Princess in Peril

by Rachelle Mccalla

  “Yes.” He spoke in the most soothing voice he could muster. “Yes, Lydia is ruled by your family, by the Royal House of Lydia.”

  “I am not dead,” she choked.

  He realized she was weeping. He didn’t blame her one bit. “You’re not dead,” he repeated, trying to think of what he could possibly say that wouldn’t make her more upset. What was there to say? It was likely the rest of her family had been killed. She had surely guessed that much already. As soon as the insurgent forces realized she had escaped, they’d come looking for her. But he couldn’t tell her that—not now—so he tried to reassure her as best he could.

  “You’re not dead, Princess. You’re alive, and I will do everything in my power to keep you alive. But right now we don’t know what the situation is out there. If the insurgents have taken control of the city—”

  “No!” Isabelle moved to push past him again. “No, they cannot take the city.” She turned as though she was going to stomp right up the stairs and demand to have rule returned to her.

  “Isabelle.” He pulled her back against him and this time held her tight so she couldn’t do anything rash. He pressed his mouth near her ear as he had in the car and spoke calmly but forcefully. “The insurgents want you dead. As long as they think they have already killed you, they won’t come looking for you. If they learn you’re really alive, they’ll hunt you down. Your only hope for survival is to stay out of sight and get out of Lydia as quickly as possible—before they have time to search for your dead body and wonder why they can’t find it.”

  “But the Royal House of Lydia has never given over control of the country. It is my royal duty—”

  “It’s your duty to stay alive.” As he held her tightly, he felt some of the fight leave her. “You can’t reclaim the throne if you’re dead. If you let me get you out of here, we can negotiate your rightful return to the throne.”

  “How can I run from my people like a coward?”

  “Your only other option is to face near-certain death. Who will defend your people then?”

  He felt her war with that decision as he held her, his arms still firmly rooting her in place lest she suddenly take off up the stairs.

  Finally she told him in a determined voice, “I still don’t trust you.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you trust me. All I ask is that you allow me to protect you.”

  A huff erupted from her nose, and her chin lifted off from where it had come to rest on his shoulder. “Have I made it that difficult for you?”

  “You did seem determined to stay in the car long enough for the insurgents to hit it.”

  “If you would have told me about the catacombs earlier—”

  “I didn’t know you didn’t know,” he defended. He relaxed his hold enough to let her move half an arm’s length away but no farther. He still didn’t trust her any more than she trusted him. “There may be moments up ahead when I don’t have time to explain everything. Whether you trust me or not, you need to follow my lead. If I have to stop and argue with you at every turn, it will give the insurgents an unfair advantage. I fear we must move very quickly.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell under his hands as she took a deep breath. “Up the stairs in darkness, through the cathedral and then what?”

  “The U.S. Embassy is across the street. They should be able to help us get out of the country.”

  Isabelle was silent. Levi could tell she was weighing her response. Based on the background information he’d been given, he could guess at what might be the cause of her silence.

  “I know you don’t care for the American ambassador,” Levi began.

  “Stephanos Valli remains in this country solely to retain the good will of the American government. If it were up to me, he would never be allowed to set foot in Lydia again.” Her words seethed with barely repressed anger.

  “We need the Americans to help us get you out of the country alive. If Valli was headed to the state dinner, it’s likely he won’t be anywhere near the embassy. His staff can get us out of the country.” Levi had never met Stephanos Valli, but he understood that the American ambassador had Lydian ancestry and ties to the most powerful people in their area of the Mediterranean. Valli had negotiated the engagement of the princess to one of those people, a billionaire businessman named Tyrone Spiteri. The engagement had ended in scandal. Levi had never been told the details, but he understood Isabelle’s bitterness toward the ambassador for his hand in such an embarrassing experience.

  And Isabelle obviously wasn’t ready to risk an encounter with Valli, though it had been two years since her engagement to Tyrone Spiteri had ended. “I have many friends who could possibly help us,” she suggested.

  “Do you know them better than you knew Alfred?”

  She tensed, and Levi could feel her head shaking regretfully in the darkness.

  “I suppose,” she whispered softly, “we can’t trust anyone because we can’t be sure of whose side they’re on.”

  “The Americans should be trustworthy.”

  “Perhaps.” For a moment she sounded overwhelmed, but she seemed to draw quickly from that royal well of strength. “Let’s get moving then. I still intend to find a first aid kit if we can.”

  Levi was impressed with how quickly she made up her mind and how silently she made her way up the stairs. He counted seven, eight, nine steps before his head knocked into something solid.

  “Stop,” he whispered quietly as a breath while moving to shield her head.

  His burned fingers were momentarily squeezed between her high-piled hair and the obstruction. Tears sprang to his eyes but he stifled an exclamation. Finding her ear beside him, he whispered, “There’s an obstruction above us. It may be a trap door. I’m going to try to lift up.”

  He eased his shoulders up against it, but even when he began to apply greater force, nothing budged.

