Becoming Princess Eden: Book One: How They Met (Seahorse Island 1)

by Lisa Lee

  “But—” I began, wanting to know more, but I was interrupted.

  “I can’t tell you more,” she said. “As it is, you probably know more than you should.”

  “How do you expect me to succeed in whatever it is I’m expected to do if I’m kept in the dark?” I asked, frustrated enough to keep going. “If we are going to be wives, why all the secrecy? Why doesn’t anyone come back to visit after they graduate? Why don’t I have to take shots like the other girls?”

  Mrs. Grey’s face had become scrunched up as she looked at me.

  I was startled when Mrs. Flint answered my question. “I think Mrs. Grey has provided you with all the information that you—or any of your friends—need at this time. Just trust that we have your best interests at heart,” she stated, her tone cool and measured. I hadn’t heard her enter Mrs. Grey’s office. As she spoke, she placed her hand on my shoulder. I resented the gesture.

  I lowered my eyes and nodded my headed slightly. I was having one of those angry moments when I just wanted to explode. I wanted to smash the vase with the lovely yellow flowers against the wall. I wanted to break the electronic notepads. I wanted to yell and scream and cry. Instead, I held still and tense.

  “You may be excused,” said Mrs. Flint.

  I nodded without speaking again and left. I was keyed up with various thoughts scattering around my head like fall leaves during a strong wind. I walked a few feet and plunged right into Mrs. Stout’s substantial form. She came around the corner just as I was walking past.

  I said, “Excuse me,” and tried to move past, but she shoved me back against the wall.

  “What were you doing in Mrs. Grey’s office?” she hissed, pressing her right hand down on my left shoulder hard enough to hurt.

  “I was just telling her—” I started, when I remembered Mrs. Grey’s warnings. “I was just making sure I had the right classes.”

  “You know what? You shouldn’t be here at all, not with Giovanni dead.” She practically spat the words at me. I could feel her spit sprinkle my face and struggled not to show my revulsion.

  “I had nothing to do with Giovanni’s death,” I said defensively. I looked around, hoping in vain for another person to pass by.

  Her eyes narrowed even further as her doughy face leaned closer to mine. She pinned one of my shoulders to the wall with one hand and pressed her other hand, balled into a fist, hard into my stomach. I could barely breathe.

  She said, “Everybody in this house thinks they are so damn special! You are not special, you murderers!” Mrs. Stout’s hand moved from my shoulder and closed around my neck to squeeze hard. She added her other hand to add more force.

  I realized the danger too late as I clawed at her strangling hands. I didn’t have the strength to overcome her brute strength. I almost gave in, but I wasn’t quite ready to let go of everything in me that lived. My hands, of their own volition, found themselves clenching against Mrs. Stout’s face, my thumbs pressing against her eyes with all my remaining strength. I heard her howl like a dog in protest. Then I passed out.

  There was only black nothingness, no dreams.

  EIGHT

  Gideon, Atonement

  As Eden escaped into darkness, Gideon lay awake in the quiet of the night. He had dreamed of the knitting girl again. It was almost the same dream as he remembered from two years ago: the same dress, the same turned-away position, and the same glorious hair. But instead of knitting, she held her face in her hands and cried, the vibrantly scarlet yarn forgotten. He watched as the ball of scrunched-up yarn fell from the chair onto the gleaming hardwood floor. It began to unravel as it rolled away.

  When he woke this time from the dream, Gideon lay rigid. After the first dream, Gabriel and Lily’s baby had been stillborn. Now, Lily was pregnant with twins. And he’d had another dream.

  Months ago, when Gideon saw on his watch phone’s newsfeed that Lily was pregnant. he had felt relief. He remembered from a conversation with Gabe early in his marriage to Lily that she had stored and frozen embryos “just in case.” Given the situation that later arose with Angel and the virus, Gideon had admired Lily’s foresight. But after his dream, he wondered if his feelings of relief were premature.

