The Royal Runaway

by Lindsay Emory

  I hesitated. This was where things were going to get tricky. “Yes.”

  “I didn’t have any firm files in my apartment.” Christian’s nostrils flared. “You’re making this up.”

  “I didn’t say they were actual papers, you idiot. I found them on the Boson Chapelle network.”

  Tamar looked at Christian. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  I didn’t want to give Christian another chance to speak. “One can’t access the firm’s client files without either a network computer or administrator’s privileges. We didn’t have either, so one of Nick’s colleagues found us the admin password.”

  When Tamar looked unconvinced, I doubled down. “I saw the client lists and drew the connections. How else would I know about the Magdalena Energy accounts and the foreign incorporation agreements?”

  Christian was triumphant “Yes. See, darling? I told you having Nick looking for them would be good for us. He’s quite ruthless when he wants something.”

  While I hated agreeing with Christian, the truth of that statement was like an arrow through my heart. Nick was ruthless, even cold, when the situation demanded it. I only hoped that he could spare one last thought for me when the time came.

  Tamar pivoted to me. “And you were able to get in with this administrator password.”

  “Yes, but I left it in Scotland, on a piece of paper in Christian’s agenda. I had no reason to want to get to the files again, not after we saw the photo of Christian’s body.”

  She paced, three steps then back, quick, jerky steps. “I can get in from the palace network. No one will track me there. But first I need to get my hands on that book.”

  I had to jump on that opportunity. “I’ll help you. We’ll go to Scotland together. Princess Theodora will want to pay her respects to the home of her ex-fiancé. While we’re there, we’ll get the password and you can get the firm records to sell to Anders.”

  Tamar was looking between Christian and me, speculation clear on her face. This could backfire badly.

  Then she made her decision. “No. You will stay here with Christian. I’ll go to Scotland and tell them I’m representing you, and you can tell me where to look for this agenda.”

  I nodded and thought quickly. “Of course. You’ll have to call ahead, give them some excuse that there are items of his that I want.”

  “Who do I call?”

  “There’s a card in my top desk drawer. Plain, with just a number on it. Call it and ask for the Brisbane Castle butler. Then tell him who you are, and that you’ll be visiting to pick up some items for me. Specifically, you’ll want Christian’s journal.”

  Finally, she smiled slightly at me. “Thank you for this information. This search has been exhausting.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said faintly.

  After she left to go make her calls from a safer location, Christian gave me a long, searching look, and I didn’t know what else to say to him. “Good luck storming the castle” would be insincere. And I hadn’t reached the point where I felt the need to dramatically beg for my life.

  So I stayed silent and when Christian left me alone, I reached for the tray and the sandwich that Tamar had left hours earlier.

  She may have drugged the food, but I needed all the strength I could get for what was coming next.

  thirty-nine

  THE SANDWICH HAD BEEN LACED with something. I slept fitfully, as if a voice in a dark corner of my mind were yelling at me to wake up and take notice of something I had missed.

  Finally, my eyes creaked open. The rose and salmon and coral clouds hovered around me, like the bloated innards of some hungry monster that had swallowed me whole.

  An unknowable stretch of time had passed; my head swam, my stomach ached. I tried to make myself vomit, then nearly passed out from the effort. I floated in an ocean of anger at Christian’s betrayal. It was strangely soothing, a life force that I could cling to, a reason to stay conscious, to live.

  I listened to the sounds of the city outside, as if it were my last chance at communing with my people.

  The history books might never know how I ended up here in this grotesque fantasy of a princess bedroom—if I was ever found in the first place, that is. If Tamar and Christian both disappeared, who would tell this tale?

  My one fading spark of hope grew fainter with each hour. There was no other plan or ploy for me to make. So I closed my eyes and treasured the sounds of trucks, tires, and sirens. It was all I had left to cling to.

  I tumbled into darkness and the sirens grew louder.

