by Diana Ames
“Spend the night in your apartment?” Anton interrupted with a gulp. He wanted to say no. His plan of avoiding Mellissandra and the children hinged on him keeping his distance, not sleeping in the next room.
“Yes.” Damian stopped pacing and gave Anton a hard look. He knew it wouldn’t be easy for Anton to be so close to Mellissandra for such a long period of time, but Damian needed someone Mellissandra could trust, someone he could trust, to keep them safe in his absence. “It’s only if I don’t make it back by dark. I don’t know how long my task will take.”
“Get a maid or someone else to stay with them, Damian. I can’t do it.”
“Look, Anton, we need to clear the air here,” Damian said baldly. “I know how you feel about her, and honestly, it doesn’t bother me, brother. She cares for you, too.”
“You know?” Anton whispered, his face going white.
“Of course I know,” Damian said. “It does not bother me. I have no jealousy toward you. I trust both you and Sandra not to betray me.”
“Does”—Anton licked his lips—“she know?”
Damian met his eyes. “Yes.”
He watched as the muscles seemed to dissolve from Anton’s body, and Anton slumped back down onto the weight bench.
Damian crouched down in front of Anton, so they were eye-to-eye.
“She cares for you as well, Anton,” Damian said softly.
“She’s your wife, Damian,” Anton said gruffly. “I shouldn’t feel like this for her. You both knowing how I feel only makes it worse.”
“Yes, she is my wife,” Damian agreed. “But that doesn’t stop her from caring about you, and it doesn’t make me jealous.”
Anton’s head snapped to attention, and he looked at Damian as if he’d lost his mind.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Damian said, laughing a little. “I’m not giving you permission to put the moves on my wife, but I have to say that I kind of like knowing how much you care about her. It makes me feel more secure to know you’re around for her when I can’t be.”
“I’m a fucking monster, Damian!” Anton shouted, jumping up once again. “You should be doing everything you can to keep me away from your family, not handing them over to me.”
“You are not a monster,” Damian argued. “You are my brother. You love my wife, possibly as much as I do. I know you would never, ever harm her or our children. I know you would kill or die to protect them. Who better to hand them over to?”
“Damian,” Anton said past the lump swelling in his throat. He wasn’t sure he could handle the emotions swirling through him at that moment.
“Just tell me that you’ll be there for them tonight if I don’t make it home,” Damian said quietly. “I need to be able to focus and get this done. A whole lot is riding on me being successful today.”
“Try your best to come back before night,” Anton said softly.
“I will, brother,” Damian said just as softly. “I will.”
***
Alondra waved good-bye to James from the porch of the boarding house. She’d found a room in the first place she tried. James being with her had helped immensely. It had become obvious that being associated with the prison in a professional capacity gave a person an elevated status.
Alondra shook her head and went inside. While still fresh in her mind, she wanted to make some notes on all the information James had given her.
“So, how long you sticking around for, honey?” a voice said, startling Alondra as she was coming in the front door.
“Oh,” Alondra said, grabbing her chest as though she could contain her frightened heart.
“Sorry, honey,” the voice said again.
The gray-haired short woman who had rented the room to Alondra came into the lit foyer. “I was wondering how long you would be staying.”
“Oh, I’m not really sure,” Alondra replied.
“This is a beautiful area for a vacation,” the woman said to her. “But I can’t see someone traveling as far as you have just for a vacation.” Her shrewd eyes cut into Alondra.
“No, you’re right. I’m not here just for a vacation,” Alondra said. She would answer a direct question, but she wasn’t about to offer information.
“I see.” The woman looked at Alondra critically. “Here for work then?”
“Yes, I am,” Alondra said without elaborating. “Now, I think I’m going to head up to my room. I’d like to rest a little before dinner.”
“Of course, of course,” she said, moving to allow Alondra access to the steps. “Dinner will be served promptly at six. Don’t be late, dear. We don’t hold food over.”
Alondra just smiled stiffly and walked quickly up the steps. She hoped she wouldn’t have to stay here long. That woman gave her the creeps. Entering her room, Alondra made sure to lock the door behind her. After digging out her laptop and connecting the modem, Alondra sat and began checking her email. She couldn’t wait to email her notes to her boss. She had a feeling the story of the century was right here on this little island.
CHAPTER 4
She sat alone in a six-by-six padded room. It was an upgrade from the observation tank, but there was still very little to occupy herself. The guards would give her paper but no pen or pencil to write with. She was permitted to have books, but they were all censored for anything that might trigger an episode. Of course, trying to read a book that had every other line blacked out was hardly calming to her fragile mind.
Someone would come daily to escort her to the shower. She would be given a bar of soap, a washcloth, and shampoo; and she’d have to promptly return all of them because her restrictions wouldn’t allow her to keep anything that contained chemicals. She hadn’t shaved since she arrived here because they wouldn’t allow her to have a razor. She didn’t understand the need for all the observation and suicide prevention steps. She had never once threatened her own life. She had too much to live for.
