Why?
She stared out at everything and nothing. I forget, you don’t know about us. She turned around, resting her back against the railing, her eyes meeting mine. The siren talent does not coexist well with other magical abilities. So those with siren talent do not manifest strong magical or psychic talents. They rarely even have another minor ability. She paused for a moment, then went on. There are not many children among our people. If one of them shows a magical ability, particularly a strong one . . .
She’s not going to be able to do the siren thing.
No.
Ren can teleport, I observed.
The other woman nodded. Yes, but only herself and one other.
I stared into the distance, instead of staring at her and making it obvious we were talking. Heaven only knew who could overhear. And her siren abilities?
Weak. Very weak. She can influence, but only temporarily, and the very strong willed may be able to resist her.
Not such a good thing for a princess. Adriana? I asked, because I had to.
Clairvoyant. She does not have a prophet because she is a prophet.
So, neither was going to be considered suitable to rule. Which explained the bitterness. With her talent, Adriana probably could see who would get the throne. Fate can be so cruel.
My daughter can teleport a dozen easily, possibly even two dozen with effort. But she hasn’t even enough siren abilities to talk mind-to-mind.
And the other kids give her shit for it.
Oh yes.
Poor kid. I could relate. I’d caught all kinds of hell, growing up—until the day I beat the crap out of the biggest, baddest kid on the playground. They stopped tormenting me then. The other kids still didn’t like me and it didn’t stop the whispers, but for the most part, everybody left me alone.
Poor Okalani. Teleportation is a very rare talent. She might do well on the mainland when the time comes.
Yes, she might. But she needs to be an adult. Her father has made it very clear that he won’t help. He is most bitter at having been sent away. He has a new wife and a new life. She has adopted our son as her own but has “no interest” in our daughter. I could force him, if he hadn’t taken steps.
Steps?
He wears a charm similar to the ones your client and Mr. Creede wear. She gave me a sour look. I believe his new wife bought it for him. He could not have afforded such a thing on his own.
Ouch. But it was interesting that Creede had one. I hadn’t known that. I’m sorry. I thought about it for a moment. You haven’t told Okalani about her father’s new family, have you?
That he rejected her? No. It seemed unnecessarily cruel.
Maybe she was right. But the kid was going to find out eventually.
Maybe so. She’d read my thoughts. I’d have to be careful of that. But I’d like to spare her that particular pain as long as I can. She uncrossed her arms and straightened. Speaking out loud for the first time, she said, “I must go and try to talk sense to my daughter.”
“Good luck with that.” My tone was dry, but I meant it. She’d need every bit of luck she could scrounge up to get through Okalani’s thick teenage skull.
“Thank you for not killing her and for agreeing to speak with her. Maybe you can get through to her.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She gave me a sad smile, followed by a very low bow, and left.
I watched her walk along the path until she disappeared into the night. It was time to find Creede and Dahlmar. I hoped the guesthouse had Internet access. I wanted to check my e-mail. I was worried about El Jefe’s friend from UCLA and hoped that Em had written about her first day at work. I should also have word from the bank and from Roberto about my mom’s case. Real life, such as it was, was still moving right along, whether or not I was home to participate.
I walked over to the ladder and climbed down to the dock. I didn’t look back at the wreck of the Mona. It’d just make me sad.
Baker came up to greet me almost immediately. “Is there something we can do for you, Highness?”
“Creede left me a note that they were going to the guesthouse?”
“Ah.” Raising fingers to her lips, she gave a ear-piercing whistle. Almost immediately I heard the soft purr of an electric motor. In an instant, a golf cart driven by a uniformed guard pulled up. Two others jogged along beside.
A golf cart? I must’ve looked as surprised as I felt, because Baker was smiling. “No automobiles are allowed on the east half of the island, where the royal compound is. West Island is as modern as you could want. There’s even an international airport. East Island has the compound, the queen’s private docks, and the nature preserve.”
All right then. “Are they going to—”
“Jog alongside the vehicle all the way to the guesthouse?” She grinned. “Yes. We are.” She winked at me. “Fortunately, it’s only about a mile. It’s been a long day.”
At her gesture, I climbed in. I’d barely gotten my seat belt fastened before we were zipping along a narrow strip of pavement, heading steeply uphill. Baker and her guards kept pace. I jog nearly every day, but I wouldn’t have wanted to run that hill in full gear and honest-to-God army boots. Still, they might be sweating, but they didn’t seem to be struggling. Maybe I needed to up my regimen.
She hadn’t misled me. It wasn’t far and like the clearing where the ceremony had been held, it wasn’t obviously visible until you were very nearly upon it. When we got within a couple hundred yards, motion sensors at the edge of the trail brought fairy lights to life. Perimeter lights came on when the vehicle pulled to a stop in the wider section of pavement used for parking.
I don’t know architecture. I don’t know what style goes by what name, and periods are something women have once a month. But I dated an architect for a few months a while back. He was a nice guy but boring. His absolute hero, the man he bored me to tears about, was Frank Lloyd Wright. He spent hours poring over everything ever written about Fallingwater.
That’s what this looked like, right down to the waterfall, though the stones were darker. Wow. And this was just the guesthouse. Apparently Queen Lopaka knew how to live.
I climbed out and started walking. Baker fell in beside me. The other guards moved, dark and silent as my very own shadow, directly behind us.
Another pair of guards appeared at the doorway. Passwords were exchanged, holy water was sprayed by both sides. I approved. Since we’d had a verified imp encounter on the boat Queen Lopaka’s people weren’t taking any chances. Very professional. I like professional.
One of the guards pressed a series of buttons on the keypad next to the front door. A light flashed green, the door opened, and I stepped over a threshold with enough buzzing power to take my breath away.