Page 45 of A Princess, Stolen (A Kiss of Revenge, Blood, and Love #1)

H azy morning light filtered through the tiny porthole, bathing the room in an unreal light. Nathan was no longer here, and the room felt terrifyingly empty and meaningless without him.

For a few seconds, I just sat there, clutching Nathan’s bracelet, trying to calm down.

There was still a deep, icy fear inside me that could wash over me like a wave at any moment.

It wasn’t only my fear of Isaac or the fact that I’d almost drowned, there was something inside me, a memory I couldn’t detect that I didn’t want to see, but I knew it was hidden deep inside me.

For a moment, I covered my eyes with my hands and felt my cold fingers on my throbbing eyelids. Then I looked at the dresser. Someone had left me a tray with a steaming drink and a sandwich.

Carefully, I brought it to the bed and read the note next to it.

For Will.

No nuts or eggs. Promise. Oh yes, if you need fresh clothes, feel free to use my things again.

N.

A touch of warmth returned to my cold limbs.

I carefully sipped the peppermint tea and took a few bites of the sandwich.

So much was going through my mind. I wondered how Nathan was going to prevent Isaac from coming on board since a few of his people were on Isaac’s side.

They all had a common plan that Nathan certainly couldn’t simply sabotage.

Or could he? And, if so, who would support him?

Or would there be a mutiny? And in case everything went smoothly, how was Nathan going to get my father to meet his demands? How long would he hold me prisoner?

I stroked the rough fibers of the bracelet.

And it doesn’t sparkle like your Mr. Sparkles …

I felt that something still connected us. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make Nathan abandon the plan and release me.

There was only one thing I could deduce from this: My father must be a real monster in his eyes if he was risking my safety for that one thing.

Wearily, I rubbed my forehead, peeled myself out of bed, and removed a change of clothes from the dresser. I had to shower and change, and I urgently needed to use the bathroom. But more importantly, I needed and wanted to finally thank Pan.

I paused for a moment in front of the closed door and listened.

The hallway was quiet. It could mean that Sparta was sleeping, but he could just as easily be awake in his cell, just waiting for me to come out of the hole like a mouse.

But it was useless. I had to use the bathroom and I couldn’t hide from him forever.

Timidly, I opened the door and stared at the gigantic body in front of me.

“Pan?” I asked cautiously since he wasn’t wearing the oxblood bandana he usually wore. My goodness, he and his brother were the real clones.

“Prinsessa! You back on feet!” He turned abruptly and hugged me so tightly that I heard my ribs groan and I accidentally dropped my change of clothes. I felt like I was in a fruit press, but I let it happen.

“Thank you!” I said as he let me go. I looked up at him from below. “If you hadn’t been so attentive, I would have…”

“Attentive!” He laughed loudly and picked up my clothes.

“Good word. Prinsessa speak. I eyes and ears everywhere. I watch after you.” Suddenly, I couldn’t imagine that he had seemed so scary to me at first. Now he seemed more like a good-natured grizzly.

“You want shower?” he asked, pushing the clothes back into my hand. “I must know.”

“Bathroom and shower,” I confirmed, pointing down the corridor.

I glanced across the corridor at the cell.

Sparta was lying motionless on a mattress covered by a duvet.

I didn’t see anything of him other than his dreadlocks, but it hurt me that after everything he had done, they were granting him a luxury that I hadn’t been granted.

At least, not in the beginning. They hadn’t given me a blanket or a mattress.

“Is he sleeping?” I whispered.

Pan’s expression became ominous. “If up to me, I blow lights out. Then sleep forever!”

I thought it was simply an empty threat and that Pan couldn’t even kill a fly, but I nodded and clung to my change of clothes, grateful for the postponement of this encounter.

I went to the bathroom and then quickly lathered up in the shower because I wanted to return while Sparta was still asleep.

Partially wet, I slipped into the fresh clothes.

Men’s black underwear, black jeans, and a black hoodie, what else.

Despite the probably serious setting, I had to smile because it was something typical of Nathan.

Like his brief smile and his constantly crossed arms.

I quickly rubbed my hair with a towel and plaited two braids.

Did I see in the mirror that death had almost kissed me on the lips? Hesitantly, I wiped my forearm across the fogged-up mirror.

