The Secret King

by C. J. Miller

  Rolland wasn’t the type to patronize music and he did not exclusively work for DeSante. Which meant he was here on a job. Who was his target?

  Casimir followed him in the crowd, while calling DeSante on the phone. But the president of Icarus wasn’t answering. Casimir lost track of Rolland as people socialized and milled around.

  He tried texting DeSante instead. Why is Rolland in Rizari?

  The response came moments later. He’s providing backup.

  For? Who’s his target?

  Backup for you. You’ve lost focus and I need to get this done. No war. Target is Sam.

  Casimir didn’t need backup. Rolland would shoot first, ask questions later. He wouldn’t care if he killed Serena and while assassinating Samuel held some appeal, a bloody coup made Casimir no better than Samuel. He wanted the throne in an honorable way. I have this.

  Serena is meeting with our enemy to discuss an alliance. You had time. You failed. DeSante didn’t mince words.

  DeSante wouldn’t stop Rolland. He had decided that Casimir wasn’t moving fast enough. Rolland was exceptional at what he did. Accurate to a fault, he could slip away from any place unnoticed. He was untraceable and had so many contacts around the world, he could hide for months to let the fallout die down before reappearing somewhere else.

  I am in control, Casimir texted, hating that he was being argumentative. His actions should speak for themselves.

  Rolland stays on post.

  DeSante was holding the line. Casimir knew his old friend too well. When DeSante set his mind to something, he rarely wavered. He had decided to kill Samuel and had sent in his best to do the job. If Casimir wanted Samuel alive so he could get the answers he needed, he would have to find Rolland and stop him.

  When the members of the symphony began to tune their instruments, the lights in the hall blinked a few times. The crowd moved toward their seats. When the aisles were clear, the lights lowered and then the hall went dark. Casimir scanned for a red dot anywhere near Serena that would point to Rolland planning to take his shot at Samuel. He could have night vision goggles to assist him, but even a good marksman needed tools to hit his target in the dark.

  The sounds of the orchestra rose up through the hall. Casimir moved from his position. He didn’t want to be pinned down by trampling people if shooting started.

  When the lights came on, Samuel Warrington was standing on the conductor’s podium. Serena was in her seat. She appeared confused.

  Noticing the king, the crowd erupted in applause. Samuel held out his hands to quiet them. “Welcome to you all, my dear friends, and please allow me to borrow the stage for one minute before the performance begins. This day holds a lot of meaning for me. As you know, this concert is a long-standing tradition held in the hall built for my father. He honored my mother with private performances here and I have continued that tradition in his absence. I have selected the score and heard some of the rehearsal. But before we enjoy the music, I have an important question for someone special.”

  Casimir felt panic for another reason, a reason besides an assassin roaming the crowd. The king was planning to propose to Serena. Though Casimir knew this was inevitable, he hated what was coming, hated that he would have to watch it. Most of all, Casimir hated the idea that Serena would belong to the king and the king to her.

  Adding to his anxiety, given that the king had made himself an easy target, Rolland would take his shots.

  “Serena Alagona, queen of Acacia, you have become the light in my world. If I have learned anything from the past several months, it’s that life is too short. But it can also be sweet with the right woman at my side. Together we can do great things. We can vanquish a common enemy. Will you be my bride?”

  He had shoehorned in the problem with Icarus by reminding Serena and the crowd of their enemy, and forced the issue of the engagement.

  Serena stood and appeared shell-shocked. She turned, presumably to exit the balcony to meet the king onstage. She would hate being proposed to in this public manner. Casimir hated it for a different reason. She would be close to Samuel, the target, while Rolland was somewhere in the building, probably gleeful about the spectacle he was about to make. Rolland liked his work to be appreciated and his efforts couldn’t be fully valued when his directives included killing someone inconspicuously and hiding the body. The assassination of the King of Rizari would be in the open, in front of a live audience. It would be front page news for weeks.

