Nyssa’s gaze drifted to the tiara atop the dresser.
“I have to go. Remember to greet your guests at the door, and don’t go inside until the last one has arrived—it’s rude.”
“Okey-dokey.” Nyssa repeated the phrase her driver used when he dropped her off at the hotel.
“Okey-dokey?” Her mother’s nose wrinkled tight; the sight reminded Nyssa of when her younger brother, YB, had hidden a dead grouper behind the bookshelf.
“It’s an American phrase—it means …” Nyssa rolled over the connotation in her head. “Yes, Mother.”
Mother’s lips puckered. She didn’t quite believe Nyssa, as was evidenced in her eyes, but she wasn’t willing to argue the point. “Oh. Before I forget, I’ve arranged a surprise for you tonight.”
“Really?” They’d discussed several options for music for the ball. Nyssa wanted a brass band to play 50s swing music. That was a no. The balloons for decorations? Not classy enough for a ball. Ice cream Sundays? Too messy. All of it a compromise between Nyssa’s shoo-bop dreams and Mother’s simple but elegant tastes. However, Nyssa held out hope that something in the evening would strike her fancy.
“It should arrive during the ball.”
“Thank you, Mother. That’s very sweet of you.” An Elvis impersonator? Surely not.
“You can thank me after you see it.”
“I love you.” Nyssa waved.
“The love is returned,” answered the queen with an indulgent smile and wave of her own.
Nyssa hit the end call button. She immediately sagged, stretching the dressmaker’s talents to the limit. Rising slowly, she approached the dresser.
Her tiara was made of island gold with three small points. She hardly wore the ornament. When she did, she often forgot it was there because it was so delicate and light. Once, she had forgotten and fallen asleep with it. The next morning, she’d found it tangled in her black tresses so desperately that it had taken her mother and two villagers an hour to work it out. After fifteen minutes of tugging, yanking, and combing, Nyssa was in favor of scissors. The women clucked their disapproval and continued on as if she hadn’t spoken.
Tonight, the symbol of her status weighed on her mind much more than it weighed in her palms.
Mother was right: she was half Aradian. She supposed that was the half of her that enjoyed the look of the world’s most uncomfortable dress tracing her hips and the way mascara drew out her eyes. That part of her stood straight and didn’t blush when bowed to. But she wasn’t here to represent that half of her heritage. She was here to represent Zimrada, where the king’s hands were as weathered as his field workers’ hands. Setting the tiara back on the dresser, she ran her hand down her long black hair and rushed to answer Kingston’s knock at the door.
“Are you ready, Princess?” His voice was deeper than the great waters. This was the first time he’d spoken to her. In all their traveling, he’d motioned, pointed, and nodded, but said nary a word. In a way, she’d stopped seeing him as her traveling companion and more like a statue that moved.
“I am.” She smiled.
He did not smile in return, strengthening her mental image of him carved out of granite. His eyes went to her head as if he had heard the conversation she shared with Mother and knew she disobeyed. He couldn’t have overheard, not with the heavy wooden door between her room and the hallway. Perhaps he disapproved of her leaving the tiara behind for another reason. If that was the case, he did not lend voice to his thoughts. She moved in front of him to press the elevator button.
America was full of wonderful amenities, and without the elevator, she wasn’t sure she could make it to the ball—the dress wouldn’t allow her to lift her knees very high. Heaven help her if someone asked her to tango.
She scolded herself for such romantic thoughts while on an important mission. The only one she needed to tango with this week was the Secretary of Defense.
Although … a waltz would be perfectly manageable in this dress and a welcome distraction depending upon the partner. There may be an understanding that she and Prince Marius from Riodan would wed one day, but that didn’t mean she had to hang herself on a hook and wait for him; nor did it mean she should lock herself away from trying new things. There was a whole wide world out there and she was about to get her first taste. If a handsome stranger asked her to dance, she would say yes.
With a firm nod that belied the butterflies in her stomach, she stepped into the lobby, where she was greeted by no less than twelve hotel employees, all dressed in gray fitted jackets and matching slacks. Their cuffs had shiny silver buttons and there was a red rose pinned to their lapels.
“Your highness.” A woman with hair no longer than an inch stepped forward and bowed at the waist. “I’m Norma Kendrick. I worked with the queen to organize tonight’s event.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you.” Nyssa dipped her head.
“Thank you, the pleasure is all mine.” Norma put her arm out to the side. “I’d like you to meet the staff for this evening’s event.” She went down the line, introducing everyone from the head waiter to the valet and the chef in his puffy hat.
Nyssa greeted each by name and shook their hands. “Thank you all for making this a memorable evening for myself and the guests. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
They exchanged awkward glances.
“No, it’s you who should call on us,” Norma insisted.
“My mother would love it here,” Nyssa commented.
Norma’s smile widened considerably. “Come inside and I’ll show you to your table.” Norma motioned for Nyssa to go first.
“It’s tradition for the host to greet their guests at the door.” Nyssa positioned herself next to the huge double doors,
