Almost a full week passed before arrangements were made for Nyssa to sail to a neighboring island with an airstrip and then fly to the US. Making the arrangements for the flight was much easier thanks to the cell tower and the Internet. Nyssa found great satisfaction in the knowledge that Mahana contributed to what would be his downfall—assuming she was successful.
Standing in the wheelhouse of her father’s largest boat, staring at the blockade, Nyssa’s confidence in the success of her journey waned. The sound of the engines went from a roar in the background to a soft purr as they slowed to avoid a collision. A dozen smaller boats were roped together and they moved across the harbor to keep themselves between Nyssa and international waters.
She could not see faces from inside the cabin, but she could hear angry voices and words that were best left out of her native tongue. Not all the men on the boats were local. She made out several of European descent and one redhead. Mahana was widening his circle of influence. The thought sent a shiver across the back of her neck.
The captain’s neck was a tumble of taut ropes, his Adam’s apple bobbing with alarming frequency. The first mate, standing in harm’s way at the prow, was stiff as a stone cut from the mountain. Crew members froze, the whites of their eyes betraying their worry.
The first mate slowly lifted a megaphone to thick lips. “You will allow us passage.”
A small man in a red shirt burst onto the deck of the boat third from the left. He also had a megaphone. “No one will pass.”
“Your boats are small and our boat is large.”
“It is not the size of the boat that matters, but the anger of the man inside.”
Nyssa hissed and made a dash for the door. How dare they threaten these good men and women? Just before they cast off, the first mate had kissed his wife and three children goodbye. She’d watched as the youngest cried for her father to come home. Had these traitors no decency?
“No!” the captain called. A crewman, the sides of his head shaved and the long hair on top secured in a bun, stepped in front of her. She stumbled back, surprised by the quick movement and determination of the stranger.
The captain came to her side, gently taking her elbow and leading her back to the wheel. “No one can know you are on this boat. Your departure must be kept secret, for your own safety.”
“But …” Nyssa hugged herself, thinking of that darling, chubby-faced two-year-old who would never understand why her father didn’t come home. The hate in the eyes of Mahana’s men aboard the offending ships was enough to make Nyssa want to run to the palace and lock the gates. A shadow of warning cast itself across the bow, sending a shiver up her spine.
She had a straight back and a stomach full of worry. “Turn back.”
No one moved. It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “Turn back,” she insisted. “Your lives are more valuable than foolish pride. I will find another way.”
“There is no other way,” blurted the crew member still standing in front of the door.
“If I have to SCUBA to America, I will. But I will not allow your families to suffer because of Mahana.”
The men exchanged glances. The captain weighed his options. He studied the boats, the tethers that bonded them, and the desperation floating in the gypsum. “Reverse thrust,” he ordered.
The engines once again roared, churning up the sea as they backed away from the blockade.
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.