  Casimir rushed to intercept Serena. She was descending the stairs with the king’s guards flanking her. “Serena!”

  She whirled in Casimir’s direction. “What’s wrong?”

  “No time to explain. There’s an assassin here. You need to stay away from the king.”

  “Are you threatening the queen?” one of the guards asked. Casimir didn’t recognize or know him. The man might think he was some nut stalking the queen.

  “She is in danger. Not from me. Someone wants to kill the king.”

  “Every person here passed through security. The king and the queen are safe,” the guard said haughtily.

  Serena held out her hand to the guards. She addressed Casimir. “I need to talk to Samuel. He’s waiting for my answer. Did you hear what he asked?”

  He’d heard and though it wasn’t the most pressing issue, he wanted to know her thoughts. “What will you say?”

  Everything inside him needed her to say no. Despite what that could mean for their plans, no was the only acceptable answer. Her eyes were wells of sadness. “I will say yes. Our countries are on the verge of war. I can’t rock the boat. I have to go, Casimir.”

  She wasn’t thinking clearly because she was nervous and tense.

  Three other guards swarmed closer and took him by the arms, dragging him away. Casimir had to find Rolland. The hall presented too many angles and too many places to hide. Struggling against their hold, he broke free of the king’s guards and chased after Serena. The guards pursued, but they wouldn’t shoot into the crowd, especially when the king was in range of flying bullets.

  Serena wasn’t wearing a vest. Casimir should have refused to allow her to pass him. He should have fought harder, but her answer had disarmed him for a moment too long. The king’s guards, who were likely wearing vests, could take a bullet for her, but Casimir questioned their loyalty. The king’s safety would be their chief concern.

  Serena met the king on the stage. She was shaking and pale, but the nodding of her head was unmistakable. She was saying yes to his proposal. She would marry Warrington.

  Casimir raced to the stage to warn them. The king’s guards tried to stop him, but he was bigger, stronger and more determined. He stood in front of Serena and when the unmistakable sound of gunfire filled the hall, Casimir felt the impact when a slug landed in his chest.

  Screaming. More gunfire. Casimir felt dizzy and had trouble pulling air into his lungs. He fought to take a deep breath. Serena was kneeling over him, cradling his head in her lap. He was in Rolland’s eyeshot. She needed to go somewhere safe.

  The king’s guards were dragging the king to safety. The corners of his vision blurred and darkened. He tried to explain, tried to warn Serena to move to another location, to run to a safer place.

  He couldn’t make his mouth form the words. They came out as a gurgle.

  Hers was the last face he saw before he lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Casimir felt as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer in the chest. Twice.

  Serena was slapping his cheeks. “Casimir!”

  Her hands moved down his body, poking and prodding. He moaned when she pressed his chest. He had taken a bullet in the vest. Rolland didn’t fire tiny guns. He would have shot with serious power.

  Serena was stroking his face. He preferred that to her prodding his body. “An ambulance is on the way. Just hold on.”

  Casimir opened one eye. They were behind the performance stage, as evidenced by a panel of lighting equipment on the wall an
d heavy blue curtains to his left. Serena was leaning over him, and he focused on her, her beautiful features filling his view.

  “I’m fine. Vest.” His bulletproof vest had taken most of the damage, but the impact would leave a deep bruise and maybe a few broken or cracked ribs.

  Serena let out a cry of relief and threw herself on top of him. He winced and she pulled back. “What were you trying to do?”

  “Catch a bullet for you,” he said, feeling out of breath.

  Casimir closed his eyes, trying to think only of her face and not the throbbing in his chest.

  When he woke, he knew immediately he was in her bed in her beach house in Acacia. The softness of her sheets and the scent of her surrounded him.

  Serena was next to him on the bed, watching him. “How are you?”

  Medical equipment was at the bedside, a blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his arm and a pad was taped to his chest.

  “I feel like I’ve been shot,” he said.

  She touched his forehead. “You were shot. Twice. I have a nurse checking on you, but I thought you would be more comfortable recuperating here.”

