by Diana Ames
“I don’t know the exact population. I would expect we’re somewhere around seventy-five thousand people,” Stephen told her. “It’s a small country, but the fact that we only have around three hundred prisoners is a good ratio.”
“Yes, but they’re all murderers!” Alondra nearly shouted.
“Many individual cities in your own country have much more and much worse crime everyday than we have here in decades,” Stephen said indignantly.
Alondra backed off immediately, realizing that she was alienating her inside source. “I’m sorry,” she told him sheepishly. “I was just a little shocked by the fact that your inmates are all murderers.”
Alondra raised her head and met his eyes. She gave him the wide-eyed, innocent look, a look she was only capable of pulling off due to the fact that she’d forgone her makeup and hair gel that morning because she didn’t know when she’d be able to wash properly again.
“Quite all right,” Stephen said, falling into the limpid pools that were her eyes. “I can understand how someone as sweet as yourself would find that shocking. You’re incredibly lucky not to have been introduced to the dregs of society.”
Alondra fought the snort that threatened to ruin everything she’d been working toward. It was so difficult not to tell the pompous twit in front of her that she’d majored in the dregs of society while working as a crime reporter in New York City. In fact, her big break had come from an interview with two rival gang leaders and the subsequent peace truce that resulted from her article.
“Since the legalization of prostitution” Alondra said, swallowing her revulsion and redirecting the conversation, “would you say there have been fewer convictions?”
“It’s more than just the legalization of prostitution,” Stephen said defensively. “The new laws have freed people from the stigma of their sexual desires and removed the guilt that causes them to act violently. Not only have we seen sex crimes eliminated, but also a decrease in other violent crime.” Stephen looked thoughtful. “The first year, we had almost a fifty percent drop in arrests and convictions. In the past two years, we’ve only had three new inmates.”
“Tell me about those,” Alondra said, resting her chin on her fists and leaning forward. She was trying to project an interest in the man while hiding just how badly she wanted the information he would reveal.
“The first two came in together,” Stephen told her. “Two pyromaniacs, both twenty-five-year-old males. We’d had a series of small fires in abandoned buildings and cars. It was nothing major. There was no indication of why these fires had been started or by whom, but because no one was injured and the fires weren’t close enough to anything to be more than a nuisance, effort was not put into investigating. But one night, these two men set fire to a house on the outskirts of their village. The house was supposed to be empty, but some children had dared each other to sleep there. Of the three children in the house, two were killed in the fire. The third lingered for almost a month before succumbing to death.”
Alondra’s eyes had gone wide as he told the story. It amazed her that no one had bothered to investigate the random fires until someone died. Those three children could have been saved. They should have been safe, but no one had thought the fires were important.
“The third is a sad case indeed,” Stephen said. “A thirty-year-old woman, a skilled physician, was so delusional that she ended up murdering two people in cold blood.”
“What were her delusions?” Alondra asked. When she saw the look on his face, she was quick to add, “If it doesn’t violate any privileges for you to tell me, that is.”
“Everyone else in the country knows, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you” Stephen said with a sigh. “Gillian Portsmith was the head of the medical facility inside the castle. She was—is in love with Prince Anton, and she had delusions that he was in love with her. She claims that the children of Prince Damian and Princess Mellissandra actually belong to Prince Anton and herself. She has even gone so far as to say that she and Prince Anton murdered his mother ten years ago.” Stephen shook his head. “She is starting to show some progress though.”
“She’s no longer delusional?”
“She’s not healthy yet,” Stephen said. “But she has begun to express remorse over the murders. I’m afraid it will be a long time before she accepts that she didn’t have a relationship with Prince Anton.”
“What happens if she progresses and realizes the truth?” Alondra asked.
“Right now, she is housed in our maximum-security psychiatric wing. If she progresses far enough, which will take a great deal of time and effort and is by no means a certainty, she will be moved into the low-security garden wing,” he told her. “It is a more pleasant life with more freedoms and privileges. The prisoners there don’t wear shackles, and the guards don’t monitor every move. Right now, she can’t even take a shower without being observed. She isn’t given a razor to shave, and she can’t have her own personal bar of soap.”
“I see,” Alondra said. Listening to Stephen talk, she felt pity for Gillian. His words nearly convinced Alondra that Gillian was guilty, but something still felt off to her. “I take it there was a lot of evidence against this woman?”
“The evidence was circumstantial until she confessed to Prince Anton before trying to take his head off with a fireplace poker,” Stephen said.
Alondra pondered the fact that the only thing that had convicted Gillian Portsmith was the word of the prince, who had been inconvenienced by her presence. It took some effort to keep her teeth from grinding together in aggravation.
“So, Stephen,” Alondra said, her voice falsely cheerful, “any chance I could get a tour of the prison?”
***
Mellissandra stormed out of the room and headed for her children. Arabella was fussing as usual while Dominic was cooing softly and playing with his toes. Mellissandra picked Dominic up first because she was determined not to show Arabella more attention just because she fussed and he didn’t. Once Mellissandra finished changing his wet diaper, she retrieved her daughter and did the same with her.
