Mother laughed. “You don’t have to maul me every time you come into a room.”
Nyssa laughed too. “I’m just happy you are alive.”
“Me too.” Mother patted her arm and Nyssa released her to take a seat.
“Tell me what happened. I’ve heard bits and pieces of things, but no one knows the whole story. How did you evade the poison?”
Mother nodded. “We’ve kept some information to ourselves to prevent others from trying to do the same thing.” She picked up her china cup and blew across the steaming peppermint liquid. “Your text came in right as I was sitting down with your father. I almost didn’t look at my phone.”
Nyssa nodded. “Who would have thought that Mahana’s cellular tower would play a part in foiling his plans?”
“It’s a delicious irony.” Mother smiled. “The tea was getting cold because the boys were late, as usual.”
Nyssa loved how her mother called her brothersthe boys. No matter how old they grew, they would always belong to her heart as little boys. “Thank goodness.”
“Yes. The one time their tardiness served them well and I shall never hear the end of it.” Her words were full of irritation, but her eyes were full of love for her children. “I was able to discreetly notify Turk, who herded the kitchen staff into the pantry and locked the door. We’ve identified six of the conspirators who were living in the palace.”
“Six?” The number was atrocious. Six people living under their roof who wanted them dead. The thought was sickening.
“And there were five more outside the gate waiting to blockade the entrance until your cousin arrived and took control.”
“He is no cousin of mine.” Nyssa wanted to spit.
“Don’t interrupt.” Mother smiled.
“Yes ma’am.”
“With Mahana and Kingston, that makes thirteen men.”
“The traditional number of priest craft and evildoers.”
“It seems that Mahana studied the ancient scrolls well. The darkness in his soul is much thicker than we originally believed. Your father had thought to bring him home and keep him in the dungeon, but has since decided to let the US keep him. The Secretary of Defense was more than happy to take care of his legal due process.”
“You’ve spoken to the Secretary?” Nyssa remembered the powerlessness she’d felt in his office and the power she’d held after surviving. Surviving was powerful.
“He expressed his deepest sympathies for our recent troubles.”
“They may not have helped at the banquet of troubles, but at least they’re taking our trash.” Nyssa smirked.
“I must say, your time in America has not dulled your wit.”
Nyssa grinned. “Thank you, Mother.”
Mother rolled her eyes and set her cup in the saucer. “Is there something you’d like to tell me about your trip—an interesting story, perhaps?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Nyssa feigned innocence. She hadn’t told anyone of her time with Tatum or the pain in her heart at losing him. With Kingston an ocean away, Nyssa was able to keep those precious moments locked up tight. She had to, or she’d come unstitched. She’d googled “Tatum” and scrolled through hundreds of links, only to come up empty-handed.
Mother eyed her, waiting, much as she’d done when Nyssa was a child. Only, Nyssa was no longer a child and sharing this information was at her discretion. Tatum would always be a part of her and she couldn’t give him away to anyone.
To Nyssa’s great relief, Mother changed the subject. “Your father interviewed a new security company—obviously our last one wasn’t worth what we paid. Their bid was quite reasonable.” She picked up a sheet of paper. “After they applied the friends and family discount, that is.”
“Friends and family …?” Nyssa couldn’t imagine who on the island would have the expertise to build palace security. If they’d had a cousin with the knowledge, they would have hired him years ago.
“I’ve asked their representative to join us for tea—ah, here he is.” Mother’s face brightened.
Nyssa got to her feet and turned, ready to greet their visitor. Her breath caught in her throat as Tatum strode into the room. He wore tan linen pants and a white shirt open at the throat. A hint of a scar showed on his skin and she resisted the urge to trace her fingers over it, holding still as a stone in case he disappeared.
“Mr. Scott. So good of you to join us.”
