, not comprehending why it was there, pointed at her face. The gunslinger’s back was to Tatum, preventing him from having a clear view of the danger. Kingston could see. Her eyes went to him and he continued to stare at a spot on the wall.
Nyssa’s blood ran cold, freezing her fingers and stinging in her veins.
Marius’s eyes went hard. “What do you want with us?”
“I don’t want anything fromyou.” He angled towards Nyssa.
His movement allowed Tatum to see the weapon. With a cry of surprise, Tatum surged forward. Kingston moved swiftly. For a second, Nyssa believed the gunman to be outnumbered; relief washed over her skin.
Kingston didn’t join forces with Tatum and subdue the gunman. He stuck out his thick arm and hit Tatum square in the face, his giant fist blocking Tatum’s face. Nyssa gasped, her hands going to her mouth. Tatum stumbled back, surprised by the blow.
Nyssa gaped at the cut that dripped blood down Tatum’s cheek. “What are you doing?” she yelled at her guard. Jumping to her feet, she froze as the waiter pointed the gun at her chest.
Kingston glared at her.
“Kingston?” she asked. “What have you done?”
True to form, he didn’t reply.
“Father trusted you—I trusted you.”
His eyes went hard.
“How could you?” She’d hadn’t gotten along well with the guard, had resented him on several occasions. But she never fathomed this level of betrayal.
“Your father would have us remain in the dark ages. He must be removed so our people can take their rightful place in the world.”
“I thought the same thing, but I was wrong. The world isn’t waiting for us to step forward. We are a small nation of little consequence to the United States—we have nothing that they want.” She thought of the many mothers and fathers who had watched over her over the years, and of the children who wandered into the palace for a bowl of coconut pudding and a story from the queen. “But we have value. Our island is beautiful. We are a family. If you break that family, you will break Zimrada.”
Kingston’s eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t move to help her, but he didn’t back down.
Nyssa stepped towards Tatum. She couldn’t stand to see him in pain—though he showed no signs of noticing the injury, his face peaceful.
The waiter with the gun kicked her chair. “Have a seat, Princess.”
She stared at Tatum, spread awkwardly on the floor, unconscious and bleeding. “He needs tending.”
“He’ll tough it out.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off Tatum as she lowered herself into the chair. He looked so peaceful lying there, like a contented child oblivious to the situation. How she wanted to take his head in her lap and stroke his hair. To have him open his eyes to see her, just her and her love for him shining through.
“Hello, cousin.” The words slithered across Nyssa’s skin, revealing their owner by their sliminess. Nyssa whirled around to find Mahana in the doorway. She grabbed the back of the chair and held on, shaken at seeing a man she abhorred smile as if he owned her.
He wore a Western-style tuxedo and a pair of alligator cowboy boots that looked ridiculous. For some reason, she took offense at his choice of footwear. He had no business pretending to be a cowboy, not when she knew what a real cowboy was like. “Mahana,” she hissed. “Why are you here?”
“I am here because you can’t plant a new field without clearing the old trees.” He barely glanced at Tatum as he stepped into the room.
Nyssa barely kept herself from charging at Mahana, clawing his face. “Killing me will get younothing—I’m not even meant to reign.”
“Ah—you are right. Killing you would not solve my problem. But killing your family would give me everything.”
Her fingers tightened around the chair. “You bluff.”