Stripping off her shirt and gathering both babies to her, Mellissandra sat in the rocking chair and began to nurse. She was proud of the fact that she could nurse both babies at once. It was a real accomplishment in her mind. When her mother had given birth to twins, they’d had to have formula supplements because she could not produce enough milk to nourish them both in one feeding.
As she rocked with her babies suckling her breasts, Mellissandra’s anger seemed to disappear. After consideration, she realized just how bad finding her in the same bed with Anton must have looked to Damian, particularly after their conversation last week. She’d told Damian that inviting Anton into their marriage bed would give him hope of something that could never be. She supposed Damian could be forgiven for not seeing past his rage. Even though Anton had been on top of the covers, her fully clothed body hadn’t been visible from beneath the soft quilt. In Damian’s position, Mellissandra knew she would have been furious, and that she would have also jumped to the conclusion that Damian had been unfaithful.
Both babies finished nursing, and Mellissandra put one on each shoulder to burp them. She felt the grin steal across her lips when they let out identical belches in sync with each other. They might not actually be twins, but they would sure act like it at times.
With a skill she’d mastered early on in their lives, Mellissandra put on her shirt while still holding both babies. Leaving the nursery, she headed to the bedroom to find Damian. She was going to give him a chance to explain where he had been yesterday and last night and perhaps apologize for this morning.
***
Anton reentered the bedroom, still green and nauseous from the flashback, and saw Damian in a defeated pose.
“Nothing happened here, Damian,” Anton said quietly.
“I know,” Damian whispered. “I really messed up this time.” He looked up at Anton. “Oh my God, are you ill, brothe
r?”
“Not physically,” Anton said.
“I owe you an apology,” Damian said, rising to his feet. “You are my brother. You have supported my marriage, and you have been a good friend to my wife. I should have had faith and trust in both of you and not jumped to erroneous and hurtful conclusions.” He put his hands on Anton’s shoulders. “I am so sorry. I will never allow my jealousy to overrule my good sense again, brother.”
“Damian,” Anton said hesitantly. “While it is true that nothing happened here last night, I feel I must be honest.” He took a deep breath. “If she would have given me one signal, one sign, that she wanted me to make love to her, I don’t know if I could have turned her down.” Anton cringed internally, but he showed nothing on his face or with his body language. He wasn’t going to lie to Damian, no matter what the cost.
While Anton hadn’t had even the first twinges of an erection while Mellissandra was crying in his arms, if she had given any indication that she wanted him, he had little doubt he would have had her naked and been inside her in the blink of an eye. Anton waited for the blow he was sure Damian was going to send flying at him, but it never came.
“You are my brother, and she is my wife. I have never had any reason to doubt either of you in the past.” Damian stared steadily into Anton’s eyes. “You might think you would betray me if given the chance, but I know better. I should have known better before I started screaming earlier.”
Anton released the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding and shook his head at Damian. “I wish I had the faith in me that you seem to.”
“I can’t apologize enough for earlier,” Damian said. He pulled his hands back and lowered his head. “Me and you,” he began, “we’re just getting a real relationship going. It’s not a relationship I ever thought I’d want or need, but now that I have it, I don’t want to lose it.” He began pacing the room. “Can you forgive me?” He stopped and looked at Anton.
“Nothing to forgive, brother,” Anton said. “As far as I’m concerned, I owe you so much more than could ever be repaid. Your one outburst sparked by an incriminating scene is nothing but a bump in the road.”
“Thank you,” Damian said softly. “I only hope Sandra can forgive me as easily. Marriage and family”—he laughed harshly—“are yet more relationships that I didn’t think I would ever want or need—” He broke off when he heard a gasp come from the bedroom door.
There stood Mellissandra with a baby in each arm. Her face was ghost white, and she looked like she was about to pass out.
“I will save you the trouble of explaining, Damian,” Mellissandra said. “The children and I will be out of the castle by nightfall.”
“No—” Damian started to say.
“Stop,” she said, holding up one hand. “I have heard all I need to hear. We will no longer burden you with a family you don’t want or need.”
“Mellissandra,” Anton began, taking a step toward her, “I am not going to allow you to take the babies away from the castle.” His voice was gentle but firm. “You need to listen to him.”
“I don’t want to hear any more, Anton,” she said, her voice quivering with unshed tears.
Damian watched Anton take Arabella from his wife; Mellissandra looked like she was ready to breakdown at any moment. He couldn’t understand how one decision had led to the chaos unfolding before his eyes.
“I won’t force you to stay here, but you are not leaving the castle,” Anton said. “We can move you to another apartment if that makes you feel better, but you are not leaving.”
“I will go,” Damian said stiffly. “There is no point in uprooting the children.” He didn’t mention that he would not be able to live in this apartment, sleep in their bed, or bathe in their shower without her.
Damian began to leave the bedroom, but something stopped him. He looked at his children and wondered how he’d messed things up so badly that he had to leave them. He looked at his wife, and the tears he hadn’t known were inside him spilled onto his cheeks.
