The Princess and the Pirate, ch 10: The Pirate's Paradise

In the morning, Fioretta awoke to the sounds of birds calling. They sounded exotic and beautiful. She arose from the large feather bed and looked around the enormous room in which she found herself. As she absorbed her surroundings, she tried to figure out how she had gotten from the tiny cabin on the ship to this very large room. Perhaps the wine had been drugged? She did have a fuzzy, aching head this morning. That had to be the explanation. For some reason, this knowledge did not bother her as badly as she felt it should.

Fioretta could read nothing about the man who owned this room by looking around. The luxurious bed had simple cotton sheets. No pictures of any kind adorned the walls. The wardrobe in the corner had been emptied, except for her bag. Only a candle, some matches, some writing paper and ink, and an exquisite hairbrush and mirror set lay on the Spartan desk.

Fioretta walked to the shuttered window and found it locked tight. She could not even look outside her comfortable prison. She freshened herself up in the luxurious bathroom that adjoined the bedroom, tidied the bed, and sat down to think. She wondered what had happened to Mirabelle and Laura. She hoped they were both fine. She wondered if someone was going to feed her. She felt helpless, alone.

Tired of the tedium, Fioretta opened a tiny drawer she had not noticed before in the tiny table beside the bed. Inside, lay a thick, green book. She picked up the book and read it's title: The Ever Mysterious Morel Islands. As she opened the book—more out of bored curiosity than anything else—a miniature portrait fell out of its pages. Fioretta bent down and picked it up. She stared at it for a very, very long moment.

Then she had to sit down. How had her captor gotten this particular portrait—this missing portrait? She had know it at first glance: this portrait of her very own mother had been missing since the night of the kidnapping of her long lost brother. How had it gotten here? Was it a coincidence? Was it booty stolen from the kidnappers as they were traveling? Or might her captor hold some very important pieces of the enigma that had forced Fioretta's parents to shroud her in mystery for her entire childhood?

Suddenly, she stood up. A memory haunted her and taunted her. She picked up the mirror from the desk. Then she took the pins out of her hair and let the locks cascade down her shoulders and back. Picking up the exquisite brush, she let its bristles dance through her hair. The memory of where she had seen the pattern began to solidify in her mind as the soothing strokes relaxed her entire body. She closed her eyes as she brushed. The image of a tapestry hanging in a room in her castle came to mind.

The room was more of a shrine than anything else and had been for longer than she had been alive. Inside, a lonely bassinet stood in the center of the room with handmade baby blankets adorning it. A chest of drawers held a baby boy’s layette. She had seen the room once a year her entire life on the anniversary of her older brother’s birth.

Hanging on the wall, a beautiful tapestry with a peaceful country scene brought serenity to the nursery. Fioretta had always been fascinated by the tapestry, but now, she connected the pattern that bordered the scene with the pattern on the brush and mirror set. She continued to think of the room. Yes. The furniture also held the pattern.

The room, of course, was supposed to be used for her older brother, before all of those aspirations were dashed. This brush and mirror had to have been made by the same person who had formed the pattern on the pieces in that room. Fioretta opened her eyes wide. This brush and mirror could have been her own mother’s at the time of her brother’s kidnapping or maybe just before. Had it been stolen, perhaps to pay for a fare when her brother had been kidnapped? Had the Captain’s father taken the brush and mirror set to give to his wife in exchange for a ride on his ship for a woman and "her" newborn baby? She had to learn more! Fioretta opened her eyes as the reverie vanished with a resounding knock at the door.

She hurriedly put her hair back up and welcomed the awaiting "guest."

Captain Matthew himself strode through the door bearing a breakfast tray fit for royalty. It held eggs, strawberries, fresh bread, coffee, and other delights to fill the tummy. Princess Fioretta gratefully took the tray, prayed, and began to eat her meal.

As she ate, the pair spent a few moments on polite conversation. Then she asked him about her maids.

"Never fear, princess," said Captain Matthew jovially. "They are both in the next room safe and sound. I take my duty to protect young women very seriously. I am the only one who is allowed contact with female prisoners."

Fioretta felt somewhat relieved. He seemed to be a man of his word, at least when it came to taking good care of his female prisoners.

Fioretta smiled as she finished swallowing a strawberry. "The birds provide a wonderful wake up chorus."

"Yes they do. Actually, we have something of a little zoo here on Pirate's Paradise Island. We've been quite far on our voyages and have brought back many wonders. Part of it is just outside your window, but I am taking no chances with your safety. I will take you to see the zoo later, but I won't let you open your window." His blue eyes sparkled and danced as he watched Fioretta.

"That sounds lovely," Fioretta countered, "but what about right now? I'm just about finished with all this delicious food."

"I'm sorry," he answered light heartedly, "but I have a lot of business to which I must attend. Perhaps we can take a stroll this evening."

Fioretta let it go for the moment. She decided to wait to ask him about the pattern on the brush. It was such an important find that she would kick herself if she tripped up and spoiled her chance to learn about a clue to a mystery she had learned about from the time she could just barely sit on her father's knee. She watched Captain Matthew leave, wondering what kind of business a pirate captain had on such an island.