  * * *

  In the morning, his feeling of uneasiness continued to grow as the coolness of the night gave way to Afghanistan’s scorching heat. After showering and shaving with a bottle of water, Gideon slapped on strong deodorant. He reached for his military khakis, noting the new Second Lieutenant insignia. While he had tried to make peace with his demotion, he was glad to be back at his old rank. Last, he reached for his dark shades and went outside to begin his day.

  “Lieutenant!” Sergeant Andre Wong said by way of greeting as he approached.

  Gideon nodded back, and without further communication, the two men walked in step to Area 10 where they would take roll call before escorting a group of medical personnel to deliver vaccinations.

  As they walked, two privates ran past them in a rush, trying to avoid being late to roll call.

  “Should we still make them do three extra miles?” Sergeant Wong asked.

  “Sounds reasonable,” Gideon said with a smile. “Gym tent or outdoors?”

  “Gym tent,” Sergeant Wong replied in disgust. “Military rule one million and one: no running in dangerous heat.”

  “I don’t recall getting to run in an air-conditioned tent,” Gideon said.

  “We didn’t,” Sergeant Wong said. “All these recruits are soft.”

  “Lieutenant,” a voice called out. Turning, Gideon saw his captain wave him over to his tent. He remembered his dream.

  “Take over,” Gideon ordered Wong and walked over to the captain’s tent. It was large enough to fit a large table for command staff meetings.

  Upon entering the tent, Gideon saluted the captain and stood at attention.

  “At ease, Lieutenant,” the captain said as he remained seated and looked at his electronic notepad. Whatever he read made him rub the back of his neck.

  “I don’t have good news,” the captain said.

  Gideon felt his mouth go dry, and he braced himself for the captain’s next words.

  “Your cover is blown,” the captain said.

  “What?” Gideon asked as his brain scrambled to catch up with the conversation. He was expecting news about family, not him. “Everyone here knows I am Prince Gideon,” he said.

  “Yes, but everyone here has kept their mouths shut,” the captain said as he got up and started to pace. “It’s the goddamn media. They had agreed to keep quiet about the fact that you were actively serving,” the captain said in an annoyed tone. “But now some Frenchie tabloid has published an exclusive on your . . .” The captain paused in his pacing and used his fingers to indicate quotations. “. . . ‘peacekeeping’ missions, with pictures.”

  Gideon swore before exclaiming, “Does this put everyone on the base in danger?”

  The captain nodded, his full lips pressed together.

  “I need to go back,” Gideon said, squaring his shoulders.

  The captain sat on the edge of his desk and said, “Look, you are one of my best soldiers. When Wong got captured by the rebels in Bolivia, your special operations team got him out. You took a bullet, but you completed the mission. I could go down the list, but if I was ever in a tight spot, you’re a guy I would want to have on my team.”

  Gideon nodded, not sure which way the conversation was going.

  “But I follow the king’s order, and his order is that we return you as expeditiously as possible to Seahorse Island.”

  “When do I leave?” Gideon asked, his throat dry.

  “In an hour. Once you land, you still must go through the mandatory decompression period. You haven’t lived as a civilian in two years.”

  “I will return to the island’s base?” Gideon asked.

  “I think so, but something just came in about that.” The captain walked back around his desk and picked up his electronic n
otepad. He made a small grunt before looking up. “You’re going to spend two weeks at the temple instead of the base. A car will meet you when you land.”

  * * *

  The military plane held few passengers, none of whom he knew on more than a nodding acquaintance. Gideon opened his email to begin a message to Sergeant Wong. Leaving so suddenly, he hadn’t had time for proper goodbyes. He had only told Sergeant Wong that something had come up and to take over the vaccination delivery mission.

  Before he began his message to his former sergeant, he saw he had another message from Gabriel. He touched his screen, intending to move Gabriel’s email to the folder with all the other emails from Gabriel that remained unread. This time he hesitated.

