24. Nina
24
NINA
My head is heavy in the morning. The dryness in my throat is so painful that I throw myself toward the nightstand, knocking off my phone and nearly tipping the lamp over to reach my water bottle. I chug the water despite the dizziness and throbbing ache.
I collapse back onto the pillow with instant regret. My neck twinges in pain, the soreness echoing through my body. Tears spring to my eyes.
Powerless .
I stood there doing nothing. I let him choke me.
We don’t want you here.
A painful sob chokes out of me. I clench the comforter and fight to inhale a single breath. But the raw, paralyzing feeling of last night rips at my throat and blocks my airway. I wish I hadn’t woken up. I wish I could stay asleep until this trauma passed like a bad cold. I dig my face into the pillow until I’m composed enough to breathe.
My first instinct is to call out for Wesley. He let me cry on him last night, took care of me; he’s done more than enough and I don’t want to bother him. Besides, what would he do? Crawl into bed with me?
Perhaps it’s not too far-fetched of an idea considering he washed my hair. It was intimate in a way I hadn’t experienced before. I might have been naked, but nothing about it was sexual. I felt him weaving into my soul, thread by thread. It’s not because he stopped my attack. If I told anyone about my growing feelings for him, they’d say I’m projecting my trauma. He washed my hair . A normal bodyguard wouldn’t do that, right? Or was it out of pity?
For thirty minutes, I toss and turn until the need to pee is too intense to ignore. Afterward, I look at my reflection for the first time. I pointedly ignored it last night, too afraid to face how much of a wreck I am. Red spots scatter through my right eyeball. A purple handprint marks my throat. It’s noticeable but will fade quickly. I’ve never been one to bruise easily.
I shove my feet into slippers and check the time. 7:13. My eyes are still heavy from exhaustion. I poke my head outside my room, expecting to listen for any sign of life downstairs, but I jump at the strange man in Wesley’s spot. He has sandy hair, thick brows, and a lean build.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Silas.”
“Where’s Wesley?”
“He is sleeping in that room, Your Highness,” Silas replies in a strong accent, nodding to the room across the hall where the door lies cracked open. Of course. Did I expect him to stay awake forever? He needs rest.
“How long has he been asleep?” I ask, my voice suddenly quieter.
“I take over his spot for three hours.”
“Okay. Don’t wake him up.”
“He instructed me to wake him when you do.”
“Well, don’t. Let him sleep.”
Silas hesitates. He opens his mouth to speak, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I must do as he says.”
If I was him, I’d be frightened to disobey Wesley, too. He was fiercely protective last night. But not everything is up to him, and Silas should be more concerned about my wrath if he doesn’t let Wesley sleep.
I lean closer. “Silas, do not wake him up unless you want me to make your life a living hell.”
Do I know how I would do that? No, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. He stiffens, considers for a moment, then nods. “Understood, madam.”
Downstairs, I ask Dora in Maldanian if she could bring me a cup of coffee. She doesn’t stare at my neck like the other hotel employees. Dora brings me coffee with a slice of warm tora di pomke once I settle on a lounge chair under the shade.
“For you,” she says.
“Oh—gracea mucho, Dora.”
“Parafóré.”
I’ve been receiving special treatment ever since I arrived here, but Dora brought me this pastry out of pity. There are worse things than pity cake, I suppose. I spend the next ten minutes in the silence of the garden until Maia joins me. She doesn’t ask how I feel, thankfully.
“Where’s Beck?”
I sip my coffee. “Sleeping. I told the other guy not to wake him.”
“Dad and Ruby are on their way back. They didn’t find out what happened until they woke up this morning.”
I hadn’t even considered my parents over the last twelve hours. It’s a good thing Dad wasn’t here; he would’ve been overbearing and worsened my anxiety.
Dora walks outside, her shoulders tense and face struck. “Uh—Prince Jason and Princess Vanessa are here to see you.”
Her shock is endearing; I can only imagine her reaction when she learns out I’m royal, too. My cousins walk outside.
“Gracea, Dora.”
I sit up on the lounge chair as Vanessa lowers onto the edge. Jace pulls up another seat.
“How do you feel?” Vanessa asks, almost hesitant.
I clear my throat, trying to hide the aching wince. “Like someone tried to choke the life out of me.”
She falls quiet and glances at Jace, who leans his elbows on his knees.
“I, uh… When I was eleven,” he begins, “I was away on holiday—in a camp. A man with a gun showed up looking for me… I had to hide in a small cabin for three hours as the police searched for him.”
Maia perks. “Did they ever find him?”
He nods. “He had a—rifle.” He stares at me, unwavering. “And grenades.”
