27. Nina
27
NINA
After docking in Antina, Jace and Roman leave for the house while we three girls search for french fries at a nearby restaurant.
“Wait—where’s our luggage?” I ask, mid-chew of a fry.
Vanessa chuckles. “It will be waiting at the house for us.” She plops on a sunhat and guides us into the village where the paths are like a fairytale. Although the walls and buildings are dirty white, the roofs and shutters are either sky blue or shades of pink. Cats trot along the ledges, hopping from one side to the other. I thought the stone roads in Kosita were hell, but Antina is worse. My eyes glue to the ground with each step. Mason even catches Maia’s stumble once or twice. Shops flank either side of the narrow walkways. Trellises provide shade in some sections, the greenery and pink flowers making a pleasant umbrella.
“Neen! I found a black cat!” Maia squeals.
Vanessa blanches. “You don’t think they are bad luck?”
My sister gives the cat little scratches. “Look at this face! How can anyone look at this precious creature and think he’s bad luck?”
Just then, the feline stretches its long body and rolls to expose its belly. Maia damn near cries. She presses a hand to her heart.
“Nina. I want him. This is my baby now.”
I touch her shoulder. “This is his home. You don’t want to take him away from it.”
As expected, she pouts. I gather my sister in my arms and steer her away from the cat. We get little relief from the heat, and I drink in every breeze as it whooshes the skirt of my long dress around me. After following the path downhill, the roads get wide enough for cars and we almost get mowed down by a motorbike.
“Ay, prosíttento,” Wesley snaps, gripping my arm to push me out of the way as it zips by.
Be careful.
The same thing happened my first night in Maldana. In a subtle moment, I realize he’s been in my life the entire time I’ve been in this country. As if he’s weaved into my attitude and assumptions toward Maldanians.
I love this country.
Would that mean ? —
No.
While I might be turned on every time he speaks Maldanian, those thoughts will lead me nowhere. I scold myself for forgetting so quickly.
“They drive so damn fast here,” Maia says, tugging me deeper into the sidewalk.
Each time I meet the eyes of a stranger, I wonder what they’d do if they discovered I’m the princess and possible future queen. Would they attempt to hurt me like that man did? It guts me to realize that I’d be hated for existing.
We don’t want you here.
Maia’s gasp rips me from my spiraling thoughts. “Ice cream!”
“Yes,” I insist. “I’m dying out here.”
My bodyguard curves around me to open the door for us. It’s nothing new, but he pointedly doesn’t look at me. I roll my eyes while passing him.
What I thought was an ice cream shop turns out to be a bakery that sells gelato. Maia squeals at the macaroons and their reasonable prices. I can feel us planning to buy a bunch of desserts just because we can.
The woman baking behind the counter stops mid-whisk to greet us.
“Ne tora di pomke?” I ask. She replies in Maldanian, telling me the next one will be done soon if I want to wait. I nod. “Sì, parafóré.”
We order gelato in the meantime. Before I pay, I glance behind me to check if any of the three bodyguards want something, and Mason actually takes me up on it. We settle amongst two tables with Vanessa and Maia in the chairs against the wall. Wesley disappears to the bathroom, and I take the chair in front of my cousin.
I slowly eat the gelato, savoring its cool taste in my sore throat. Did I apply enough foundation? I should have double-checked before stepping off the boat.
I flinch when Vanessa leans forward to lazily wrap her arms around me. She plants her chin on my shoulder. “Your bodyguard is flirting,” she says.
“What?” At first, I don’t think it’s me she’s talking to. Wesley doesn’t flirt. He’s far too serious.
And sure enough, he’s standing at the glass display counter with an elbow propped up. The perky blonde on the other side—the same one who greeted us—is so invested in the conversation that she wouldn’t notice if an earthquake struck. They speak in Maldanian, but they’re too far for me to translate. I lean my head against Vanessa’s and ask, “Can you tell what they’re saying?”
My cousin hums, straining an ear. The baker lifts her arms on the case, closer to Wesley’s, as she swings her ponytail over her shoulder. Shouldn’t that bitch be wearing a hairnet?
“She’s talking about the beach and how she loves to go there. He’s saying that he likes it there, too.”
“How riveting,” Maia mumbles.
It’s a conversation. I shouldn’t be jealous, but betrayal coils around me in a searing grip. He told me just a few hours ago that he dislikes being around people. What makes it so easy to talk to her and not me? Does that mean what happened in the bathroom last night was truly out of pity?
Maia looks at her bodyguard. “You should start flirting, too, Mason.” She gestures to his face. “Ladies love that silver fox look.”
“I’m married,” Mason replies, and I raise my brows, but Maia squawks in response.
“ What—since when ? You don’t wear a ring!”
He clears his throat. “She died.”
“Awwww.” She leans across the table and grabs his hand. “We’ll talk about getting you back on the horse later.”
“No, we won’t.”
“We’ll see.”
“We won’t.”
“Sure,” Maia sings.
While Vanessa turns her focus elsewhere and my sister finds a way to debate with everyone possible, I untangle from my cousin’s arms and head to Wesley with squared shoulders. I slip into the space between his chest and the display counter.
I peek into the paper bag on the surface. “Is this ours?”
“O-oh—yes,” the baker stutters.
“Gracea mucho!” I say, turning to Wesley and holding up the bag. “Carry this for me?”
He looks at me, confused, but accepts it, nonetheless.
So much for getting over him.
After walking through a few narrow and bumpy streets, we arrive at our destination—a white house tucked between other pristine courtyards. The walls are just high enough that I can’t see over them.
The path to the other side of the house reveals an infinity pool, a few lounge chairs, and a broad, unobstructed view of the sea. It’s eight o’clock at night and the sun is just beginning to set on the horizon.
“I can die happy,” Maia says.
I nod, marveling at the vibrant shades of orange. “This is where I live now.”
Remembering that I’m here because my birth mother was a queen makes it even more surreal. Vanessa takes us on a quick tour of the three-hundred-year-old house, pointing out its modern upgrades made for longevity. I head straight to the shower when I’m brought to my room. Though I typically lock the door when I shower, I leave it open for the possibility that I fall asleep under the water.