  Since his conversation with the captain, he had remained in soldier mode. He had packed up, notified the appropriate personnel, and filled in the required forms before heading to the helicopter that took him to the airport. The sight of Gabriel’s email hit Gideon like a splash of ice-cold water in the desert, and he shivered. He had to become Prince Gideon again.

  With a sigh of resignation, Gideon clicked on Gabriel’s message.

  Gide—I heard from father that you are heading back to the island. You will be home in two weeks? We are keeping it under wraps for security purposes, but I wanted to let you know that I’m looking forward to seeing you again. It has been too long without you, brother. Mother and Lily ask about you weekly, if not more. They are more worried now that the article has come out on your military missions. Father is only telling them that he is working on it. They will be overjoyed to finally see you again, safe and well. Just a heads up, they don’t know the whole situation from two years ago. They and most of the island think you went away due to a drinking problem, so you may want to watch what you drink in public. I know the whole story, and please understand that I don’t hold anything against you. How could you have known her nefarious purposes? I just want my brother back.

  Seeing his hand shake as it hovered over the screen, Gideon quickly turned off the notepad and went into the small airplane washroom. He cried silently, his back against the door. He hadn’t cried in over two years, his grief and pain buried by military discipline. He’d read one message from his brother, and it was as if a balloon popped and all his regret and shame came out in one big whoosh. He had no idea how long he was in the washroom, but he was relieved that he’d finally stopped crying when he heard a knock on the door.

  “I got to get in there,” a voice on the other side said.

  Gideon hurriedly wiped his face and opened the door, to find a major hopping from one foot to the next, trying to hold in his fluids.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said before retaking his seat.

  * * *

  “Cock-a-doodle-do!”

  The captain had said two weeks at the temple. For seven mornings in a row, he had been greeted by the roosters’ crowing, and every one of those mornings he had wondered what slow-roasted rooster meat would taste like. After two years of military service, he was used to early risings, but with his return to the island, his nightmares of Angel and her father had returned. They took turns looking at him, pleading and asking him to save them.

  In the middle of the night, he would awake with a start, only to see nineteen other guest brothers sleeping on floor pallets. Some lay still and quiet, their limbs relaxed in slumber. Others were not so peaceful. They snored, passed noxious gas, and tossed and turned, lost in their own fretful dreams.

  He wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall. Instead, he paced the room until he tired of it. Every night he fell back into an exhausted sleep close to dawn, only to be woken in what seemed like minutes by the roosters’ crowing. This morning, though, he could only come half-awake. He slipped back into a light sleep where nebulous dreams filtered through his mind.

  “Are you ill?” said an old querulous voice.

  Gideon frowned in his sleep but didn’t awake from his dreaming. Then something poked him hard, jerking him awake.

  Gideon sat up, stretching his arms upward and yawning. He gave a little start as he saw Brother Adam looming over him with a stern expression on his face, gnarled hands clasping a strong wooden cane.

  “Did you just hit me with that cane?” Gideon asked, indignant. As he stood up, he realized the room held just himself and Brother Adam. All the other bed mats were rolled up and pushed against the wall.

  “I must have fallen back asleep,” Gideon said, surprised.

  “Ah! That must be it.” Brother Adam slowly walked over to the room’s lone chair, near the door, and sat down carefully. “You should read Proverbs 6, verses 10 and 11: ‘A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man.’”

  “Huh?” Gideon shook his head and kneeled to roll up his bed mat. The guest residence hall was a simple one-story building made with wooden beams. It had one large room for guests, the room stationed between a small kitchen and dining area at one end and a wash and toileting room at the other end. There was an outdoor screened porch that ran the length of the building.

  “You missed morning prayers and the morning meal,” Brother Adam said.

  “Why didn’t anyone wake me?” Gideon asked as he stood. “Are the guards—”

  Brother Adam interrupted. “I thought you were in the military. Why do you need guards?” The brother shook his head. “I pity the future of this island if the military folks think they need guards.”