A feeling of oppression spread through me.

I didn’t see death, but I saw Mom. Her face was my face.

Everyone said my mom was a beauty and yet this resemblance now triggered a strange tightness in me.

Mom had wanted to leave Dad, and for some reason, I was angry about that.

Perhaps that plan had triggered the whole tragedy.

I had forgotten three whole days! What had happened?

Why hadn’t we left like she had planned, but instead, went out on the yacht with Dad?

As if on autopilot, I removed the hairbands from the braids and combed the damp strands with my fingers until my hair fell thick and wavy over my shoulders. Then, I took a deep breath.

Better! Definitely better! Not quite like Mom in my memory .

Was I angry because it might have been Mom’s fault that Dad had to choose between us in the first place? Was I angry at

all or was the feeling inside me something completely different?

Was I jealous of Mom because I could never replace her for Dad, no matter how hard I tried?

As I hurried back, I noticed how quiet it was on the Agamemnon. The hum of the engine was missing as was the subtle vibration under my feet.

“Are we anchored?” I asked Pan, glancing into Sparta’s cell.

I only heard Pan’s “For discussion” in passing.

My pulse raced. Sparta was awake. He was crouched behind the bars, and when our eyes met, he pulled himself up using the bars.

He staggered briefly and a shadow of pain passed over his gaunt features.

“You!” He pressed his face against the bars. “You lied!” His eyes burned as if he were devastated. “You’re only angry with me because you think I let you down. Did you jump in to frame me for murder? Is that your kind of revenge, princess?”

“Quiet, you bastard!” I heard Pan threaten behind me, but I merely shook my head. I couldn’t stop staring at him, and I wondered if they had beaten him.

“The worst part is that I would have done it. Run off with you and the ring. I would have betrayed them all!” Sparta coughed and made a face as if someone was ramming an iron bar through his chest. For a horrible moment, I thought he was going to throw up, but the fit stopped.

“I would have betrayed them all,” he whispered again, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“Quiet!” Pan hissed again, but I walked hypnotized toward the bars, which Sparta was now clinging to so tightly that his knuckles were chalk white.

Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Do you want to know why I didn’t come to the meeting point?”

“Yes.” I was still in a daze, but I also felt the growing fear rising from my bones like a chill.

Sparta stared at me, the red veins in his eyes glowing like hot wires. “Nathan changed course without telling any of the crew. We weren’t at the Outer Banks. No banks, no boats—it’s that simple.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Nathan wants to stop Isaac from coming on board at all costs. Because he wants to do this thing alone now. Because of you.”

“Nathan changed course?” I stared at Sparta in disbelief.

“Sometime during the night. Nobody knew. But I realized it when I went to the bridge to send the SOS signal. Why do you think we’re anchored?

Nathan has to explain to his people first…

you’ve turned his head…you’ve put a spell on them all.

Pan, Troy, now Ilias, and Icarus too.” He hung from the bars like a monkey.

He looked sick. Feverish or insane, maybe both.

“You should have told me,” I said.

“I was busy, did you think about that?” Sparta scratched a pustule but immediately grabbed the bars again. “You have no idea what’s going on here. And nobody is telling you the truth. But I…”

“You quiet now!” Pan pushed past me and Sparta abruptly retreated to the back wall.

“You can’t come in here,” he said with a mad sound that could have been a laugh.

Despite his size, he seemed almost puny compared to Pan.

“Nathan is the only one who has a key. Not you… Pan! ” With his spidery fingers, he brushed the dreadlocks from his face.

“Look at me, princess! Look at me closely! What do you see?”

“Quiet,” Pan growled. His huge body was tense to his core, looking as if he wanted to rip out the bars one by one if necessary. I glanced from him to Sparta and was suddenly no longer so certain if Pan was truly harmless.

“I see a coward,” I said now, braver because of Pan’s proximity. “You wanted…”

“I’m dying!” he suddenly screamed so loudly that I flinched. “I. Am. Doomed.” For a few seconds, he breathed in and out deeply as if his words had shocked him.

“You’re dying?” I was completely perplexed, but all the evidence that he was seriously ill was gathering in my mind. His feverish eyes, his emaciated face, his constant cough, and those strange pustules. The camphor ointment.