  My heartbeat grew louder, too, like the sound of a thump, thump, thump I heard from far away—a sound that was soft, yet firm and determined. The sound was an echo of a footstep I had once learned well on a boat.

  There was a distant boom, much like the sound I’d once heard in the National Galleries as Nick tried to protect me.

  Another set of footsteps. A loud profanity. My eyes snapped open when my arm was yanked. Christian was standing over me, a knife glinting in the rose-tinted dusk. He held a finger to his lips, which would have been funny if I’d had any ability to make any sort of noise at all. Then the knife sliced down, landing inches from my arm, making a soft zing as the rope was cut.

  Although he was smaller than his brother, Christian was strong enough to carry me out of the bedroom. As we went down a hall, another explosion went off, this time louder.

  Shouts came from below, and a roar of movement followed. So did another string of curses from Christian’s lips.

  Another ten feet and we entered a tiny library. There was no pink here, only antique wood-paneled walls and dusty, empty bookcases. A small cot sat in the corner, with piles of blankets and a neat stack of clothes on a narrow table. That was where he dumped me like a sack of dirty laundry. I groaned.

  “Can you shut up, please?”

  “No,” I managed.

  “Fucking horse pills,” Christian muttered as he bent over and grabbed something that rattled like another medication bottle. He shoved something inside his mouth, and I saw the slick shine of the gun barrel that he slid into his waistband. He took two steps, kicked the door to the room closed, and came back to the cot, pulling me onto his knee like a ventriloquist’s doll.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  The slamming of the door to the room must have been a signal to what sounded like hundreds of soldiers storming the apartment. Then the door flew off its hinges.

  Nick stood in the doorway, an assault rifle pointed straight at us.

  Christian stood, me along with him, his arm wrapped around my middle. “Look who it is, darling. My brother’s come to rescue you. Isn’t that sweet?”

  Nick’s expression was cold and deadly. Christian used his free arm to pull his own weapon out. He pointed it at Nick. “I really didn’t want it to come to this. Brother versus brother. It’s so . . . I don’t know. What is it, Thea? What’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “An unfair fight?” I managed.

  Christian chuckled in my ear. “Oh, you are smitten, aren’t you? Something about the men in our family must really do it for you.”

  “You call yourself a man?” Nick snarled. “Hiding behind a woman? Let her go and then we can deal with this like we used to back in Scotland.”

  “I call myself a duke, actually. I have your title, your princess, and I’m afraid I’m not doing anything like I used to.” Christian caressed under my breast. “Unless Thea asks me to. Then I’ll consider it.”

  Nick’s lip curled and he sighted his rifle. “One last chance before I blow you away. Let her go.”

  Christian snapped off his safety. “We have some terms to negotiate first.”

  “Don’t do it, don’t negotiate,” I said to Nick. “Shoot him.”

  Christian sighed. “Okay, fine.” He pulled the trigger. I screamed over the ringing in my ears.

  Nick was on the floor clutching at his right shoulder, his rifle strewn across the floor. Blood was smearing across h
is palm as he tried to sit up.

  My knees sagged. Christian dug his fist into my stomach to hold me tighter.

  He addressed Nick again in that calm, almost smug voice. I wanted to turn around and claw his eyes out. “I suggest you be a good boy and let me leave. You’ve got one good arm and you’ll need it if you want her out of here alive.”

  Nick immediately looked at me and I just shook my head a little. I didn’t know what Christian was talking about. I was a little loopy, yes, but I didn’t feel on the verge of imminent death.

  Then Christian spun me around and kissed me, forcing my mouth open, pushing his tongue inside. And something else. The pills. I gagged, then swallowed without meaning to. I choked as he let me go and fell to my knees.

  He leapt to the back of the room as I continued coughing. Gagging. Trying to get whatever it was out of me.

  The corners of my vision started going black.

  • • •

  “THEA!” URGENT AND ROUGH. “THEA! I’m going to kill the fucking bastard, so help me God.”