  “I like it here. The smell and the sound of the waves. Where’s Samuel?”

  “I don’t know. Not here. When the doctors confirmed you were stable, we took my plane back to here. I had X-rays taken of your chest. You’ve been in and out of consciousness. You hit your head when you fell.”

  He didn’t remember much of anything. “Did I say anything stupid?”

  She kissed his cheek. “No more than usual.”

  He smirked at her joke. “Can I see your hand?”

  She held out her left hand. It was bare.

  “No ring?” he asked. Had he misunderstood? Perhaps she and Samuel were not engaged. Had she refused him? Or had Rolland interrupted her answer?

  She gestured to the white dresser across from the bed, against the wall. “It’s there. On the dresser.”

  His chest ached all over again. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”

  “Are you trying to put yourself in more pain?” Serena asked.

  He was fine. He’d had the wind knocked out of him by a couple powerful bullets. He wasn’t down for the count. “You said yes.” To King Warrington. To the man who had killed his father and destroyed his mother’s life and who was seated on the throne that belonged to him.

  “I had no choice. If I had said no to the king, it would have made the tensions between Acacia, Rizari and Icarus worse. I have to think of more than myself in these matters. If I get closer to Samuel, I can convince him that war is not the right response to the incident with Icarus.”

  Casimir would have preferred not knowing she belonged, at least in words, to King Warrington. “Run away with me.”

  “What?” she asked. “I had them look at your chest and your head. They said everything would be okay, but you sound crazy.”

  He felt crazy—and desperate. He had lost focus on his plan and his goals had changed. But the moment when he’d known Rolland was taking a shot at King Warrington, possibly gunning for Serena, too, nothing had been more important than her. “Run away with me. Let’s leave this all behind.”

  “We can’t do that,” she said, but she sounded like she was considering it.

  “You could have been killed today,” he said.

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “Did they find the trigger man?”

  She shook her head and laid her hand gently on his arm. “Everyone is looking for him. He won’t get far. Someone snapped a picture of him.”

  “He’s an assassin named Rolland. I know him.”

  Serena’s brow creased. “What do you know about him?”

  “That he’s a sick, sadistic killer. He won’t stop coming after King Warrington and I suspect he may come after me now,” Casimir said.

  “Why you?”

  The ache in his chest was second to his worry. “You don’t know Rolland. He’s resourceful and slippery. I screwed up his assassination. He’ll take that hard.” Casimir didn’t want to tell her that DeSante had sent Rolland. Keeping the peace between Acacia and Icarus was critical.

  “You saved my life. Again. You have a funny habit of doing that. But my guards are here. They will keep us safe. It’s my turn to protect you.”

  “I told you I would look out for you,” Casimir said. She looked suspicious, as if she had more questions. If pressed, Casimir would answer them and then all the cards would be on the table. With the truth laid bare, Casimir would be taking a risk. He wanted to tell her. Wanted to give her a chance to be the woman he knew she could be, to see that he was a good man. “This isn’t the life you deserve. Run away with me,” he repeated, hating the begging in his voice.

  Serena stood. “You don’t mean any of this. You were hurt and you need to recover. Rest now. I’ll wake you to eat in a little while.”

  Serena lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. Casimir felt an ache in his chest, her rejection and the bruise of the bullets twisting in an unfamiliar combination of pain.

  * * *

  Casimir was talking crazy. It must be the medications he had been given for his injuries. Serena couldn’t run away. It was her duty to serve as queen. She had taken an oath to serve Acacia. Walking away now was unacceptable.

  She tried to reach Warrington again on his phone. He wasn’t answering. Rizari and Icarus continued to circle each other and it was a matter of time before one took a swipe at the other and catapulted their countries into a full-on war. She had heard Warrington accusing Icarus of sending the assassin. If he confirmed it, war was inevitable.

  Since she was engaged to Samuel, she would be dragging Acacia into Rizari’s war with Icarus. Would he consider that before declaring war on Icarus? Would he consult her?