  “Does it have a latch of some sort?” Isabelle whispered back. He could feel her hands skirt past him in the darkness, and a moment later he heard a soft click. “Try it now,” she whispered.

  This time when Levi applied pressure upward, the ceiling moved silently, though the space above seemed to be just as dark as the tunnel they’d come from. With only a slight rustle from her evening gown, Isabelle slid through the opening, and Levi followed after her, closing the door softly after they were both out.

  Isabelle’s hand traveled up his arm, and he felt her fingers tug on his earlobe. At her prompt he leaned down and she whispered silently into his ear. “Should I try my light?”

  Feeling for her hands, he covered the light, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

  The light came on and slowly he allowed more of its miniscule glow to shine. The two of them looked around at the statues and marble plaques, their blank-eyed stone faces deeply shadowed.

  Isabelle shivered at the sight of the stone faces, whose forms hid the ancient bones of her ancestors. “The mausoleum,” she whispered. They’d toured it once when she was very young, but no one had been buried under the cathedral in several generations, so she’d had no cause to visit it again. Her sole impression was that it was a frightening place cluttered with dead upon dead, which seemed to go on forever.

  But then, she’d been only about eight years old when she’d made that tour. Surely it wouldn’t be so frightening now that she was twenty-four.

  Her light dimmed, and she snapped the phone shut again. Although complete darkness shrouded everything from her sight, she was acutely aware of the looming stone figures and tried not to imagine their blank eyes staring back at her through the darkness. She had to remember that the insurgent threat against her was far more real than her fears of the dark and the dead.

  “Do you know your way around in here?” Levi asked in a hushed whisper.

  “No. Do you?”

  “I’ve never been down here before.”

  “I visited once, but it was a long time ago. All I really remember is … “ The memories stumbled through her mind, tri
pping over themselves like the patent-leather shoes she and her sister had worn as they traveled hand-in-hand through the tour, nearly running in the end, chased by fear, wanting only to find the sunlight. She stepped instinctively closer to Levi, the only human figure in the room who lived and breathed. “I didn’t like it.”

  “Do you know which way we should go?”

  Isabelle searched the long-buried memory, sorting through the fright to find some tidbit that could help them. “We came in through the back of the church and came out at the front. The mausoleum runs the length of the cathedral, with family crypts branching off on either side.” She pulled his tuxedo jacket more tightly around her. “Most of these bones are more than a thousand years old. No was has been buried here in generations.”

  “So we should try to find the central hallway?”

  “That much shouldn’t be difficult. Then we go one way or the other. The trick will be not to get sidetracked, or we could end up wandering around here—” Her voice broke off as she heard a distant boom, the first sound to penetrate the deathly stillness.

  “The trick will be to avoid detection.” Levi’s words were spoken in a near-silent breath by her ear.

  Isabelle also tensed, listening to the sound Levi had obviously heard. Distantly, echoes reverberated through the still air. Footsteps? And muffled voices.

  “Search every corner.” The command rose above the sound of footsteps—many sets of footsteps. Someone was in the mausoleum looking for them!

  Isabelle grabbed Levi’s arm and whispered, “What are we going to do now?”

  “The footsteps are all coming from the same direction. We need to run the other way.”

  Isabelle raised her hand to open her phone again and light their way, but Levi’s fingers quickly closed over hers.

  “No. No light.”

  “I can’t see where I’m going.” Isabelle protested in near-silence as Levi tugged her along beside him.

  “No light,” Levi repeated. “It will lead them straight to us.”

  They shuffled forward, and Isabelle couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t leaving a trail of footprints for their pursuers to follow. But tourist groups went through the mausoleum several times a week, if not several times a day. Hopefully their footprints would blend in.

  For a few moments they bumped along in darkness, here and again meeting the rounded sides of cold stone statues or the walls themselves. Then Isabelle’s peering eyes were shocked as the bulbs that ran along the central hallway illuminated.

  “They’ve turned the lights on,” she whispered softly, her words nearly drowned by the echoes of boots on stone floor and the muffled shouts of the approaching men.

  Because the branching crypts weren’t lighted, she turned toward the light of the central hallway.

  Levi pulled back on her arm. “They’ll see you.”

  “But we’re sitting ducks in here. There’s no way out of this chamber unless we get to the main hallway.”

  Already the boom of footsteps pounded closer. She didn’t know how thoroughly the men were searching the sprawling chambers, but they were closing in on them.

  “We’ll have to hide.”

  Isabelle looked around. The life-size statues were almost big enough to hide behind.

  Almost.

  “Where?”

  Levi’s fingers grasped the edge of one of the many marble slabs that rested on the raised ledges of the burial chambers. Isabelle watched as he slid back the solid stone slab.

  “In here.”

  The boom of footsteps echoed nearer.

  “No.” Isabelle shook her head. “Not with the bones.”

  Levi pulled an object from the vault. “They’re not bones.” He held out an ancient piece of wood for her to see.

