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

by Lisa Lee

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked.

  The two guards looked at him in surprise before one spoke. “We are deeply sorry, Prince Gideon. On our first day guarding you, I thought you said, ‘Do not come into the sleeping quarters unless I am about to die.’ Clearly, I misunderstood.”

  “Then,” the other guard said, “the temple brother who just left told us you needed to sleep and to let you rest. We’ve let Luke and James know you would be slightly delayed. Again, our apologies if we misunderstood the instructions.”

  “How did you know my life was not in danger?” Gideon asked with his arms folded across his chest, feeling the need to exert some sort of control. “You just believed Brother Adam?”

  “The camera, Prince Gideon.”

  “There is a camera?” Gideon asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

  The two guards looked at each other, recognizing that, despite his quiet tone, the prince was not pleased.

  “I’m waiting,” Gideon said sharply, making no attempt to mask his displeasure.

  “Sir!” It was Luke and James. At their approach, the night guards bowed quickly and left.

  “Is there a camera in the sleeping quarters?”

  “Yes,” said James, “on your father’s orders. The head brother was not happy, but he couldn’t say no to the king.”

  Gideon felt an unexpected tightness in his throat. His father may not have spoken to him in two years, but the king was responsible for the guards and the camera. Luke and James had taken up their duties as if he hadn’t been gone for two years. Apparently, his brother had kept them on his security detail.

  “Let’s go,” he said to them and strode off to the nearby trolley stand. For the past week, they had spent part of their mornings walking around the temple’s campus. The buildings were all nondescript and no more than three stories high.

  The main services on Sunday were held in a large boxy white square building with a simple cross above its front double doors. It was attended mostly by foreigners on the island, temple brothers, and temple guests. It was also video-conferenced to the island’s single prison. Non-incarcerated citizens who attended Christian churches tended to do so in their own sectors.

  A slightly less large building sat behind the church and held the offices of the head brother and the other brothers that ran the administrative functions of the temple. To the east of the administrative office sat the temple’s guest residence hall. Guests in need of spiritual renewal could stay at the hall for up to forty days at no charge, provided they worked on assigned tasks. Of course, donations were always welcomed. The orphanage for boys sat directly behind the hall. To the west of the administrative office sat the temple’s residence hall for the temple’s brothers.

  Still, with all its buildings, the temple’s campus was not large enough to warrant a trolley system. The trolley was needed because the temple shared an extensive farm operation with three other religious groups. To the north of the farm operation was the Catholic Church’s center on the island, to the east was the Islamic campus, to the west was the Buddhist campus, and finally to the south was the temple’s campus. The temple was non-denominational Protestant but everyone just called it the Christian Church. The farm had been established early on by Steve Li, the island’s first king.

  As the former king strengthened his hold on the island, religious groups from around the world sought permission to come and do missionary work. The islanders themselves represented a myriad of different faiths. The first King Li was indifferent to religion but not its potential to sow dissent and shift power. As the old South African leader Desmond Tutu noted: “When the missionaries came to Africa, they had the Bible, and we had the land. They said ‘Let us pray.’ We closed our eyes. When we opened them, we had the Bible, and they had the land.”

  The first King Li was determined to keep his eyes open and the land under his control. His solution was to allow the sectors to have just about any religion they wanted, provided the religious leaders were native to the island and ten percent of their revenue was supplied to the royal family on an annual basis.

  Churches with foreign leaders were allowed if they were limited to the area around the farm and agreed to provide twenty percent of their direct farm yield to the royal family. At the time, the island didn’t have their current ability to simply import food. The only churches who took them up on their offer were the four with campuses around the farm, even though, for reasons never fully explained to Gideon, the Catholic Church’s Sisters of Mercy operated its orphanage for girls on the north side of the island, far away from the farm.

