Page 19 of A Princess, Stolen (A Kiss of Revenge, Blood, and Love #1)

However, what about his parents? His family? Was there no one left?

My family is none of your business! You have no right to say those words. To voice them aloud. To even think them! Not you! Especially not you …

What had happened to him that those words would make him so angry? Blindly, I tried to look in Troy’s direction. “Tucekilemeur—what does it mean?”

He snorted. “Do you seriously think I’m going to tell you?”

“Your boss said they were words. So it can’t be a first name. Why did you even tell me if you don’t want to tell me what they mean?” I asked.

“You know,” Troy said, and I was startled because he seemed much closer than before.

“Because of his sister, he only makes promises that he can keep. In his eyes, he failed back then. He broke that promise, and even in death, he swore to his little sister that it would never happen again. Promises mean everything in his family.”

After he left, I returned to my seat on the floor and thought about what he had told me. The ship’s boss was definitely the boy from Baton Rouge. I should have been happy about that because now I should feel safer, but instead, bitterness grew inside me.

He definitely knew who I was and he didn’t care.

I had always associated the old Nathan with adventure and freedom.

A common bond because we both knew what grief meant.

Over the years, I had treasured that summer in Louisiana in my memories, recalling it whenever I felt alone and locked up in the penthouse as if I were in a fortress.

Safe but not free. But if this was Nathan now, my memory and the whole summer would crumble to dust because he was trampling my freedom.

He mocked me. He laughed at me. In fact, if he was Nathan, I would despise him even more than a stranger. Somehow, that made me sad.

I thought of his bracelet still stuck in one of my braids. I had carried it with me for so long to remind me of all the feelings Nathan had awakened in me, but what did it mean anymore? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Over the next few days, I discovered that all the men were never awake at the same time.

There were shifts they called off duty. I learned to distinguish most of the voices from one another.

The men on one watch usually stayed the same, which I learned by their voices.

Troy, Sparta, Pan, and one they called Icarus were always awake at the same time, so they were definitely on the same shift.

Sometimes, toward evening I guessed, music played, glasses or bottles clinked, and the smell of roast and potatoes wafted down to me.

They ate together, laughed, and played cards.

They showered in the corridor where I was held captive and they mocked me, stuck in a kind of cage, dirty, sticky, and hungry.

They all hated me. Troy seemed to be the only exception and I felt more worthless than ever even though I was probably more valuable to them than a diamond.

I asked several times if they could remove the blindfold, at least for an hour, but they merely laughed about it, especially Pan, Sparta, and the one they called Taurus.

“Spoiled little princess, we not here to powder your ass” was the nicest thing Pan said to me.

I have no idea where Troy was during those moments and who knows if he would have defended me at all.

I hadn’t yet figured out if there was some kind of hierarchy here.

I always sat motionless and today was no different.

The sweet smell of peanut butter chocolate brownies wafted through the corridor and my stomach became hard and tiny like a walnut.

The hunger was almost unbearable and my circulation would soon fail if I didn’t eat something soon.

I was already feeling dizzy. Tired, I closed my eyes behind the blindfold.

The leader, probably Nathan, had tied it tighter a few times so that it wouldn’t slip.

Several times, I was tempted to call him by his name, but then I didn’t dare. Maybe I was wrong.

Now, I thought of my old home. It was the smell of the brownies that reminded me of Boston. We had lived there before Mom drowned. I tried to remember the kitchen, the dark, fine wood, and the long work surface on which Mom had sometimes baked with me without any help.

“Mom? Mom, the brownies are ready!” I saw myself with my cinnamon-brown braids in my little gold dress standing in front of the oven, smelling the wonderfully sweet aroma wafting out of it.

“Mom?” I walked past the long counter, searching, with my white stuffed rabbit, Mr. Sparkles, tucked tightly under my arm.

Everything had a high polish, spotlessly clean, the work of Penny our maid.

Mom never actually cleaned, she didn’t have to.

“She’s probably in the living room,” I said to Mr. Sparkles. “She’s probably lying down.”

In fact, she was lying on the couch. She looked beautiful, like a sleeping angel with cinnamon-colored hair spilling over her shoulders onto the ebony-black designer sofa.

