The small men on the enemy’s decks cheered as though they had given the order, as though they were powerful.
“They do not understand the influence of a loyal heart,” said the captain as if he had heard her thoughts. “If you SCUBA to America, I would accompany you and give you my air tank when yours ran out.” He dipped his head in a bow.
“Thank you,” Nyssa whispered.
The captain blushed and bent his head over a chart. In short time, they were back where they started, having accomplished nothing more than to bolster the men at the blockade.
Nyssa left the ship in the center of a cluster of crewmembers some women and some men with Kingston on her heels. She had worn a simple shirt and pants to blend in, further keeping the knowledge of her departure a secret. The desire to leave the ship ran like high tide over the reef; it swept in powerfully and forced its way into small crevices. Nyssa slowed her steps. The blockade would not see them running away.
The dock bounced lightly with their steps, constantly shifting like her mood. She squeezed a small pebble tightly in her fist, drawing strength from the tiny rock that had faced an entire ocean and become a nearly perfect sphere. Life was sometimes like the ocean, rolling pebbles about and taking off the rough edges. Her mother had given her this pebble and the lesson all in one afternoon. “You may feel as small as this rock, but you can always be strong,” she had said, pressing the rock into Nyssa’s hand.
Father met her at the beach. To her great satisfaction, he did not wrap her in his arms like a child running from a bully. Instead he waited for her to come to him, and then they marched side by side up the sandy path to the palace gate hidden by the protective wall.
Once inside, she kissed the small pebble with relief. “What now?”
Father ushered her forward with a hand at her back. “There is another way, but I’d hoped to avoid using it.”
He showed her to a small door in the stone wall. Had he not pushed aside the rocks, she would have never seen the opening. She had to work her way between several tree trunks and the stones to reach the doorway leading to a dark tunnel lined with limestone.
Kingston grunted in surprise. “I’ve never seen this.” His brow lowered, shading his already dark eyes and giving him a menacing appearance. Perhaps they should have unleashed Kingston on the blockade, she mused.
“How did I not know this was here?” Nyssa and her brothers played over every inch of these gardens as children.
“You never knew to look.” Father smiled first at her and then Kingston. “There is a short tunnel and a hidden dock.” He nodded to Kingston to go first. He bowed slightly, and entered the tunnel. The giant of a man carried her two suitcases, one in each hand, and his small bag slung over one shoulder. How such a large man could pack so light she’d never know.
“My captain will take you around the island and away from the blockade. If God listens to my prayers, you will make it safely to Aradus.”
Aradus was one of the few islands in their cluster that had room for an airport, and even then, the runway was covered in grass and bumpy. The terminal was only open when a plane was scheduled to depart. Several of the royal families in the area used helicopters, but her family had clung to tradition and traversed the sea. There was something quite romantic in navigating the currents of their ancestors, though she was beginning to wonder about upgrading their travel accommodations.
From Aradus, she would fly to North Carolina and then on to Washington, DC, where her diplomatic mission would begin with the ball.
Father placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve told the Americans that the queen is making the trip. I am needed here to maintain peace. If I leave, Mahana would overrun the palace.”
Only the death on a monarch would call for a new king, but exile would work just as nicely. Living in the palace was the right of the royal family. If Father left, the people could be convinced he gave up the crown. Mahana was nothing if he wasn’t a master orator. Nyssa rolled the pebble in her palm. Maintaining the throne was Father’s job—going for help was hers.
“Won’t the Americans be upset when I arrive instead of Mother?”
Father’s hand tightened, his strength seeping in through her shoulder to wash out the worry. “The subterfuge was necessary. No one will be upset when they see you in her place, my daughter. You will win their hearts and their protection—I have no doubt.”
Nyssa threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you for trusting me.”
His arms tightened and then released. “I love you, daughter.”
“The love is returned,” she replied in their traditional farewell. With one last look over her shoulder, Nyssa hurried along the limestone path. The water lit from below like in the caves on the other side of the island. The caves were one of the first things she had researched when they got the computer. Sunlight passed through the cavity up ahead and glowed, lighting the cavern. Zimrada’s cave did not register on the Web, but there was one in Italy called the Blue Grotto that did. Thousands of tourists braved tiny rowboats to view the natural wonder. Nyssa’s cave glowed a beautiful emerald green.
Her fingers grazed the wall to maintain balance on the slick rock. She was like the cave—an unknown princess waiting to be discovered by the world. She would escape her home and begin the journey to bring peace to her island and her family once again.
Chapter Three
Nyssa brushed her hands down the long black gown. Fitted like a sarong with a beautiful jeweled collar, the dress had been sewn in such a way that it was awkward to walk in—her legs couldnotmove freely. She often wore sarongs at home and they had give in all the right ways. This dress was not a giver.
She’d binge-watched a sitcom on the plane and earned a massive headache and eyestrain for the effort. The pounding, accompanied by the steady drone from the plane’s engines late into the night, had her reconsidering her position on technology and its place on Zimrada.
A nap in a luscious hotel bed and a warm shower had done wonders to revive her. Which was a good thing, considering the hotel was comping the cost of the ball in exchange for the exclusive rights to take photos of the events and use them for marketing purposes. Appearing as the princess of the undead wasn’t going to do Zimrada’s or the hotel’s reputations any favors. Although, the hotel’s reputation was doing pretty good on its own as far as she could tell.
Her room had light gray wallpaper textured to look like bark. The effect was that of living in a forest. Not that she’d ever lived in a forest, but if she did, this would be the kind of forest she would want—a forest with an in-room television as large as her window. The concierge had patiently shown her how to select a movie or “star” one for later. She’d selected the star next to a movie calledGreasethat promised poodle skirts and boys in leather jackets with slick hair that reminded her of an Elvis CD she had back home. To say Zimrada was behind the times would be like saying a whale was sort of big or a jellyfish could slightly sting. Her plan was to stay up late after the ball and watchGrease—or fall asleep trying. One movie wouldn’t cause a headache, and with a screen that big, her eyes would be fine. So much for taking a stand against technological advancement when she got home.
The concierge had also shown her how to connect to the free Wi-Fi, and she’d been overjoyed at the high-speed internet connection that allowed her to research the American government and the men and women she’d meet with in the next few days.