  As the trolley moved languidly along its path, Gideon couldn’t help but have a small feeling of awe as he took in the gigantic field before him with rows and rows of edible leafy plants, the orchard brimming with small mandarin trees, the nosy squawks of chicken in large coops, the beekeepers in their strange garb, and farm workers who moved with purpose. The fragrant and foul smells together created an aroma that was earthy and not altogether unpleasant. To Gideon, it seemed like he’d been thrown back to another time.

  As a child, he had visited the farm often with Angel and Gabriel. It had been fun to sit in the big tractors when their feet couldn’t reach the floor; to run through the mandarin orchard, yelling at the top of their lungs; to eat orange fruit until their small tummies hurt; and to sometimes just lay down, exhausted from all their play, and look up at the hazy sky. He wondered why they had stopped visiting. Did they simply get older and forget the simple pleasures of the farm?

  He remembered Angel complaining once about how she hated being an only child. Gideon realized that he had never been lonely. He had always had Gabriel, his twin, friend, partner in crime, and other self. In the military, he was surrounded by men he trusted in life-or-death situations.

  Now, though, despite being surrounded by people, Gideon experienced loneliness. He had one week to go before he could see Gabriel, Ya Ya, Lily, his father, his mother, and, hopefully, soon his nieces. He resolved not to screw up this time. He sat up straighter with his arms folded, looking past James and out the trolley window.

  “Luke and James,” he said quietly, for they were sitting on either side of him.

  “Yes?” James responded.

  “Let’s do our best today,” Gideon said.

  “What are we doing today?” James asked. “I thought your assignment was to help prep for lunch.”

  “That is my assignment,” Gideon said, hoping his face wasn’t turning red. “I just meant that we should do well in all that we do.”

  “Ok,” James said. Gideon pretended not to notice the look James and Luke exchanged.

  To cover his embarrassment, he said, “Hey, I think there’s a gift shop up ahead. I need to pick up gifts for my return to the palace.”

  “Ok,” Luke replied. “Make sure you do a good job shopping.”

  “Stop it,” James said.

  “Sorry, sir,” Luke said.

  Gideon shook his head at Luke. “I see you haven’t learned anything in two years.”

  Before Luke could respond, a voice yelled out, “Come back here!”

  A chicken had fled its coop near the Islamic house and was running headlong toward a field of greens. Gideon had learned in his time at the temple that chickens were never to be let out of the coops. They would destroy an entire field of vegetables if left unchecked. The chicken squawked indignantly as the worker captured him and put him back in the large coop.

  As he shook his head at the chicken’s antics, Gideon noticed a long line of folks behind the mosque. They were all super thin and dejected-looking. They looked like the drug addicts he had encountered in England but without the jitters. He’d noticed a similar line at the temple recently.

  “Hey,” he said to James. “Why do the campuses sometimes have long lines of people? Do they come for prayer? Are they recovering addicts?” Gideon had whispered the word “addicts.” On the island, illegal drug use was a capital offense. He wondered why
those in line were shown mercy and not killed. Maybe they were too young. Some didn’t look old enough to be adult age.

  A burly man dressed in the blue robe of a temple brother turned from his seat directly in front of Gideon with a look that barely hid contempt. “Those lines are for hungry people who don’t have enough to eat.”

  “What?” Gideon’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t each sector supposed to take care of its own?”

  “Each sector does claim its own, but what that means varies by sector,” the man replied.

  “Look,” Luke said, “the sector heads have to make sure enough food is available for purchase for a lot of people. People who don’t have the resources to buy food and don’t have relatives, like orphans and the elderly without children, are not at the top of anybody’s priority list. Being assigned to a sector just means you have the right to live in a sector.”

  “It doesn’t mean they have the means to live?” Gideon asked.

  “Exactly,” Luke said.

  “But what about the orphans?” Gideon inquired. “Can’t they come to the temple’s orphanage or the one for girls further north?”

  Luke looked at him in disbelief. “Orphans at orphanages have to be sponsored by somebody financially, whether it’s their sector or a relative who dies but leaves money for their care.”

