The Valiant

by Jillian Dodd

  The elevator dings, giving me a moment to contemplate what I'm about to say. Can I make a commitment to come home to him when I know I might not?

  Our first course is taken away, and the delicate truffle pasta takes its place along with a complementary wine.

  Once the staff has retreated, I say, "Yes, but on the flip side, I want you to consider the fact that you could be in this turret for a long time, waiting for someone who might never return."

  "Because she succumbed to the sea?"

  "Something like that."

  He lowers his head, looking solemn, as he pulls a small package out of his jacket pocket and sets it on the table in front of me. "I'm willing to risk my heart for you, Lee. Please, open it."

  I undo the ribbon and lift the lid, finding an etched gold heart hanging from a delicate chain.

  "May I?" he asks, taking the necklace and wrapping it around my neck.

  "What does it say? I was unable to make out the etching in the soft glow of the candlelight."

  "It is a love poem, written by me and engraved in my hand."

  "Which poem?"

  He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. I can see where they drew the heart and the words they copied onto the necklace in fragmented pieces.

  "This poem is one that I composed just for you."

  "As in you wrote me a poem--like, from scratch?"

  He nods his head and recites,

  "Glimmering waters beckon,

  Cliffs come into view.

  The ocean kisses the shoreline,

  As I dream of you."

  "That's beautiful, Lorenzo." I'm overcome with emotion and wonder how he put into words the essence that is this beautiful turret. "They are the most wonderful words I have ever heard. I love you."

  "As I love you," he replies with a kiss. He gives me a wicked grin. "It also has a GPS tracker in it, so while this turret will always be our special place, I will be able to know where you are when you're not by my side. But I suspect I will still be here, pacing and praying for your safe return."

  MISSION:DAY TWO

  There's something so wonderful about waking up in the arms of the person you love. It's pure, unadulterated bliss. And I'm not sure I deserve it. Committing to a serious relationship with Lorenzo feels so incredibly right, but at the same time, I know it could go so incredibly wrong.

  I feel like I'm trapped in the video game of my life, and if I make the wrong move, I'll be dead. I used to be okay about going Game Over, but that was back when my only goal was to kill my mother's assassin. I always figured I'd die trying, and I really never imagined what I'd do if I didn't. But becoming a princess--no, make that queen--is so completely foreign of a thought, I can barely wrap my head around it. It seems like a silly fantasy. A fairy tale. Something my life has never been. A princess is supposed to be a damsel in distress. She is supposed to be rescued by the handsome prince. My fairy tale--if it turns out to be like one and not some Shakespearean tragedy--will be the opposite. The princess who rescues her prince, who saves his country from evil, and then lives happily ever after.

  I chuckle to myself, knowing that I will probably die while trying to save him. As I run my hand through his thick, dark hair, a tear escapes as I realize that I'd do so willingly.

  I also don't know how Black X will react. I'll have to sell it as part of my mission. Part of my cover. Until I can get to the bottom of whatever mess my mother got into. Nothing like a ticking clock to add to the drama.

  "Good morning, my sweet," Lorenzo say, his lips lingering on my exposed shoulder. "Do you have time to dine with me this morning?"

  "Yes, my tour of the castle doesn't start until ten."

  His lips cross my shoulder and move up my neck. "But I've already given you a tour."

  "Not the public tour. When I got to Montrovia, the first thing I did was buy a ticket. It might have been because I'd done it before."

  Lorenzo props himself up, staring intently at me. "What do you mean?"

  "Yesterday, we went through the travel photos that were on my mother's locket from the trip we had taken before she was killed. I know I've been to the places in the photos, but I can't seem to recall many details. It's believed, if I go to each place, it will trigger the memories."

  "And how do you feel about that? Your brain has been trying hard not to remember."

  "I need to do it because some of the photos are missing. It's weird because things unexpectedly slip into my memory. Like I told Malcolm Prescott that I had been to Florence with my mom. It naturally came out, without thought. But that location was not included in the photos even though we had been to many places in Italy before."