She had no doubt her child had been born healthy, not that they had given her any information. She’d overheard some of the guards talking about the twins who were born to Prince Damian and Princess Mellissandra. She would concede that it could be possible, but when she hadn’t heard word of any other birth, she knew those babies were hers.
Gilly grinned at the wall as she thought of holding her children. It was going to happen soon. She just had to convince them that she was well enough to get out of here.
***
Alondra finished her notes and emailed them off to New York. She was thankful that the boarding house seemed to have consistent electricity and that her satellite connections were working properly. She wasn’t sure if she could handle one more failure this soon in her trip. As it was, she didn’t know how she was going to get access to Gillian Portsmith. If everyone assumed Gillian was as crazy as James had indicated, she was most likely in the mental ward of the prison. Alondra doubted that anyone would allow her to waltz in and interview a crazy woman, especially one claiming to have murdered the queen.
Alondra double-checked to be sure her email had gone through, and then she packed up her laptop. She didn’t trust her hostess not to snoop through her things, so she wanted to make sure she had everything as secure as possible. Glancing around the room, Alondra was satisfied that nothing indicating her job or why she was really here was plainly visible.
Grabbing her backpack with a tape recorder, notebook, and her satellite phone, Alondra slipped out of her room and tiptoed down the stairs. She glanced around for her nosy landlady, and not seeing anyone, she sneaked out the front door. She didn’t relax until she was out of sight of the boarding house, and then she kept glancing over her shoulder as if expecting the woman to be following her.
The village wasn’t large, but it still took Alondra almost half an hour to spot the prison. The stone walls loomed high, and Alondra tried to judge how much farther she would have to walk before she actually reached the imposing structure. Nearly ten minutes had passed before the prison appeared in front of her.
“Hey,” a voice yelled out.
Alondra jerked and looked around for the source of the shout.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” A man in uniform approached her from one side of the prison. He was on foot and armed with a rifle.
Alondra quickly put her hands in the air. “I didn’t mean any harm!” she shouted back to him. “I’m not armed or anything.”
“Who are you, and what are you doing here, lady?” the guard said, walking closer.
“My name is Alondra Burkheart. I’m a reporter from New York,” she began. “I’m doing an extensive series on foreign prisons and penal systems, comparing them along with the crime rate to ours.”
“Do you have permission from one of the princes to be here?” the guard asked her, lowering his weapon and coming closer. “The only way to get in there,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “is to commit a serious crime, get a job there, or get royal permission.”
“What about visitors?” Alondra asked.
“No one wants to visit most of the people in there,” he told her.
“Would you be willing to talk to me?” Alondra batted her eyelashes at the guard. “You know, outside of the prison?”
She didn’t move toward him or touch his arm as she normally would have. He was still armed even if he’d lowered the weapon.
“That’s real flattering, lady,” he said with a guffaw. “But I can go to a whorehouse for what you’re offering, and all they want is my money.” His tone hardened as did his gaze. “You want my job. Now, get out of here before I decide you need a tour of our security office. You wouldn’t like that tour. It’s not very informative,” he told her.
Alondra backed away from the pissed off guard. She was a little frightened by this man, but his refusal to even talk to her about the prison made her even more determined to get the inside story hiding here.
“Don’t come back here without a royal letter unless you want to stay a while!” the guard yelled at her.
Alondra began backing away faster, and when she was sure he wouldn’t open fire, she turned around and began jogging away. Once she was no longer in the shadow of the looming structure and the gun-wielding guard was out of sight, Alondra pulled the tape recorder out of her pocket. She pushed the rewind button and then listened to the playback. A grin transformed her face as she realized she’d caught every word the guard said to her.
***
“Anton,” Mellissandra said with happy surprise when she opened the apartment door. “I didn’t think you were coming by today.”
“I hadn’t intended on visiting today,” he replied a little uncomfortably, “but Damian asked me to stay here tonight—”
“What?” Mellissandra cut him off. “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to have a pajama party,” she said, “but why would Damian ask you to stay here?”
“He left the castle grounds, and he wasn’t sure if he’d make it back tonight,” Anton said. Giving her a puzzled look, he asked, “He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Mellissandra said firmly. “Where was he going? What was he doing that he had to leave the grounds?”
“He didn’t say,” Anton said, “and I didn’t ask. I just assumed you knew about all of this.”
“Humph. I’m just the wife,” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice. “I’m the meek and submissive little wife. Why should he tell me anything?”
“I’m not touching that one.” Anton smiled wryly. “But I don’t think anyone, least of all Damian, sees you as meek and submissive.”
“Anton,” Mellissandra said, snapping to attention, “watch the babies. They’re sleeping right now, and they should be fine for at least the next hour.”
“Wait, what? Why? Where are you going?” Anton sputtered.
Mellissandra ignored him and moved to the intercom beside the front door. She pressed the button for the security office, and didn’t wait for the security officer to acknowledge her. “Mellissandra, security code five-three-four-B. Did my husband take a castle vehicle on his trip?” she demanded.
“I believe he did, Mrs. Bellaro,” the security guard stammered through the intercom.