  “And if the sector doesn’t want to financially sponsor an orphan?” Gideon asked.

  “They scramble for food like the kids you see in that line,” the burly brother replied again with a barely civil tone.

  “Why are you speaking to me like I’m the one who deserted them?” Gideon demanded.

  “Forgive me, brother,” the man replied, “but each of the farm’s religions has tried to get the attention of The Red Palace on this matter, but to no avail. My bitterness is misplaced.” But by his tone, Gideon knew that the bitterness would continue.

  “We’re at our stop,” James said.

  As Gideon wandered through the gift shop, his brain was only half-focused on picking out gifts. With the other half of his brain, Gideon wondered about the bitterness of the burly man on the trolley.

  “I should have gotten his name,” he muttered to himself.

  “What?” Luke asked, his eyes focused on keeping track of other customers.

  “Nothing,” Gideon replied before contradicting himself. “What happens to those kids in the food line?”

  Luke continued to look away. “What usually happens to kids with no protectors?” he replied. “It’s an embarrassment, really. They say we sell medicines out the front door and children out the back.”‘

  “We’ve changed since those days,” Gideon replied automatically.

  “Who’s in charge of the sectors?” Luke asked.

  “The descendants of those who arrived on the island with King Li,” Gideon replied, his eyes widening in dismay as he realized the implications of his statement. “But that doesn’t mean the sons are like their fathers or grandfathers. I mean, look at me.”

  “Exactly,” Luke said. “Look at you.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, still stewing over his earlier conversation with the unknown temple brother and Luke, Gideon started his least favorite chore: cleaning the washrooms. The duty was assigned to him and two other guest brothers. Initially, they had decided one person should do the shower area, one person should do the sinks, and one person should do the toilet area. There was an awkward moment where each wondered who would volunteer to clean the toilets. Gideon surprised himself and volunteered. He thought he was prepared, but each day the smell staggered him anew. Today the smell made him lightheaded. He had missed breakfast and grabbed only a few bites at lunch as he was busy with setting up, serving, and cleaning up from lunch. He was only supposed to help prep for lunch, but the regular brothers in charge of the kitchen were at a food conference.

  By the time he sat down at the evening meal, Gideon nearly sighed with pleasure. Two of the guest brothers were chefs in their real lives and had a talent for making simple but elegant meals in the small industrial kitchen they’d been allotted. A cooking range, sink, and a below-countertop refrigerator lined one brick-faced wall, and the men sat at a long wooden table placed close to the opposite wall. Tonight’s meal was roasted chicken in a mandarin glaze, asparagus in a cream sauce, small red potatoes seasoned with sage and parsley, and large fluffy rolls with visible steam rising. Gideon prayed that whoever’s turn it was to say grace would keep it short. Then he remembered it was his turn.

  “Dear God, thank you for this meal,” he prayed and then opened his eyes. He took his fork to dig in and then noticed the other men still had their eyes closed.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Please eat.”

  The conversation was muted as the men satiated themselves on their evening meal. Eventually, though, they began to talk about their day.

  “Did you see that long line again?” a guest brother asked. He was one of the two who shared Gideon’s task of cleaning the washrooms.

  “It’s unseemly, the way those young people beg!” This statement came from another guest brother, Segenam. Gideon knew the man’s father had gotten him out of several financial missteps.

  Gideon covertly scanned the other men’s faces. They had that scrupulous blank look island men cultivated when they didn’t want their true feelings known. It occurred to Gideon that perhaps no one dared speak out on behalf of those young people barely surviving because they weren’t sure how he would respond.

  “Hunger tends to take away one’s ability to be prideful,” Gideon said evenly.

  An angry look crossed Segenam’s face. “Since when is being hungry an excuse to sin?” he asked, his eyes boring into Gideon’s.

  Before Gideon could respond, one of the chefs said, “That’s not what he said, and you know it. Just eat your cake.”

  The guest to Gideon’s right sighed and said, “Yes, let’s have a peaceful meal.”

