Page 58 of A Princess, Stolen
Amused, he laughed and adjusted his bandana. “Coldville in Canada. But I no say more, no matter how much you drink.”
“You’re all from Canada?” I asked anyway. I thought about Mykonos’ words when he stood in the doorway to the mess. They sounded vaguely French, which made me think of French-speaking Canadians. Did all these men have French roots? Was that why they all had dark hair? I looked at Pan thoughtfully and he looked back calmly. “Why do you speak Icelandic?” I asked.
“Mother. Mother from Reykjavík. Father go when I small. Mother only spoke Icelandic. When mother die, aunt took us to Coldville. We were ten. Only spoke French with aunt. Aunt also die, like cousins.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. How terrible that must have been for both of them.
Pan stared at the floor. “First, I thought you like Hampton…but you nothing like Hampton. You different, prinsessa.” He raised his head and there was that strange light in his eyes again that dismayed me. Warmth. Sympathy. He had even pronounced the word “prinsessa” almost gently, at least by his standards. “Brother and I, we simple fishermen, simple men. We happy with forest, sea, and sky above heads. We no kidnap young women. But then…too much happen… We angry.”
“Okay,” I said. Pan’s words almost sounded like an apology.
“We no bad men, we do for good cause.” He looked at me intently for far too long without looking away. It made me nervous, so I twisted the ring on my finger. Maybe Pan was the right one after all.
“How long have you known Nathan and Isaac?”
“Oh…not long. They gone for long time. But I through see people quickly.”
“You see through people quickly?” I corrected cautiously.
He nodded. “I take care of you. Isaac say lot of mean things, do to you. But you good girl, I realize. You sacrifice yourself for Hampton, you give your life. You save boss, you help ship like man…you not mad at me for say mean things to you. You gott hjarta. Like boss. Gott hjarta.”
I had to swallow because he spoke to me so caringly and lovingly even though I was once again deeply afraid of Isaac. “Gott hjarta… What does that mean?”
He patted his chest with his hand. “Good heart. You good heart and pretty smile. Boss also good heart under anger.” Then he took several sips of whiskey and handed me the flask again. I also took a tiny sip because I felt somewhat obligated. He was nice to me, something I hadn’t expected. Somehow, it even seemed underhanded to use him for my own purposes. However, my first goal was to survive. No use waiting for Isaac to do bad things to me.
“When this is over, what will you do?” I wanted to know and turned the ring around repeatedly.
“I no have big dreams, prinsessa. I live in peace with fish, sea, and brother. I no need money.”
That was bad. “But if you had some? What would you do? What do you dream of?”
Pan looked at me so intensely with his black eyes that a queasy feeling spread through me. “I no dream, prinsessa.”
I smiled at him and winked a little. “Everyone dreams of something, Pan. You too.”
I could see even in the fine starlight that fell on the main deck like sand that he blushed a little. “Maybe someday I find pretty woman with good heart. With pretty smile like you. And children. Many children.” He stared at his fingers, which were covered in calluses and scars. “If I have money, I build house for big family.”
Such a simple, modest wish with such a strong longing behind it. I had never seriously thought about people who had nothing but their hands to work with and maybe a mat made of straw in some hut. I had always lived in my own little world, in a world where everything bad was kept away from me, and there was only Dad, my paints, and colorful flowers.
“Hey, you!” A voice ripped me out of my thoughts. It was Icarus, who sat down next to me and Pan with his box. “Tell me…what’s it like to be the richest girl in America? Ilias swears you have a butler who wipes your ass.”
“You quiet, Icarus!” Pan hissed, glaring at Ilias. He grinned back and stared at me as he put a new cigarette in his mouth.
“I have to disappoint you, but I don’t have a butler for things like that.” This time their mockery wouldn’t get me down.
“So, how many butlers do you have?” Icarus leaned forward with voyeuristic curiosity and rubbed his hands.
“We have housekeepers, cooks, doormen, lift boys, chauffeurs…that sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing!” Icarus laughed, now sounding amused, not malicious.
Two other men sat down next to Icarus on their boxes.
“Is it true that you eat beluga for breakfast for five thousand dollars, every morning?” Castor asked from the background.
I was relieved by the seriousness in his voice. “A tabloid newspaper made that up. Dad…” I wanted to saysued them, butI let it go. There was a short, awkward silence and then Icarus asked:
“So what do you eat for breakfast, if I may ask?”