“I’ll be right there. Get him on the radio.” Mellissandra stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Anton stared after the fuming Mellissandra, and for the first time, he was thankful that she wasn’t his wife. Turning to go into the living room, Anton groaned as he heard a baby’s small wail. Mellissandra’s violent exit must have awoken the babies.
***
“Damian? Come in, Damian,” the guard said into the radio. For the last few minutes, he had been trying to get the prince on the radio. Even though he’d had no luck, he wasn’t going to give up. He’d never seen or heard the princess angry before, but from the way she’d sounded over the intercom, he wouldn’t want that anger directed at him.
“Yeah, this is Damian.” The radio crackled.
“Oh, thank God,” the guard muttered. “Your wife is on her way up to security now. She’s fit to be tied, sir. She ordered me to get you on the radio—”
“Tell her you failed,” Damian said, cutting him off.
“Uh…sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the guard said haltingly. “She’s, um…she’s really angry about something, sir.”
“Tell her you couldn’t reach me. Tell her I must have been out of the car or out of range or whatever you have to—”
“Too late, Damian.” Mellissandra cut him off as she entered the security office.
The guard turned to look at her. Her eyes were flashing with rage, and that red hair looked like the fire of hell. He wasn’t sticking around for this fight.
“It’s an open mic, ma’am,” the guard said before moving out of her way. “I’ll just give you some privacy.”
***
“Sandra,” Damian said in a weary tone of voice.
“Where the hell are you, Damian? Why did I have to find out from Anton that you were taking an overnight trip? And why the fuck did you tell that guard to lie to me?” She was shouting by the end of her tirade, but sadness was quickly overtaking her anger.
“Sandra,” he repeated patiently. “I’ll be home sometime tomorrow. We can talk then.”
“Damian, have you stopped loving me?” she asked quietly. “Are you leaving me?”
“Sandra, no,” Damian said into the radio. “We’ll talk tomorrow after I’m home. I promise.”
Mellissandra didn’t respond. She pushed the button to close off the microphone, and she buried her face in her hands. She felt so foolish. He really had married her because she was pregnant. He just lied so well and made love to her so beautifully that she’d wanted to believe him. The thoughts racing through her mind were causing pain deep in her chest, and her body collapsed in agony. Mellissandra sank to her knees and sobbed until she had no tears left to cry.
***
Anton walked into the nursery to find that Dominic was still sleeping soundly, but Arabella was quickly working herself up into full-blown hysteria.
“You can do this, Anton,” he muttered to himself. “She’s just a little baby. You aren’t going to hurt her.”
He moved closer to her crib and peeked in at Arabella. Her face was beet red, and he could see she was building up to let out a scream that would bring down the walls. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her arms and legs were frantically waving around.
“Arabella,” he said softly. “Calm down, baby girl. Calm down for Uncle Anton.” When his crooning didn’t work, he put a hand on her head and rubbed. When she yelled louder, he snatched his hand back. “Come on, honey. Uncle Anton doesn’t know what to do with two crying babies. Shh…”
In desperation, Anton finally reached into the crib and picked up the wailing baby. He’d learned his lesson with Dominic yesterday, and he immediately cradled her to his chest. She stuffed one fist in her mouth and began sucking, finding the comfort she was seeking in his warm arms.
&
nbsp; Moving to the rocking chair, Anton sat with the baby. He ran one finger over her soft cheek, and he couldn’t stop his smile when she turned into his hand. She was beautiful, just like her brother. Also just like her brother, she looked exactly like her mother. Anton hummed under his breath as he rocked the baby in his arms. The hypnotic motion of the chair soon had him deep in memories.
“Mother, you aren’t fat anymore,” Anton said, climbing onto the bed with his mother.
“No, darling, Mother isn’t fat anymore. Mother will never be fat like that again,” she told him.
“Why, Mother?” the curious four-year-old asked.
“Mother did a naughty thing, Anton. As punishment, your father has made sure that Mother will never grow another child in her belly ever again.”
“You had a child in your belly, Mother?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Oh, yes, my son. You have a brother, but you won’t be allowed to know him as such for a long, long time,” she told him.
Anton stared at his mother and was terrified by the tears running down her face.
“You’ll always be my baby, won’t you, Anton? You’ll always be Mother’s little boy?” she pleaded with him.
“Oh, yes, Mother,” Anton said solemnly.
“Come here, my baby,” she said, her eyes glazing over. “Come and nurse at Mother’s breast.”
Anton crawled onto his mother’s lap. He was unsure of what she’d meant, but he knew he needed to make his mother happy again. When Mother opened her nightshirt and pulled his head to her chest, he was confused and didn’t know what to do.
“Just put your mouth here and suckle, darling,” Mother said, plumping her breast and pushing it between his lips. “That’s right, baby,” she said. “Feed.”
Anton snapped out of his reverie when the baby wiggled against his tightening hold. He immediately loosened his grip and glanced down to make sure he hadn’t hurt the child. When he saw her eyes were closed and her jaw was slack, he carefully carried her back to her crib. He planted a light kiss on the tuft of hair growing from her head and whispered his love to her before laying her down. Checking on Dominic, Anton kissed the baby’s fingertips and repeated the gesture once again before leaving the room.