  He smiles sweetly and caresses my cheek. I swear, his love is so fluid, I think I could bathe in it.

  "In that case, I would like to accompany you on your tour."

  "Um, I'd like to go by myself, if it's okay. I need to try to re-create it, and I highly doubt I got to meet you on the tour." I raise an eyebrow in his direction. "For, if I had, I never would have left."

  He lets out a laugh and then grabs the phone to order our meal. "I have no desire to let you leave this bed."

  "Trust me, I'd like to hide out here with you forever."

  "Forever? Does that mean the thought of marrying me is becoming more concrete?"

  "Lorenzo, if I weren't me, I'd marry you tomorrow."

  "But, darling, if you weren't you, I wouldn't want to marry you."

  "And I am worried it will end tragically for both of us."

  "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," Lorenzo says, quoting Alfred Lord Tennyson.

  "I agree, but you've shown me a paradise that I will probably burn down myself. I'm going to ask you this again. I want you to think about it logically, not with your heart. Do you think courting me is a good idea? You have so much on your shoulders. Running a country, continuing the bloodline. You need a woman who can devote her life to that."

  There is a light tap on the bedroom door, indicating that breakfast has arrived.

  "Saved by the bell," he says with a grin, getting out of bed and donning a silk robe.

  He picks up a charcoal cashmere robe from the end of the bed and holds it so that I can simply stand up and slide it on. It's sort of become my robe. I even discovered last night that I have my own toothbrush here, and surprisingly, it's not a plastic throwaway. It's gold, just like Lorenzo's, and distinguishable only by my engraved initials.

  While he heads out to inspect breakfast, I slip into the bathroom to pee.

  As I left the room, I caught a glimpse of a man in the mirror. A man whom I had seen earlier in the day.

  "We must go," my mother said. "Pretend to take ill."

  I dropped to the floor, as if I fainted, and felt that I was quickly surrounded by people. I didn't dare open my eyes when I was picked up and carried by strong arms down a set of stairs and into a quiet room.

  As soon as the door shut, my mother said, "Very good, Lee. You can open your eyes. We have to get out of here."

  "But why?"

  "A man is following us, and that is never safe for two women traveling alone." She carefully opened the door and peeked out.

  "I saw him this morning outside our hotel and again when we were in the Ponte Vecchio."

  She gave me a smile. "You missed seeing him at Basilica di San Lorenzo."

  "Dang it," I said, mad at myself for not noticing. But I was so enthralled by the Medici chapel that I stupidly forgot to take note of my surroundings.

  "You're in luck, my darling; your favorite chocolate croissants are on the menu!" Lorenzo yells from the other room.

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath, as my memory ends with a bullet to my mother's head.

  After a delightful breakfast, going over my plans for the day with Lorenzo, and so many kisses that I lost count, I leave the castle the way I entered--by sneaking through the tunnels and out to the docks. It's a glorious, clear day, and I half-wish Lorenzo
and I could say screw it, live in a bubble, and take his beautiful yacht that is just sitting idly in the harbor out to sea. We could have lunch, soak up the sun's rays, and worry about nothing but the way his lips feel on mine.

  I briefly consider it, but it's hard to be frivolous when you know the country of the man you love is in jeopardy.

  So, I go home, change, and meet up with my brother.

  "I'll allow you to accompany me on one condition: you don't speak to me."

  "Why not?" Ari challenges.

  "Because I had a flashback this morning, and as soon as Lorenzo said something, it was gone. If we're going to figure this out, follow me, if you must, but let me go where my memories take me without interruption."

  "Deal," he says, grabbing a set of keys and leading me to a new Range Rover.

  "Did you get a new car?" I ask him. "This doesn't seem flashy enough for you."

  "Yeah, well, this bitch is armored. Built by a German company that makes the most protected custom vehicles in the industry. It can take armor-piercing bullets and can handle six kilograms of TNT or three hand grenades. Not only are the doors armored, but so is the frame, firewall, and hinges. It has run flat tires and can even withstand the explosion of a DM32 anti-personnel mine under the floor with no injuries. After what I saw in London, I'm not driving anything else."