  “It’s a shuttle,” Isabelle realized. She recalled from her long-ago tour that the burial chambers were interspersed with vaults containing items important to the deceased. Since weaving and textile work had long been the basis for the Lydian economy, many weavers treasured their looms and shuttles—even to the point of being buried with the objects that had been an integral part of their livelihood.

  Realizing the chamber Levi had opened didn’t hold any bones, she relented to hiding inside. Levi guided her feet-first through the opening.

  “Hurry!” he encouraged her as the echoing footfalls drew closer.

  “Did you hear that?” A deep voice echoed down the corridor.

  “This way!”

  The boom of boots on stone grew louder and faster as the men hurried toward them.

  With a repentant gulp, Isabelle ducked into the hole, regretting that her hesitation had wasted precious seconds.

  “Up ahead!” the men’s voices called, nearer this time. Almost upon them.

  Isabelle shuffled her head around so she could look out of the opening. Levi’s face flashed across her line of vision. “Are you coming in?” she whispered.

  “No time,” he mouthed, shoving the stone slab nearly shut, leaving her with just a slice of light before he spun around.

  THREE

  Levi ducked instinctively as the bullet ricocheted through the stone chamber. He gripped the shuttle he’d pulled from the chamber, its ancient wood petrified with age. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it in the enclosed space it would be far more useful to him than the gun in his holster.

  “Don’t discharge your weapons inside the mausoleum!” The commanding voice Levi had heard earlier now sounded like it was just around the next corner. “The bullets could bounce back and hit one of us.”

  The sound of footsteps drew nearer and flashlight beams danced through the relative darkness of the side chamber. Levi leapt back, hiding in the shadow of a large statue nearest the opening of the chamber on the side from which the voices approached.

  He gripped the shuttle as the footsteps boomed nearer.

  The instant a shadow fell across the opening Levi leapt forward and struck with the petrified rod. The man crumpled to the floor with a hollow groan.

  “What—” The next soldier stepped forward, and Levi hit him, a glancing blow across the back of the head, which appeared to stun him only slightly. He grimaced and gathered himself, but Levi caught him under the jaw with his other fist. He slumped over his fallen comrade.

  Two down. How many more to go?

  With a shout, another solider leapt over the two unconscious figures. Levi swung with the shuttle, but the man’s hand clamped his wrist. A high round kick cleared the two motionless men below them. He caught his attacker under the ribs.

  He heard the air rush from the man’s lungs as the soldier leaned forward, his grip easing on Levi’s wrist.

  Jerking his arm free, Levi caught the man in the back of his head before he straightened.

  Just in time.

  The soldier went down as another leaped forward. At the rate he was going, Levi would soon have the entrance to the side chamber blocked by the unconscious bodies of his attackers. This soldier’s feet hadn’t yet hit the floor when Levi caught him under the chin with a grunt, with the same motion heaving his body onto the growing pile.

  He panted, trying to catch his breath. His singed hands stung. How many more soldiers were there? How many more could he hold off?

  The crackle of a radio told him someone was about to give away his position.

  Vaulting the heap of men, Levi knocked the radio from the man’s hand before the soldier could call in reinforcements. Grabbing his head by the helmet, Levi rammed the man face-first into his knee.

  Three soldiers were still standing.

  The nearest one spun sideways, clipping Levi in a blow to the chest.

  Levi grasped the shuttle with both hands and brought it down on the man’s head.

  The soldier shuddered and went down.

  “Alec?” The next guy looked at him in confusion.

  Levi didn’t recognize the young man. “Sorry,” Levi apologized as he slugged the soldier across the jaw.

  Befor
e he had time to pull his arm back, the next man was on top of him, knocking him flat. Levi just managed to catch himself enough to avoid hitting his head too hard against the stone floor, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blow aimed at the side of his head.

  Stars flashed across his field of vision, obliterating all else. Levi shoved back, trying to push the man off of him, to roll sideways, anything. But he was exhausted from what had already been a long fight against overwhelming odds, and this attacker was enormous.

  The man on top of him had every advantage.

  Levi braced himself and prayed.

  Suddenly the man shuddered, falling on top of him.

  With a whoosh, the weight of the oversize soldier knocked what remained of Levi’s breath from his lungs.

  He groaned as he attempted to heave the deadweight figure off of him.

  A small, neatly manicured hand appeared, hefting the man by the shoulder, adding just enough lift to allow Levi to push the man off to the side. As his vision cleared, Levi looked up to find Princess Isabelle smiling down at him.

  “How did you—?” he started to ask.

  She held up another shuttle like a royal scepter. “There were two of these.”

  Levi moaned and sat up. “But how did you get the stone rolled back from the inside?”

  Motioning with the shuttle, Isabelle imitated how she’d levered the shuttle through the opening to move back the stone. “Simple tools,” she said, glancing back at the heap of men behind her as a groan rumbled from the bottom of the pile. “We should get out of here.”

  “Sure.” Levi leapt up and, with a quick kick in the direction from which the groan had come, muttered, “That should keep him quiet.” He plucked up the radio that had flown free when he’d knocked out the man who was trying to use it. “Let’s go before anyone else realizes what just happened.”