  “I was shot three times . . . Oh, never mind,” Gideon said, frustrated he’d been put on the defensive.

  “You are missing the real question,” Brother Adam said. At Gideon’s look of confusion, Brother Adam sighed. His tone was gentler when he continued. “Why are you still burdened by whatever brought you to the temple doors two years ago, drunk and incoherent?”

  Gideon looked away, embarrassed at being dissected in such a way.

  “I understand that you are not a believer,” Brother Adam continued.

  “I am a Christian,” Gideon said, surprised that Brother Adam didn’t know this already. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the necklace with the gold cross his father had given him for his fifteenth birthday.

  “But you don’t believe,” Brother Adam responded. Gideon and Brother Adam looked at each other in understanding.

  “May I pray for you?” Brother Adam asked.

  “Now?” Gideon asked, feeling like a trapped deer.

  “No, I will pray while you get cleaned up,” Brother Adam replied.

  Gideon nodded as he stripped off his night robe.

  Brother Adam’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “I didn’t mean you had to get cleaned up in front of me!”

  Ten minutes later, a clean and scrubbed Gideon reappeared, donned in the rough gray robe that denoted one as a temple guest. He noticed that he felt less tired. Perhaps the extra sleep did him good. Brother Adam still sat with his eyes closed. Gideon awkwardly wondered if he was still praying for him.

  “You have to try to get up on time and attend mealtimes,” Brother Adam said, still with his eyes closed.

  “Huh?” Gideon wondered why he always sounded like the village idiot around Brother Adam.

  “Release from the temple is contingent on the guest being able to adhere to the temple’s schedule and engage with others in a positive way,” Brother Adam replied.

  Gideon grimaced. He should’ve gotten up on time. “Got it,” he said.

  “How is your grandmother?” Brother Adam asked, shifting the conversation altogether.

  “My grandmother?” He hadn’t expected that question. “Why? Do you know her?”

  “Not now,” Brother Adam responded before asking another question. “Would you have woken up one of the other brothers if he was asleep after the time for waking?”

  “Of course,” Gideon replied but then thought more carefully. “Well, I would like to think so.”

  “Yes, you would,
wouldn’t you,” Brother Adam replied in the cryptic way that irritated Gideon.

  Once they left the room, Brother Adam nodded to Gideon and the two royal guards posted outside before walking slowly away. Noticing how slowly Brother Adam walked to reach the side door at the end of the screened porch, Gideon wondered why he didn’t just retire. Sighing, Gideon trotted a little until he was walking side by side with Brother Adam.

  “Since I’m not eating breakfast, I can walk with you and then be on my way,” he offered to Brother Adam.

  “Ah, Brother Gideon, I won’t keel over and die before I get to my desk,” Brother Adam replied with one of his wry grins. Gideon noticed, however, that Brother Adam was leaning hard on his cane and breathing heavily.

  Embarrassed, Gideon replied, “I didn’t think that at all, sir. I’m sure you have many happy years ahead of you.” As he heard himself speak, Gideon winced. It was obvious to all that Brother Adam was fighting hard for each day.

  To Gideon’s surprise, Brother Adam started laughing. It was mixed with some guttural coughing and a few wheezes, but it was a laugh nonetheless. He said, “I guess you learned something in the military after all. You lie like an expert.”

  Gideon grinned and said, “I’m glad someone finally noticed.”

  Brother Adam laughed his half cough and half laugh even louder and slapped Gideon on the back. The impact of the slap made Brother Adam lose his balance, and Gideon grabbed his arm to prevent him from falling. One of the royal guards coughed discreetly.

  “I’m fine.” Brother Adam waved his hand as though shooing Gideon away. “You go on ahead. No sense in you walking with me and then having to come right back.”

  “You sure?” Gideon asked.

  Brother Adam just waved him away again in response. Gideon watched him until he exited the guest residence hall before turning a glowering face to the royal guards. They were dressed in the ubiquitous black suit of the guards and were younger than Luke and James.