Page 36 of A Princess, Stolen
“What you see is wishful thinking, Willa Mouse. Because you miss her so much. Believe me, I miss her terribly too, but we have to let Mom go.”
I didn’t want to let her go though. Still, I immediately felt guilty because he seemed so unhappy and I had to do everything I could to make him happy.
“Maybe it’s because of the house? Mom is everywhere here,” Dad said, but I didn’t understand exactly what that meant. “It would definitely be best if we moved.”
I nodded again for his sake. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to leave the house that still smelled faintly of Mom, of violets and lilies, where Dad still slept in the double bed that Mom had slept in and where I now snuggled up to him night after night. The mansion where Mom had baked Christmas cookies and brownies in the kitchen with me like normal people, without servants, the house that was still so full of her feelings,her love, and the rare laughter. Maybe that was what Dad meant by omnipresent.
Not two months later, we moved into the penthouse in Manhattan. At first, it just seemed soulless, sterile, and lonely. Mom was gone. Dad, on the other hand, filled his luxury apartment with more and more rarities from all over the world as well as staff, and the staff filled it with kindness, hustle and bustle, and laughter. Nevertheless, it took a long time for me to settle in and be happy. That was why I had always enjoyed the summers at Rosewood Manor so much. Mom’s memorial was there and I still felt Mom there. In the shade gardens, in the roses, in her dressing room, and in every echo of my voice when I called her secretly, hoping she would show up.Mom! Mom! Mom!
“Hey.” The voice was soft but yanked me out of the memory. I looked at two sturdy black lace-up boots, the kind men in the army wear, and raised my head. Nathan stood in front of me, but I hadn’t heard him approach. His black outfit inevitably made me think of an angel of death, the bearer of bad news. “What…what did you decide?” I asked promptly.
“Nothing will happen to you here on board. I promise,” he said roughly. He seemed tired as if he had fought a long battle. Maybe it had been exhausting negotiating for my life.
I couldn’t help but breathe a deep sigh of relief, infinitely glad that I was safe for now. No, it was more than that. He had justpromisedme. I thought about what Troy had told me about the promises in his family. He only promised something when he was certain he could keep it. I looked at him through the bars. “Thank you,” I replied softly even though I didn’t have to be grateful. They were the culprits, not me. However, a promise was a promise and more than I expected.
He nodded, his gaze still fixed on me. “You look terrible,” he said after a while.
“Thank you for that too!”
He smiled, and like at the gate in Louisiana, it was a fleeting smile; flying across his face, lighting up his sea-gray eyes making him appear frighteningly defenseless.
For a few seconds, it seemed as if we were back in Baton Rouge at the property fence, only this time, he was on the winning side and I was dirty and hungry.
“What did you do to Pan?” he asked, leaning against the opposite wall, his feet crossed, his arms folded across his chest. His defenselessness was wiped away.
“Nothing…why?”
“He seemed so absentminded.”
I blinked. “Didn’t he tell you anything?”
“Men like him don’t talk much. He sits at the bow and stares out at the sea like a heron.”
I found that notion strange. “Pan asked me what I did to you. Everyone asks me what I’ve done to people, yet I’m just here tied up. I can’t do anything.”
“Oh!” Nathan snorted. “Then I must have seen a mirage on deck.”
“You know what I mean.”
Suddenly, he grew serious, his face free of mockery and anger, and I realized how much I still liked it. I had no idea if he could be described as beautiful and his photo would certainly never make the front page of theNew York Timeslike Lawrence. And if it did, it would be negative headlines. He was not a shining star, not a model type; his aura was somber in nature, just as the sea in the fog could be dark and gloomy, yet magical, especially in the moonlight.
“Your situation is critical,” he said now. “Naturally, most don’t want to release you, but nobody wants you dead even if you might believe that or think some do. These are good men. I chose them myself.”
I remained silent, although hisgood menmade me want to object. Instead, I said, “Chosen. From where? From what?”
He ignored that. “You only saw everyone in the dark, though now you know a few faces up close. We don’t even need to discuss Taurus’ bull tattoo because you’ve proven that you’re not stupid. You also saw Troy and me. And Pan…”
“But Pan wasn’t my fault.”
“It’s not about blame, it’s about the plan, Willa. It must not fail, cannot, that’s a priority, number one on the list.”
He called me Willa again, which was probably a good sign and it sounded nice coming from him. Deep, warning, and urgent. Nevertheless, I asked, “And my life? Where is that on your list?”
He came closer to the bars. “I did not make that decision lightly. It will demand a lot from me—from you too, by the way.”
I swallowed. It was difficult to hear those words and not be afraid especially because I was hanging on a bar as if being crucified as well as freezing and hungry. “What does your decision demand of me?”
He did not take his eyes off my face. “You will find out when the time comes.”