  Warm and solid.

  “Come on, Princess. Don’t give up. You hear me? Don’t you fucking give up.”

  Sweet and hot. Warm and safe.

  I died in Nick’s arms.

  • • •

  WHEN I OPENED MY EYES, all I could see was Nick leaning over me, his hand clutching mine. I whispered his name, not sure if this was heaven or hell.

  “I’m here, Princess. You’re going to be fine.” From the ferocity in his face, I believed him, even though it felt like my head was in a vise.

  “Christian—”

  He cut me off. “Shhh. Don’t talk.”

  “Where is he?”

  Nick put a hand on my forehead and yelled at the driver of the vehicle we were in the back of. “For Christ’s sake, she needs a doctor!”

  “No, Nick.”

  He kissed my fingers. “Stay with me, Princess.”

  “Your arm?”

  He ignored my question, choosing to stroke my hair instead, and then, after I closed my eyes again, I felt his lips on mine. Fitting that the last kiss I would ever receive would erase the last kiss his brother would ever give me.

  • • •

  EFFICIENT AND REASSURING, THE DOCTOR informed me that Christian had forced me to swallow an overdose of the tranquilizers Tamar had been giving me. My heart had indeed stopped, and I had been brought back to life by what she called “emergency procedures.”

  “You were very lucky.” She smiled warmly.

  I supposed it could’ve been luck. But I’d bet it was having Nick by my side.

  “Where am I?” I asked. The room had all the hospital paraphernalia, but the environment was eerily silent.

  “You’re safe here,” she said with another too-nice American smile. “It’s a private medical facility.”

  I wondered whether my government knew the CIA and/or MI6 had private medical facilities in Drieden. I made a mental note to learn more when I had the energy to think of such things.

  Fading back into sleep, I had to ask, “Where’s Nick?” But I’m not sure I was coherent, or maybe the doctor’s American-accented Driedish wasn’t perfect, because she answered, “Max will be here soon.”

  When my eyes opened again, it wasn’t Max Cornelius by my bedside, but Nick. He was in his standard all-black shirt and cargo pants. How people didn’t see the military experience in their midst, I’d never know. He had tough-as-nails written all over him . . . except his expression, gazing down at me.

  As weak as I was, recovering from a heart failure and the general emotional trauma of being kidnapped, it was Nick’s face, full of concern and deep regard, that buoyed me. When was the last time someone had looked at me this way? Had it happened when I was a child, even? I was a princess of Drieden, surrounded by every luxury. I had a big family, devoted subjects, enamored fans around the world. But not even Lucy looked at me the way Nick did. Like maybe I was a real person—a real woman—at last.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  “Hello there.” His smile was tense. “Were you enjoying your nap?”

  Thank you. The words were on my lips but I knew he’d bat them away, and I didn’t want to be rejected. Not yet. “I had a hard day,” I said instead.

  “You did. Taking tea and painting watercolors and whatever else you princesses do.”

  “I’m sorry I got you shot.”

  He frowned. “Yeah. That keeps happening around you.”

  I knew he took refuge in the jokes. Teasing me was safe, for some reason. I didn’t have the energy to keep up with him right now.

  “Tamar . . .”

  He put his hand on mine. “We’re not talking about her.”

  “Christian?”

  His jaw audibly clicked. “We’re not talking about him, either,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “What happened after I went down?”

  “There was a secret door in the paneling. Probably left over from Leopold the Fifth’s reign.”

  The joke fell flat. Partially because he hadn’t put his heart in it. Partially because that reference made no sense—everyone knew the last Leopold had been Leopold the Fourth.

  “So he got away?” I asked.

  Nick’s eyes dropped to where our hands joined. “I’ll find him. And he will pay.”

