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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.

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 from you.” 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.

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