  She had too much work to do and she needed to stay on top of the military and political situation between Rizari and Icarus, but she couldn’t leave Casimir alone in the beach house. He was resting and injured. Could she bring him to the castle?

  Serena looked around the kitchen. She needed to fix Casimir a meal. Her cooking skills were rough, but she had the ingredients to make soup. As she chopped vegetables, she thought again about what he had said to her.

  Run away with me.

  As if it was that easy. As if she could pack a bag and take off with him. Where would they go? What would they do for money? What about Acacia?

  Yet he had seemed so earnest and so serious. He struck her as a man who thought through plans. Maybe his injury had affected him. Or maybe he had been telling her the truth. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

  An hour later, she had a serviceable vegetable stew. She carried two bowls, two spoons and two cups of juice upstairs on a tray.

  She watched Casimir sleep for a few moments and briefly considered letting him sleep as long as he needed to. He sensed her in the room—his protective instinct wasn’t completely quiet—and he rolled over. He’d removed the blood-pressure cuff and pulse oximeter. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and the location where the bullet had struck his vest was red and turning blue in places.

  “I brought some soup,” she said.

  “Smells great.”

  He shifted and she caught his wince. She set the tray on her dresser and stacked the pillows behind him to make him more comfortable. She heard a creak on the stairs. Casimir said nothing, but tensed.

  She brought the tray to Casimir. “Relax. My guards are watching the house. It’s just the house settling.”

  A man with brown hair and weasel eyes appeared in the room brandishing a gun. “Your guards aren’t watching anything. Your guards are dead, darling.”

  Serena turned and knocked the tray of soup off the bed. It splashed to the ground, burning her legs. “Get out of here!”

  Casimir rolled to his feet. Gone was any sign he was in pain. “Rolland, you don’t need to do this.”

  Rolland, the man who had tried to kill Samuel Warrington earlier that night had found her home. Were her guards
dead or was he bluffing? If they were alive, where were they?

  Rolland inclined his head. “DeSante didn’t tell me you were sleeping with the queen. I thought she was engaged to the king of Rizari.”

  DeSante had hired Rolland. Serena touched her bare ring finger and put as much distance between herself and Rolland as possible. He had a wild look in his eyes. She didn’t have any weapons in her bedroom. Throwing a lamp at him might distract him for a moment, but it wouldn’t be effective against a gun.

  Casimir didn’t have a weapon to defend them either. Could he talk his way out of this without anyone else getting hurt?

  “A marriage to the king of Rizari is a bad idea. I plan to put a stop to it,” Rolland said. “Killing Casimir will be a bonus. He royally screwed up my plans. Excuse the pun.”

  “I’m not marrying the king of Rizari,” Serena said calmly.

  Rolland nodded toward the dresser where her engagement ring was sitting. “That ginormous rock says otherwise. And you forget. I saw you say yes to him.” Rolland lifted his gun at her.

  Casimir launched himself at Rolland. The assassin fought back, pinning Casimir to the floor and whipping him across the face with the gun.

  Serena was about to throw herself at Rolland when Casimir roared up from the floor, slamming Rolland into the footboard of the bed. Relief washed over her. Casimir seemed to be in control.

  Casimir grabbed Rolland’s hand, pounding it against the floor. The gun popped free and Serena scrambled to grab it. It felt heavy and awkward in her hands, but she held it straight out, in Rolland’s direction.

  “Don’t move,” she said.

  Casimir climbed to his feet and came to her side, taking the gun from her. He was breathing hard and covered in sweat.

  “Serena, call for an ambulance. Rolland needs one.”

  * * *

  Santino rushed to Serena and hugged her close. The police were on the scene and Casimir was speaking to them. Serena was worried about Casimir being up and around with his injuries, but he was handling the questions about Rolland. The bodies of her four guards were being loaded into ambulances. Rolland hadn’t been lying about that. Tonight four men had died protecting her.