“Mom, get up! You have to get the brownies out of the oven!” I knew I wasn’t allowed to do it myself, but Dad and our family doctor had also told me that Mom needed a lot of sleep.

Normally, I would have called my nanny, Claire, but she had left early today because of an appointment.

Nervously, I dug my finger into Mr. Sparkles’ stomach as I always did when I was stressed. “Mom?”

“Shh! Quiet, sweetie. Mom’s sleeping!”

“Dad!” I whirled around and ran into Dad’s arms, which he held out for me. “You’re already home!”

“I finished early. Mom called me because she was so tired.”

I let go of Dad and pointed to the kitchen. “The brownies are ready. The clock on the stove rang.” I felt very grown up at that moment for taking over Mom’s task.

Dad grinned broadly and winked at me. “Did I just hear brownies?”

I giggled.

“You know, I’m dying for brownies! Come on, let’s get them out of the oven!”

On impulse, I looked at the sofa where Mom was sleeping. “How much longer will Mom continue to sleep so much?” I asked. “She never has time for me!”

Dad smiled and took my hand. “She had a bad bout of the flu; it just takes a while.”

“It’s been taking a while, Dad!” Suddenly I was sad, so Dad squeezed my fingers and then let go. “First to the oven!”

“Hey.” A voice brought me back. It belonged to the leader, who had surely come to give me water. However, he didn’t come in, at least, I didn’t hear anything to indicate that he had.

“Troy baked brownies,” he said, sounding much nicer than usual. “Do you want a piece?”

I turned my head away because I didn’t want him to see my tears. I had been crying without realizing it, probably because of the memory of Mom and because I missed Dad so terribly. Maybe even because of the sweet smell and my unbearable hunger.

“You have to eat something,” he said, now quieter and strangely touched.

His gentle tone suddenly made me angry. “I thought you were going to treat me like a hostage,” I said bitterly.

He sighed. “Would you like a piece, yes or no?”

“No.” In truth, I would have given anything for a piece of cake and I would have even swallowed my pride for it, but I didn’t want to ask about the ingredients.

“I’ll take the rope off you so you can eat by yourself. What do you say?”

“No.” Even though the offer was tempting, it would be too dangerous.

“Okay. Then not.” He laughed briefly. “Then I’ll take it back with me and eat it myself.”

I had to swallow. Suddenly, I felt incredibly alone. I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t want him to stay either. And I wanted to hit him with something. I don’t know why. Maybe because he was standing there being so pleasant that it confused me. Or maybe because he had laughed so stupidly.

I looked in his direction or at least tried.

“You know, you can keep pretending you don’t know me, but I know exactly who you are.

I remembered your name, just like you asked me to…

Nathan.” In the silence that followed, you could have heard a pin drop.

I could no longer sense anything, no feeling or movement, perhaps because I was so tense.

“Why don’t you say anything?” I whispered. What if I had hit the nail on the head and he was now afraid that I would betray him later? I wanted to see his face, the expression on it. Maybe he would drag me to my feet and squeeze my throat. Maybe he would just throw me overboard!

In my panic, I barely noticed him leaving. I only registered it when his footfalls sounded far away.

“Nathan?” I called out. “Wait! Please, talk to me!” He didn’t stop.

But, in my mind, I saw him in front of me since I had drawn him as an adult over and over again: the narrow sea-gray eyes with eyelashes like raven feathers, the harmonious lips like seagulls’ wings, the serious angry face, and the dark hair that reached his shoulders.

He had always been a fantasy figure in my mind, just another picture in my collection of paintings.

Unreal and a pipe dream. But in my dreams, I had secretly imagined what he was like.

However, reality had absolutely nothing in common with these fantasies.

Nothing at all.

What had happened to change him so much?

Over the next few hours, I could have repeatedly slapped myself for my naive approach.

I had no idea if Nathan knew how well I could draw and whether it had played a role during their research on me.

I used to post my pictures on Instagram a lot, Dad, however, had told me two months ago that he didn’t like it.

My paintings were a bit like a soul striptease and this involuntary exposure could lead to wild speculations about me. So, I deleted my account.