“This is not what I want,” he whispered. “I love you, Mellissandra,” he said, using her full name for effect. “This is a misunderstanding.”
“I understand perfectly,” she told him. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving yesterday. After you left, you refused to tell me where you went or what you were doing. Today, you come in here and jump to crazy conclusions. If you had looked closely, you would have noted that both Anton and I were fully dressed in that bed. Then, I come back to let you explain yourself, hoping you would explain yourself, only to hear you tell Anton that you never wanted or needed a wife or family. What don’t I understand?” By the time she finished, Mellissandra was shouting.
The noise frightened Dominic, who was still in her arms, and he started to cry.
Mellissandra took Arabella from Anton and turned to Damian once more. “I’ll be with the babies in their room. Please have a maid notify me when you’re gone,” she told him. Then, she left the room once again.
Damian sank to his knees, tears blinding him and pain settling deep in the pit of his stomach. The best things he’d ever had had just walked out of his life.
CHAPTER 8
“So, you only have to participate as much as you are comfortable,” Stephen said, addressing the inmates sitting in the circle of chairs.
After another half an hour of flirting, he’d finally agreed to take Alondra into the prison with him that afternoon, and now, he was telling the prisoners who she was and what she was looking for.
“With all that being said, Alondra has the floor.”
All eyes turned to Alondra. She smiled a confident smile even though half the people sitting there made her skin crawl. There were ten inmates, seven of whom were male, and all were in shackles. The one inmate Alondra had really wanted to interview was missing, but she would play the game if the end result was the one she desired.
“My name is Alondra Burkheart,” she began. “As Dr. Steve”—she grimaced at the name he’d instructed her to call him inside the prison walls—“told you, I’m a reporter from New York, and I’m doing an article about foreign prisons and crime rates.”
“I’d like to do you,” one of the inmates said under his breath.
“I want you all to feel comfortable speaking with me,” Alondra continued, ignoring the comment. “So, the first thing I want to do is reassure you that anything you tell me will only be used anonymously. I will not publicize your names or ages. The only things that would be used are your experiences here and possibly how you got here.”
“I have handpicked this group because I feel each of you would have something unique to add to Ms. Burkheart’s article,” Stephen said. “But if any of you would not like to participate, please feel free to say so now.”
“Do we get any extras if we do participate?” a woman asked.
“No,” Stephen said slowly. “The only reward would be helping the world understand our way of doing things. Likewise, there is no consequence if you choose not to participate.”
“Well, count me out then,” the same woman said. “I don’t like the thought of some snooty woman using me for anything. I’ve been used enough.”
“Anyone else?” Stephen asked. When three other people raised their hands, he nodded. “Alright, you are all dismissed. Please line up at the door, and I’ll call the guards.” He rose to his feet and walked to the intercom on the wall.
A few minutes later, two guards entered the room and led the four inmates out.
“Okay then,” Alondra said hesitantly, her mind already plotting ways to get Gillian Portsmith in this room. “I’d like to start in the group setting,” she told the remaining prisoners. “I’ll ask a question, and we’ll go around the circle for each of you to answer. We’ll save any major details you want to share for one-on-one interviews.” Alondra pulled her tape recorder out of her bag. She pressed play and set it on the small table beside her chair. “Alondra Burkheart, Colania Prison,” she said for tape ident
ification purposes.
“How long have each of you been here? And what was your crime?”
***
Anyone who could have seen her would immediately know something was wrong with Mellissandra. She was sitting on the floor with her children, but she wasn’t singing or tickling or giggling with them. She just watched with sad, dull eyes as they played with their toes and explored each other’s faces.
Damian had left the apartment hours ago, and a maid had come to tell her that his clothing had been moved to another apartment. Mellissandra was devastated by the events of the past two days, and she didn’t know if she was going to be able to recover.
When she’d raged at Damian earlier, it had been her own hurt and pain talking. After she’d left the room, she’d instantly felt remorse for her words. Up until the maid appeared, she’d hoped and prayed with all her heart that Damian would come to her and tell her again how it was all a misunderstanding and that splitting up wasn’t what he wanted. But he never did, and she was alone with her broken heart.
When she’d been sent from the castle over a year ago, Mellissandra had thought it was the worst hurt and rejection she would ever feel. She knew now that she had been wrong. Having lived with and loved Damian for over a year, she’d started a family with him and dreamed dreams with him, which made it so much more difficult to be without him.
Moisture leaked from beneath her eyelids as she tried to hold back her sobs. Mellissandra might have lost her husband, but she was still a fabulous mother, and she wasn’t about to let this affect her babies any more than necessary. She knew Dominic and Arabella would miss their father blowing raspberries on their tummies in the evening and singing to them softly in his deep voice when they woke up early in the morning. Mellissandra choked up again, remembering that the kind gesture had been as much for her benefit as for Damian’s and the babies’. Some days, the few extra minutes of sleep were all that got her through.
Mellissandra lay down on the thick carpet beside the playing children. She’d never felt more exhausted and devastated in her life, even when her brother had died, but she was going to survive. For her children, she would find a way to survive.
