Now here she sat in a strange country after having had to fight for her life all night and the man who had rescued her was behaving very oddly. She glanced toward the tangle of trees and wondered when he was going to return with that fish stew he had promised. Of course she would have to insist that he clothe himself. Mama had told her never to allow a man to appear before her unclothed, whether he was a servant, a husband, or a native of some strange island.
There was a single palm tree a few feet down the beach and she slowly rose and started walking toward it. Her head swam with the effort and her legs were weak from exertion, but she pulled herself up as stiff as possible and began to walk—no slouching or staggering for someone of the blood royal. A princess is always a princess, Mama had said, no matter where she is or how people around her are behaving. She must remain a princess and let others know of their status or else they’ll take advantage.
Take advantage, Aria thought, such as that man did this morning. The names he had called her! She willed her cheeks not to blush in memory. And the way he had touched her! No one, ever, in all her life had touched her like that. Didn’t he understand that he wasn’t supposed to touch a royal princess?
She sat down under the tree in the shade. She wanted to lean against the trunk and rest but she didn’t dare. She would probably fall asleep and it wouldn’t do for that man to see her sleeping when he returned with her meal.
Instead, she sat up straight and looked out at the ocean and, without willing them to, the events of the last twenty-four hours came back to her.
This past night had been the worst of her life, perhaps the worst night of anyone’s life. Three days ago she had left her country of Lanconia for the first time in her life. She was to be the guest of the American government, and while the officials were talking to her ministers, the Americans planned to take Aria on a round of official engagements. Her grandfather the king had explained that their hospitality was merely an effort to persuade him to sell Lanconia’s vanadium but he thought Aria might benefit from the experience.
There had been a long, tiring journey on trains then an army plane that had hastily been outfitted with antique chairs and brocade that was taped to the walls. Some of the tape came unstuck but Aria did not let the Americans know that she saw. Later she planned to laugh about it with her sister.
The Americans had treated her well if a bit strangely. One minute someone would bow to her and the next minute some man would take her elbow and say, “Watch your step, honey.”
They landed in a place called Miami and immediately she was led to a small plane that was to take them to the southernmost tip of America, Key West. Here Aria was to be escorted about the big naval base and see where ships that had been injured in the war were repaired. Unfortunately, her two-week itinerary was full of visits to naval bases and army hospitals and luncheons with dowager societies. She wished that one afternoon could have included a gallop on a good horse but there didn’t seem to be any time. Grandpapa had said the Americans wanted to impress upon her the need their country had for the vanadium and they didn’t think that parties with handsome young men were likely to do that.
Straight off the plane Aria was greeted with a red carpet, and several overweight ladies wearing dresses of pastel chiffon—dresses that were indecently short—and carrying heavy bouquets of flowers. Aria accepted the flowers, smiling even though her feet were killing her and the heat of Key West made her feel light-headed. Three times she had to stifle a yawn as she handed the flowers to her lady-in-waiting who handed them to an American officer who handed them to an enlisted man who handed them to the chauffeur who put them in the trunk of a long black limousine.
Aria was escorted to a room in a building on the naval base that made her gasp. It looked as if the Americans had scoured the island for every piece of gilt furniture they could find and had put it all in the room. The hastily built, plain building with its purely functional rooms looked incongruous with the carnivallike carved, gilt furniture.
Aria gave her lady-in-waiting a quelling look lest the woman offend the Americans, but she was afraid the room would give her nightmares. There was an hour for her two dressers to ready her for a banquet.
At the banquet, she sat at a long table set on a dais surrounded by generals and town officials wearing suits smelling of mothballs. Every one of them had to give a speech and Aria tried not to show her sleepiness. She was also hungry but could not eat because the Americans had allowed photographers into the room for the entire meal. Royalty could not be photographed while ingesting food. So she sat, her plate taken away barely touched.
By the time she got back to her room, her long black heavy dress was weighing her down and she knew that even though it was midnight she had to be up at six A.M. for breakfast with a politician, then at seven she was to see something called a gyro compass laboratory.
Standing in the middle of the room, waiting for her dresser to come and remove her dress, waiting for her maid to draw her bath, in those few minutes when she was alone, someone threw something heavy over her head and carr
ied her out of the room, and, as far as she could tell, out of the building.
She was nearly suffocated before the two men removed the covering.
“You will be paid if I am returned unharmed,” she had begun, but a gag was put over her mouth then her hands and ankles tied. She was shoved into the backseat of a car and driven away.
Her mother and grandfather had often lectured her on the hazards of being royal, and once before, when she was twelve, there had been an attempt on her life. Aria lay quietly in the back of the car but she never lost her wits. She began to work the cords on her wrists, wriggling them looser and looser.
The men in the front seat didn’t speak, just drove. They stopped, got out, and Aria could smell the ocean. She had freed her hands then untied her feet, but she had wrapped the cords lightly back around them. By now she thought the alarm would have been given and people would be looking for her, but she had to wait until there was a good opportunity to escape.
The men returned, but before she could see where she was, they covered her with a cloth again. This time she was put into what felt like a boat.
“Let her breathe,” one of the men said as he started the motor, and the cloth was removed from her face.
Aria had a good look at the men. With a jolt, she realized that if they allowed her to see them, then they did not mean for her to live. She could smell the ocean and see the sky but nothing else.
After an hour or more one of the men said, “We’re out far enough. Let’s get it over with.” He slowed the motor and over her feet, Aria thought she could see tree leaves.
She saw the other man lift a rifle and check to see if it was loaded.
Aria made her move as quickly as possible. Under the cover she had removed the loose bindings and now she jumped up and over the side of the little motorboat. The action rocked the boat and startled the two men, giving her a few precious seconds. She dove, but when she came up for air the man was shooting at her. She dove again. After she dove the fourth time, she remembered nothing until that man was holding her and saying outrageous things to her.
So here she was now, sitting under a palm tree in a country that was entirely too hot, having had no sleep and no food, and the only other person who seemed to be on this island was a half-naked commoner.
She stood, tried to straighten her dress, smoothed her hair back, and decided to look for him. Americans certainly didn’t seem to know how to act. Why hadn’t he apologized for touching her? And why wasn’t he bringing her food? She would have to find him then allow him to return her to the American government. They would be frantic by now.
He wasn’t easy to find. It took her an hour to walk around the narrow, smelly little beach but there was no sign of him. What a very odd way to treat royalty. Of course she had read that America had never had a king but surely even that couldn’t excuse this man’s behavior. In her own country the commoners were anxious to please her. Every time she left the palace they lined the streets to wave at her and present her with gifts. Perhaps this man was a prince and that was why he acted as if he had rights of familiarity. She dismissed that idea. He was an American and all Americans were equal—they were all commoners—no royalty, no aristocrats, just a nation full of commoners.
She sat down on the beach. So why wasn’t he bringing her food? Even an American should know enough to bring a princess food.