  On the one hand, I couldn’t understand what Nick had gone through during the past few hours. Threatening to shoot and then being shot by a brother seemed traumatizing. As dysfunctional as my family was, neither Henry nor Sophie nor Caroline would ever shoot me, I was fairly certain. But being from that same dysfunctional family, I could understand some of Nick’s possible issues. After all, just a few days ago I had thought my grandmother had ordered my fiancé murdered. It was going to take me a while to work through that.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly.

  “You nearly died today. I think me going into the details of the torture I intend to inflict on my brother would be detrimental to your recovery.”

  “Another time,” I said. “We can brainstorm ideas.”

  He laughed a little at my joke. Probably because it wasn’t really a joke.

  “Tell me what happened. With Tamar,” I said.

  “She called me, asking to make an appointment at Brisbane Castle.” He rubbed his chin absently. “Gave her name and everything. Said you were looking for a journal that I knew for a fact was tucked safely in your own room.” His green eyes met mine. “I had to come see what you were up to this time.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “We traced her call and cross-referenced the unidentified GPS coordinates from Christian’s Land Rover. We apprehended Tamar shortly thereafter.” He lifted his shoulder. “Let’s just say my colleagues convinced her to draw a map to your location.” His voice was bland, but I had an idea of the persuasive methods used on my former bodyguard.

  I sighed and leaned my head back on the pillows. My plan had worked. Sending Tamar to that number was the only thing I could think of that could have possibly alerted Nick’s Batman senses without alerting Tamar’s Spidey ones.

  When I had finished updating Nick on everything that happened before he and his team of commandos had raided the building, I realized something. At the end of all this, Anders still did not have the papers proving Big Gran’s embezzlement.

  When I pointed that out, Nick replied, “Well, at least you got your happy ending.” I couldn’t help but notice it didn’t feel happy. And that Nick didn’t look happy. Instead, his expression could only be called brooding.

  “Does your arm hurt?” I asked.

  He tried to shrug my question off but couldn’t quite hide his wince.

  So I made him lie down next to me in the narrow hospital bed. Both of us had things we needed to recover from.

  But I couldn’t stop my brain, even while lying there quietly with Nick. My thoughts circled and twisted until they finally reached their terminal destination.
<
br />   Drieden still was not safe from Christian Fraser-Campbell. Even if he was on the run, all he needed was a hacker as talented as Sybil and he could still get information to bring down the monarchy.

  “Nick,” I whispered to the large form that had draped itself around my side.

  “Yes?”

  “I need to do one more thing.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t know what it is.”

  “Unless it’s staying in a horizontal position, preferably under me, the answer is no.”

  “We can do that after I meet with Anders.”

  He groaned and sat up, then fixed me with a very stern glare.

  “I have to talk to him,” I insisted.

  “If you haven’t noticed, you’re in a hospital gown. In a hospital bed!” he snarled.

  “I’m the only one he’ll speak to.”

  Nick tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “And why is that?”

  “I’ll explain everything after you call and give him a message for me.”

  “No.” He gave me a look of frustration as I shook my head, a slow smile growing across my face. “What?”

  “Let’s make a deal.”

  forty

  ANDERS’S PARLIAMENT OFFICES WOULDN’T BE private. The palace wasn’t exactly neutral territory, either. So after much debate, Anders and I agreed to meet at a gazebo in the middle of the Jubilee Caterina Park, a beautifully manicured garden within walking distance of the Comtesse River. I didn’t doubt that Nick had escape routes plotted.

  We were joined by Max and a small crew of men in black, possibly the “colleagues” who had helped convince Tamar to reveal my location. I was allowed to dress in the same black weatherproof gear as Nick and the rest of his squad, as much for safety as for convenience. Nick personally strapped me into a Kevlar vest, grumbling the whole time about how much trouble I was.

  Even in tactical fabrics, we didn’t attract attention moving down the grass pathways to the prearranged meeting spot. Fifteen minutes after I sat where Nick had told me to sit, Pierre Anders joined me in the gazebo.