"The ocean. A thin rippling layer above an endless cavern of undiscovered secrets," he said in a low, soothing voice.

He sat in the bed beside his daughter as he held a thick, worn book in his hand. On the final page, she gawked at the page of artistic beauty. A ship along the waves with fish, coral, and glistening treasure left unfound.

"Riding the currents were generations of explorers who wished to see what laid beyond the foreseen horizons. It was a place of fresh beginnings and unknown futures. The faint of heart need not apply."

His daughter, a precious child of seven years, grabbed the book and turned the pages until she reached near the center. "This one," she cried. "I want this story."

He laughed. "We already finished a story. You know the rule, Maria. Tomorrow night."

"I'm not tired," she whined.

Kissing her, he took the book and closed it. "Tomorrow night."

"But you won't be here tomorrow night." Maria glanced to him with teary eyes. "Remember?"

"Yes, I remember. But your brother will be. So will your handmaid."

"Dominick and Annie are terrible storytellers. They don't do the right voices. One more, Papa. Just one. Please," she begged. "Tell me about the island of treasure again."

Laughing, he kissed her again. "I said no. I won't be gone for long. Good night, Maria."

"…good night," she mumbled, throwing herself under her covers.

He petted her arm. "A spoiled princess through and through. The trip will be quick, you know this."

She didn't answer.

"Tell you what, when I get back, I'll tell you all the stories you want."

Maria threw the covers off her body. "Promise?" she cried with a wide smile. Her blonde curls entering her mouth, causing her to gag. "Blgh. Gross."

Her father took the curls out. Still laughing, he patted her head. "I promise. But you have to go to sleep. Deal?"

"Ugh, fine. Love you, Papa." Maria kissed him and fell back onto her bed.

He stood up and left the room, smiling at her as he left. Outside the room, his valet waited for him.

"James, the preparations are set. It would be wise for us to leave now."

"Right now?"

"Yes, sir. We cannot delay this any longer, if it is still your wish."

James, gulping and cycling through his options, turned back to Maria's room, looking through the door at his daughter. A light grin teased his lips, but sadness overtook him. James turned back to his valet.

"So…the sailor has not returned?"

"Three years to the day, sir. I venture to assume he will never come back. And if he did, there is no guarantee he has found anything of value."

James shook his head, disappointment overwhelming him. "And Dominick?"

"Told what he needed to be, sir. He was still upset despite the urgency of the circumstance. I am sure he will come to terms with it in time."

"He is still young in many ways," James sighed. "Very well. Let's depart." James's eyes flashed with pain yet again. It was clear what was consuming his thoughts.

His valet took notice. "Sire, they will be fine."

Chuckling, James looked to him. "You might have to drag me out, my friend, before I change my mind."

His valet took him by the shoulder and led him down the corridor. "Come, Highness, we have no time to waste."

*** *** ***

Maria, hearing the muffled voice of her father, waited until he had gone away. She jumped from her bed and grabbed her book. Excited, she went straight to her window. It overlooked the ocean, a gentle beach below her.

To the right was the rest of her home, an ivory palace with the stables in sight and gardens left behind by her mother. To the left, an endless line of ships along the docks. Out of her sight was the nearest town, the port town she loved to go to and visit the people she admired.

The baker who knew her favorite sweet. The librarian who had a new book for her birthday each year. The painter who gave her a new image of the world she had yet to see. And the sailors, oh the sailors, who told her stories of the adventures she would never have. Her room was adorned with the artifacts and emblems of the treasures they had found, no matter how mundane.

Book in hand, Maria reached out and took hold of the trellis. She scaled it downward until her feet hit the malleable sand beneath her. Her toes spread to let the gritty feeling permeate her skin and relax her body. When satisfied, she darted for the beach and did not stop until she felt the splash of the ocean hit her legs and soak the hem of her nightgown.

She sighed into the waves, her breath riding along the current and away into the night. Her irises reflected the color of the stars as she stared upward into their beauty.

Maria held the book tighter in her arms as she dropped to the ground. She crossed her legs, placing the book in her lap, and opening it to the story of the island of treasure. Gold, silver, rubies, emeralds, diamonds, everything her mind could conjure up. And as she gawked at the page, she did not hear the sluggish steps creep up behind her.

"Maria," a voice snapped.

She shot her gaze over her shoulder and saw a blonde boy with glaring eyes of green. A carbon copy of their mother, no older than eleven. Maria smiled, her teeth shining like pearls.

"Dominick," she cried. "Did you come to join me?"

"I saw you sneaking out again."

"Not really sneaking out if I know you're watching. Now, did you come to join me?"

"You should be in bed."

"But, and this is a big but…did you come to join me?" Maria lifted a brow. "Huh?"

Dominick huffed and threw himself beside her. "Alright, what are you reading?"

"The island of treasure," she exclaimed.

"Again?"

"Well, I don't see you picking a better story."

"Uh-huh." Dominick's eyes moved to the ocean. His expression sank and he sighed.

When Maria saw this, she nudged him. "Dominick, are you okay?"

"I should be going with him," Dominick grumbled. "I should be learning what it means to run a kingdom. Helping with the recession we are facing. But no, I have to stay behind, like a child."

"Papa isn't that mean."

"So you keep reminding me." He sighed. "And somehow I still don't feel better."

"You know what would make you feel better?" Maria slammed the book into his lap. "Literary distraction."

"You know I hate this book. It's hardly legible anymore," he whined. "What is your obsession with the ocean anyway?"

"It's more fun than staying here and doing nothing. Treasure, monsters, pirates---."

"Death, loss, and uncharted territory. Sounds like a barrel of laughs."

"You're no fun, Dominick."

"I am plenty fun," he objected, his voice rising in pitch.

Maria giggled. "Then, read it," she teased. "And use the voices, like Papa."

"Maria---."

"The voices, Dominick. If Papa is going to be gone, you need to step up. As princess, I order you to entertain me."

Dominick glared at her, but the anger subsided as her smile melted his desire to intimidate her. Laughing, he ruffled her hair and scooted himself closer to her side. He placed the book between them and attempted, to his best abilities, the gruff voice of a hungover pirate narrator.

"The man, if one could call him that, was known as Captain Sebastian Flint. As ruthless as he was avaricious, Flint sailed the seas in search of all that glittered, no matter how dull. Though his liking of rubies consumed his fondness, gold sufficed, as did the glitter of the diamond."

"Papa reads it better," Maria stated with a flat tone.

They both burst into laughter, leaning on one another as they allowed their literary distraction to take over their minds. For but a moment, they forgot why they were sad or uneasy. And a moment was the best way to describe it.