  We arrive at the castle, park with the visitors, and line up along with about forty others. We're given the option of a self-guided tour with headsets or a guided tour. I don't think, just step in the line for the guided tour. The self-guided group is allowed to enter a large ballroom while the six of us who went for this option are led around the corner.

  "My name is Katarina, and I'll be your guide for today. My job is to regale you with stories of the past. And you're in luck; the Hall of Kings has just been reopened after its refurbishing, and it is here that we will begin our tour--starting with Lorenzo the Magnificent." She points to a painting of a handsome man atop a horse. "The painting you see here was done by Botticelli, who thought Lorenzo to be so dashing that he often used him as a model.

  "Lorenzo's grandfather was one of the wealthiest men in Europe, and Lorenzo was raised in luxury and surrounded by art. He was given the land that is now Montrovia and became known as the Duke of Vallenta. Lorenzo arranged for his descendants to marry into royal families from all over Europe, keeping the bloodlines of nobility and allowing Montrovia to live without war since the fifteenth century. The hall is so ornate because, at one time, it led from the court of honor to the throne room. The living arrangements have changed a lot over the years, and now, the hall leads to the private areas of the castle."

  She moves us down the hall where large paintings of Lorenzo's various ancestors are featured, but something else catches my attention.

  "Is that the Medici family crest?"

  "Very good," she says to me, gesturing toward the inlay on the floor for the rest of the group, including my brother, who has been bringing up the rear and keeping his promise not to say anything. "This is the only place in the castle that I'm aware of where Lorenzo's family crest is displayed."

  She speaks to the group, "Many of you might recognize the Medici family crest with its unusual colorful spheres and fleur-de-lis. From Florence, Italy, the Medicis were the bankers of the Vatican, which gave them prestige and power. The story goes that, while Lorenzo wanted to respect his family, he was also very ambitious. He didn't want to be just the Duke of Vallenta. He wanted to be king. If Lorenzo the Magnificent were attempting this now, he'd be a social media star, meaning he was both a good leader and a marketer. He did everything he could to make this land feel like its own country, including creating a regal crest."

  The tour guide leads us out of the hall and into another room. "And you will see that crest throughout the rest of our tour, but it is prevalent here, in the throne room."

  My eyes widen. It's hard not to be impressed by a room like this.

  "Throughout history, the throne room of a monarch tended to be one of the most lavish in the castle. This is where they faced their public--whether in official ceremonies or granting audiences. The room is supported by massive blue marble pilasters, the wall coverings are made of the finest of silks, the moldings are gilded, and the massive chandelier is crystal. The blue, golden, and red colors used here match our country's flag and symbolize our maritime roots." She points to the actual throne. "Before King Giovanni passed, there were two thrones, one for the king and one for his queen. When Lorenzo Giovanni Baptiste Vallenta V was crowned king, the second throne was removed."

  "What will happen when he marries?" an older woman on the tour asks.

  "Then, a throne will be added for his queen. And when that happens," she says, dramatically opening a large set of French doors, "they will stand on this balcony and greet their countrymen. If you'd like to form a line, you can pretend to be royalty."

  The group starts taking turns standing on the balcony. The tour guide makes it fun by asking them to give a princess wave to the nonexistent crowd below.

  "Maybe, someday, you will be a princess," my mother said as we walked out onto the balcony.

  "That sounds boring," I replied.

  "Are you telling me you wouldn't like to live in a castle like this?"

  I glanced around. "It is very beautiful."

  "Oh, look!" our tour guide said excitedly from our perch. "There's Prince Lorenzo and Her Royal Highness down there in the rose garden."

  "Prince Lorenzo!" my mother yelled out, waving like a lunatic and causing me to cringe.

  The prince heard her shouts and turned toward the sound of his name.