“They told you that?” I ask. I have a hard time believing they would’ve revealed that information to an eleven-year-old.
“I heard my mother talking when she thought I was asleep.”
“That must have been scary,” Maia says.
“It was. He didn’t touch me, but I understand the fear. People don’t think of us as humans sometimes.”
I don’t say anything. Is this a regular occurrence? Will a lot more people try to hurt me in the future? I believe Wesley when he promises no one would ever touch me again, but he won’t be at my side forever. The reminder twists my stomach painfully.
“We want to take you out of the city,” Vanessa says in the quiet, placing a hand over mine. “We can go on a boat ride along the coast toward Antina. It is a very beautiful and peaceful town. A lot quieter than Kosita.”
“For how long?”
“As long as you want. A night, a week.”
“Where will we stay?”
“We will drive to the boat and take it down the coast to a small neighborhood where we have a house. No one knows about it. Very private.”
“I promise you’ll like it,” Jace affirms.
I look at Maia, who only says, “It’s up to you. I go where you go.”
Part of me hates the pressure. I hate to disappoint her if she wants to go, but a change would be good, and I want to see more of the country.
“I would love to.”
When my cousins leave to arrange the plans and transportation, I don’t get a chance to slip upstairs with Maia to pack because my parents arrive.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Dad says, dropping his bag. “Beverly didn’t call until this morning.”
I’m enveloped in a hug in the middle of the lobby. My body tenses when his arms wrap around my shoulders, far too close to my neck for comfort. I fight every instinct to shove him off as my heart thunders in my chest. I squirm out of the hug when I feel his hand on the back of my head. He only means well, but I battle the returning emotions from last night. I don’t want anyone touching me above my shoulders.
“This happened last night?” Ruby asks, surveying the damage to my neck. “Why the hell didn’t Beverly tell us right away?” I’ve never seen her this angry until now.
“I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are,” Dad snaps, his hands shaking with either worry or anger.
“Dad—please.”
“Where’s the man who did this to you?”
“In custody.”
“Did he say why?”
“Pierce,” Ruby warns, noting my demeanor. She squeezes my arm and brushes a curl from my face. “Let’s calm down. It’s been a long night for her. She needs rest.”
“You’re right.” He sighs, and I notice the redness under his eyes. Ruby’s, too. They were crying. I shouldn’t be shocked—they’re my parents.
“Vanessa and Jace invited Maia and me to travel down the coast to Antina. We’re gonna go.”
“Are you sure—” Dad cuts himself off after a glare from my stepmother. “Okay. What about—your security will be with you, right?”
“Yes, Wes—Beck will be there. He’ll probably be more overbearing than you.”
“Good.” He hesitates as if searching for the right words. “I know we don’t see eye to eye right now, but I love you, Nina. So much.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
He pulls me into another hug, his arms low this time. I let my head fall into the crook of his neck.
“My baby girl,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to my temple. I’m still so upset with him. I expected more from Dad—more of everything. And I realize now that it’s not simply because he’s my father, but because I love and want him to be a better person.
It’s ten o’clock by the time I’m done packing, which means Wesley had almost six hours of sleep. I tiptoe into the room to see him fast asleep on his back, his face soft and unguarded. Typically, his expression is irritatingly neutral. Nothing fazes him. I could stare at this peaceful version of him forever, but I don’t have the time nor patience. I nudge his shoulder with my palm.
“Wesl—”
He snatches my wrist before I can finish, his iron grip softening as soon as he sees me. It happens so fast that I don’t have the chance to be frightened. So much for being in a deep slumber.
“Nina,” he whispers with a huff, almost relieved as his thumb brushes the inside of my wrist. “Are you all right?”
My stomach flips from the way he whispers my name in a husky morning voice. It rattles me enough that I forget to answer at first. “Oh—I-I’m fine.”
Wesley blinks himself awake and I regret not waiting another hour for him to rest. I rake my gaze over his messy hair and hunched shoulders and my belly churns from the thought of shoving him back against the bed and crawling on top of him. He runs his hands over his face.
“What time is it? Where’s Silas? He was supposed to take over.”
“It’s ten o’clock?—”
“Ten?”
“I told him to let you sleep.”
He shakes his head, snatching his watch from the nightstand. “He shouldn’t hav?—”
“I threatened him,” I blurt.
He recoils as he fastens the watch. “You… threatened him.”
I interlace my fingers in front of me. “I sort of told him I would make his life a living hell if he woke you up.”
“Sort of?”
I whack his shoulder. “Stop repeating everything I’m saying and pack a bag.” I can’t help but smile in excitement. “We’re going to Antina.”