“No tugs, Number One?” the Captain inquired with a definite inflection to his voice. “You’re well aware that I shall receive a complaint upon our return?”Drake shook his head. “I think not, sir. Even the Port Authority will have to admit that Princess Carla was merely showing her best. She has a fine backside and we owe it to her to show it off, now and again.”

“she shall scant show well that now shows best.”

“It's crazy isn't it?" She shook her head. "You have to believe it, but you hate it. I don't have to believe it, and I think it's beautiful." She shook her head again. "It's crazy.”

“Lyon knew she wasn't aware she was being watched, either. She wouldn't have eaten the leaf otherwise, or reached for another. “Sir, which one is Princess Christina?” Andrew asked Lyon, just as Rhone started in choking on his laughter. Rhone has obviously been watching Christina, too. “Sir?”“The blond-headed one,” Lyon muttered, shaking his head. He watched in growing disbelief as Christina daintily popped another leaf into her mouth. “Which blond-headed one?” Andrew persisted.“The one eating the shrubs.”

“Thanks. For everything. I mean it.’ A slow grin edged onto his face. ‘You’re worth it…Princess.’ Her tennis show hit the door a second after it closed.”

“Rolling flat onto his back, Drake shuddered. Then he inhaled deeply. He stared up at the night sky. "We're going to win," he said, his voice calmer, less strained. "This is nothing. Keep going. They can't stop us. Jason, give Rachel the necklace. Tell her . . . tell her I'm sorry. Tell her . . . I wanted . . . to show her . . . my little valley. Tell her I tried."His voice was growing weak. Farfalee smoothed a hand over his brow. "Shhh," she whispered. "Be still, Drake. You can rest now. You did it. Rest. We'll take it from here.""Failie," he whispered, his hand twitching toward the back of his neck with little jerks. "Where's my seed?" His head tipped sideways. The breath went out of him.”