  When he did, our eyes met, and we held our gaze. I couldn't take my eyes off him; he was so beautiful. Even at this distance, I could tell there is warmth and kindness in his eyes. I was rooted in my spot, too mesmerized to be embarrassed. After a few seconds, he broke our connection, waved to our group, and then continued with his mother into an area of the garden that was hidden from our view.

  "All right, let's make our way into the Great Hall," the tour guide says.

  But I'm stuck here like I was back then. Tears fill my eyes--not because I see my mother being shot, but because I can't believe that, when I first met Lorenzo, I couldn't remember the moment we'd shared years ago. But I do remember my heart pounding in my chest the same way it does now whenever Lorenzo is near.

  I feel a hand on the small of my back. Turning around and expecting to see Lorenzo, I find my brother instead. He doesn't say anything, just nods his head toward the door.

  We catch up to the group as our tour guide shows us an intricately designed navy-and-white marble floor, colorful tapestries set atop yellow marble walls, and Venetian glass chandeliers.

  "Next up is what we call the Velvet Room. Over three hundred meters of velvet-covered walls set atop a blue marble floor. The velvet was specially woven in India and depicts the Montrovian coat of arms, and you'll see it repeated in the moldings atop the room. Also of note is the large nautical compass with the royal crest inlaid with what appears to be pure gold but is rather gold gilding over wood. Earlier, we discussed how Lorenzo the Magnificent created his own crest. You can see it here in all its glory."

  "What does the crest mean?" Ari asks. "Like the symbolism of it?"

  "That's a great question," the tour guide says. "The gold background of the shield symbolizes generosity. His ambition is noted in his motto with the word regium--Latin for royalty. You will also see virtute and non vi, which roughly translate to virtue by glory, not force, and is probably why Lorenzo was so greatly adored by the people. He became king because he was worthy to rule in a time when rule was often taken by force. The other interesting thing to note is his choice of the prancing horses on the sides of the crest. They symbolize readiness for all employments for king and country, but most people joke that they symbolize our world-class polo team. For years, this was the king's bedroom."

  I wander around, trying to absorb every detail. There
's something important about this room. I find myself near the bed, glancing down at an engraved box on the nightstand.

  "And this symbol?" my mother asked.

  "What is this?" I ask our tour guide.

  "Oh," she says, "that is a replica based on a drawing found in the royal archives from Lorenzo the Magnificent's time. It's believed the box held his compass, for Lorenzo loved the sea."

  "Right, but what is this symbol on top of it?"

  The tour guide grins, like she hoped someone would ask this very question. "Legend has it that Lorenzo the Magnificent created a secret society. Lorenzo was a master statesman. Who his heirs wed was very strategic. If you married off your children to countries who might attempt to overtake you, it would lower the risk. Same goes for his supposed secret society. If you gathered a group of like-minded men in places of power, you could effectively control the world--or so Lorenzo thought.

  "Supposedly, that is the group's symbol. While some believe it survives even today, historians and symbolists suggest that this was simply his personal signet. It's believed that he took the five balls from the Medici crest and split them, symbolizing slashing the family ties. Over it, he placed bands in the form of a cross, defeating the circular or cyclical nature of the universe.

  "Throughout history, all great empires eventually fall. Scholars believe that Lorenzo hoped to defeat that cycle and maintain a long-standing, peaceful society. Others suggest that the cross is the simple pagan Sun Cross, which represents the four directions, an early compass of sorts, tying into his love of the sea."

  While I'm intrigued, the patience of the others seems to be wearing thin. Our tour guide notes this and moves on, eventually finishing the tour outside the chapel.

  "To your left is the gift shop, which offers trinkets as well as picnic lunches. You are free to dine in the garden behind the gift shop, which contains ruins of the original castle walls."

  "A picnic sounds lovely," my mother said. "You find us a good spot to sit, and I'll go buy us a basket."

  We ate in a comfortable silence, enjoying the view of the ocean.

  When we had finished, I asked her a question, "Why were you so interested in that symbol?"

  "Because the idea of secret societies intrigues me."