  Segenam threw down his napkin and stalked off. Dessert was mandarin-orange cake with a honey-based glaze. It was hard for Gideon to enjoy the cake in the charged silence pervading the dining area. Thinking of the dejected young people standing in line for food and the challenge in Segenam’s eyes, Gideon stopped eating his cake after a bite or two. Instead, he sipped his tepid ginger water and reflected on his day.

  The next morning, on a walk with Luke and James, Gideon looked around to make sure no temple brothers were around before asking Luke for his phone.

  “Why?” Luke asked without turning. “You aren’t supposed to have electronics.”

  “Just give me the phone!” Gideon shout-whispered in exasperation.

  “No,” Luke said.

  “Fine,” Gideon said. “You text Gabriel for me.”

  “Why didn’t you just say you wanted to text Gabriel?” Luke asked as he took the phone from his pocket and held it out to Gideon.

  Shaking his head at Luke’s obstinacy, Gideon texted, “Gabe—This is Gideon. Seeing a lot of hungry young people standing in line for food at the farm. Perhaps we can donate some of our share to feed those without other options? Can you look into it?”

  As Gideon was handing the phone back to Luke, a new text came through. Thinking it was Gabriel, he looked, but the message said, “The baby is coming. Can you please meet me at the hospital?” The text came from “My Wife.”

  “I think your wife is having a baby,” Gideon said. “Wasn’t she pregnant the last time I was here?”

  “Yes, she was,” James replied instead of Luke. “She is on her third baby.”

  “Wow,” Gideon replied. “Most women just have one.”

  Luke’s face reddened. “Let me call in a replacement guard.”

  As the morning wore on, Gideon discovered Segenam had nothing on Luke. Luke was keeping watch, but the rigid way he held his body spoke of his immense frustration for having to wait for the new guard. Gideon was frustrated as well, knowing he was the cause of Luke’s current situation. Not the making-the-ba
by part, but the part where Luke couldn’t be at the hospital with his wife.

  Their savior came shortly before noon. There was a discreet tap at the back door of the kitchen before it opened to reveal a tall, muscular man dressed in the black suit, tailored white shirt, black tie, dark shades, and professionally shined black shoes of the royal guard. He held out his royal guard badge and said, “Matthew Lang, replacing Luke . . .” The guard paused to look as his watch phone.

  “You should’ve had my name memorized!” Luke interrupted. “Let’s go over a few details before I head out.”

  Ten minutes later, Luke gave a quick nod to Gideon. “Sir, I will see you back at the palace in a week.”

  “That’s fine,” Gideon replied. He shook his head as he wondered what Luke’s household would be like with three kids under the age of three. With a start, he remembered that there would soon be twin newborns at the palace. It was hard to imagine his brother as a father. I should have contacted him sooner, Gideon thought to himself, wondering why he made a problem his first communication with his brother in two years.

  Gideon shook off his thoughts and started serving the long line of hungry temple brothers. After the line was gone, Gideon prepared his own lunch. Matthew was standing a little way off, his eyes scanning the dining hall.

  “Where’s James?” Gideon asked the guard.

  “He is checking the perimeter, sir,” the guard replied.

  Deciding to tease the guard, Gideon asked, “Do all the guards have biblical names? I mean, James, Luke, and Matthew. Should I expect Peter or Mark next?”

  “I wouldn’t know, Prince Gideon,” Matthew said. “I can get you a list of all royal guard names?”

  Gideon sighed. “No need.” The next week was going to be long indeed.

  That night, Gideon fell into another exhausted sleep, but instead of dreaming of Angel or her father, he dreamed of the knitting girl. She was walking on a narrow path in a wooded area in the eerie light of dusk, still in her pink dress. A predator stalked her. Gideon could hear the predator’s heavy panting as he ran toward her. He was not stealthy. His feet fell with thunderous power, twigs and branches crunching underneath. She walked on, a bright red scarf around her neck and red headphones in her ears.