“He is a prince.”
Father studied her for a moment. “You do not love him.”
“No.” She dropped her chin.
“Couldyou love him?”
That was one of the questions that had plagued Nyssa, keeping her feet from being still and her thoughts from settling. Could she marry Marius for the sake of her country and forget Tatum? “I could respect him and I could befriend him. But I do not think I could love him as a woman should.”
“Why not?” He seemed truly perplexed.
“Because once you’ve had chocolate turtles, no other chocolates will do.”
Father’s eyebrows shot to the puffy white clouds hovering overhead. “You’ve found someone? When did this happen?”
Nyssa ran her hands over her arms. “I’m—I’m not sure what I’ve found; it could be love. I didn’t have time to find out. But the possibility was there and will always be a part of my heart.”
Father placed his hand on her shoulder. “You are needed here.”
“I know, Father.” The knowledge burned down her throat and filled her stomach. Serving the people was more than weeding a woman’s garden, harvesting oranges, and reading to children. Real service meant giving of herself. “I will marry Marius and make a good life for us on this island with the people I love.”
“And what of your American ideals? Have you tossed those aside so easily?”
“Not easily.” She smiled sadly, aching for the small portion of the life she could have had, and turned to her duty.
They talked for several more minutes before her brothers arrived. Dark circles hung under Turk’s eyes, like shadows under the orange trees. He walked leaning slightly forward and hunched over. For all Nyssa carried with her to and from America, her brother bent under his load as future king.
Her younger brother was lighter, though he had new lines at the corners of his eyes and he continually searched the room as if suspecting trouble.
Hugs were exchanged, as were feelings of relief to be together again.
“Where is Mother?”
“She had a migraine and has taken to her bed,” replied Turk.
“Oh.” Nyssa had only had one headache as bad as the ones Mother got in times of stress. She wished there was something she could do. “I will peek in on her.”
“Do not jostle her,” cautioned Father.
“I won’t.” Nyssa snuck into the darkened room and pressed a kiss to her mother’s warm forehead. The herbs the doctors prescribed often made her sleep through the worst of the pain. For now, it was enough to see her chest rise and fall and color on her cheeks.
Her family was safe and they could move forward without Mahana’s influence. That was the most important development. She now understood what her mother had said about being in the service of her country, and she would be the princes she was born to be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Two days had passed since the assassination attempt and the royal family had come back to a level of normal, though Nyssa doubted they would ever feel normal again. The small differences that remained from the assassination attempt were considered blessings.
The cellular tower Mahana built was confiscated by the crown, as were his other Zimrada-based companies. Father was once again a wealthy king. The Americans, as it turned out, had broken up the blockade on their way back to neutral waters. Their huge ship had pulled as close as possible to the blockade and pointed their guns at the small ships. Seeing death, the captains unhooked their boats and sped off into the Atlantic.
Mahana, Kingston, and the knife thrower who had tried to kill Tatum awaited trial in an American prison. Mahana’s biggest mistake was setting foot on American soil. Americans took attempted murder of a visiting dignitary very seriously. At some point, Nyssa may have to return to the US to testify against Mahana. She dreaded the trip, knowing every moment would be filled with tender memories that stung like lemon juice on an open wound.
For now, she was needed on the island. She’d posted the police report of the event on her Facebook page and gained twenty thousand new followers overnight. The world wanted to know what happened to the “orange grove princess,” as they called her, and she used every opportunity to market the family’s oranges and caramel products.
Zimrada was officially trending.
Like sharks in the ocean, the revolutionaries slithered back into the deep. They were powerless without Mahana to guide them. Those that were captured had given a pledge to the island and the king and were sent back to their families. A few were retained in the dungeon until their hearts could be softened. Father took them their noon meal every day, learning what Mahana had done to pull them away from their island family. It wouldn’t be long before he won their hearts and their loyalty with his kindness.
Nyssa entered the sitting room and wrapped her arms around her mother, thankful to squeeze her soft shoulders.
