The Lion's Castle (The Lion Princes Book 1)

by Chase, Leslie

  "We have to go back! We have to help mom and dad!" Matt plucked at Rikard's arm as he spoke, but the old man shook his head.

  "You have to do as your mother told you," he said firmly. Roman only realized then that there were tears in his eyes. "They have their guards, they are of the blood of the lion, and they do not need to be worrying about you as they fight. Don't worry, I'm sure they will be fine — we must get you to safety."

  Even then, Roman knew he was lying. The old man had already given up hope, and he could see in his brothers' eyes that they knew it as well as he did. There were more gunshots from the chalet behind them, and shouts of pain — human shouts. Whatever was happening, the lions were giving their best. But it couldn't be good enough.

  Feeling torn between the urge to run back, to somehow help, and the desire to follow his mother's orders, Roman stumbled after Rikard in the darkness. It was too much to bear for a young boy, and he didn't know what to do.

  He nearly ran into Gabe's back as the other boy stopped dead in front of him. Ahead of them on the trail, a light moved.

  The tension in Rikard's back was obvious as he turned to crouch in front of the children. Keeping his voice low, he whispered to them.

  "You must be brave now, little princes," he said, looking each of them in the eye in turn. "Look after Sophie and make sure she gets home."

  "What about you?" Matt whispered back. "You can't leave us! And we won't leave you."

  The three boys nodded solemnly.

  "Ah, my prince, I wouldn't leave you for the world," the servant said, allowing a hint of sadness to leak into his voice. "Sometimes, though, we have no choice in what we do. I have a duty to perform, and so do you."

  With that, he stood and strode down the path towards the approaching light. Matt started to follow, but Roman grabbed his shoulder and hauled him backward, off the path and into the trees.

  "We have to do as he says," Roman hissed. It wasn't easy - he wanted to charge into the men who were approaching, to lash out and hurt them for the attack on his parents. But he knew he was just a cub, they all were. Even together, they wouldn't be able to fight off armed adults.

  And deep within, the three princes all knew that they couldn't risk their lives. Not when their father and uncle were both back at the chalet under attack. Both the King's sons, attacked together... Roman might be young, but they'd all heard enough stories about the old days when the nobles of Leotania tried to settle the succession by assassinating their way onto the throne.

  On the path, someone called out a challenge to Rikard. Peeking through the underbrush, Roman saw the old man nodding genially as he muttered something friendly-sounding and carried on towards the approaching men. One of them shouted, harsher now, and the children heard the sound of a gun's safety being clicked off. Rikard kept walking as though he hadn't heard a thing.

  "We have to go," Sophie said, tugging at the boys’ shoulders, and Roman knew she was right. Rikard was distracting the men, and buying the children time to escape. They had to use it, or his sacrifice would be in vain.

  Turning his back on the path, moving as quickly and quietly as they could, the three of them made their way into the mountains.

  Behind them, voices rose to shouting, anger carrying on the wind. Roman heard the sickening sound of metal thumping into flesh, followed by a pained groan. Then Rikard's voice rose again, hurting but still proud as he began to sing the national anthem.

  Roman tried to turn, his brothers grabbing him and pulling him back. The gunshot that ended Rikard's song echoed through the woods.

  * * *

  Roman jerked upright, gasping as he snapped out of the dream. For a moment he didn't know where he was or what was happening. He should be in the woods above the lake, he should be fighting his brothers and trying to go to Rikard's aid.

  "Sir? Are you alright?" The stewardess' voice was calming but concerned, and it gave him an anchor to focus on. Blinking, he came back to himself.

  He was on an airplane, thousands of feet up. Not in a forest hunted by gunmen. He fought to control his breathing, gripping the arms of his chair and squeezing his eyes shut.

  I haven't had that dream for years, he thought. I'd forgotten how bad it was.

  Opening his eyes again, he looked up at the stewardess with a reassuring smile.

  "I'm fine," he said. "It was just a nightmare, I'm sorry if I disturbed anyone."

  "No problem, sir," she said, smiling back. "Can I get you anything to help?"

  He shook his head, then thought better of it.

  "Coffee," he said. He really didn't want to slip back into sleep if he could help it. That nightmare had haunted him every night for years after the attack, and still sometimes came back to plague him. He'd never spoken about it with his brothers, they'd never needed to discuss it. Each of them had known the others woke, sweating and crying, in the darkness.

  The stewardess brought his coffee, and he managed to force himself to thank her before sinking back into his grim mood. Thinking about that night filled him with anger, even so many years later. Anger at the people who'd attacked them, anger at whoever had organized it, and anger he'd been too young to do anything about it. He didn’t know much about what followed, but he remembered his Grandfather's rages. The loss of his sons had affected the king, leaving him storming around the castle in a fury that couldn't be sated. Fear reigned amongst the servants, both fear of the rebels and fear of their king. It had been terrifying for the three princes to leave, sent to America to be raised in safety, but it had also been a relief to get away from the castle and the uncertainty.

  From what he'd heard later, the King cracked down on anyone who might have had a hand in the attack that killed both his sons. But Roman had no idea if they'd actually managed to get the bastards responsible. The whole matter was something no one could raise with the King, not even his family, without making the old lion so angry that he would descend into incoherent shouting.

  The worst part of it was that the bodies hadn't all been found. Roman's uncle Augustus, the King's younger son, vanished and the King drove himself to distraction wondering what the killers might have done with him.

  Finally, I can get some answers, he told himself. Perhaps now I can find out what happened to my family.

  6

  Anna had mostly collected herself by the time she stepped off the plane. She was focused on her task, certain that she could keep her mind clear and on the business at hand. The distraction of the flight was behind her now.

  That lasted until she set foot on the tarmac and saw Roman waiting. Not so close as to crowd her, but close enough to meet her eyes. The invitation was clear, along with his desire for her, and Anna couldn't help the way her body responded to that. The memory of the kiss was suddenly back in her mind, and she couldn't think straight. Her heart pounded, and she felt an electric tingle of desire before she broke eye contact. Half of her wanted to run to him, the other half wanted to hide.

  At least he's not pushing himself on me, she thought.

  It might have been easier if he had - then she could dismiss him as an asshole, and maybe then she wouldn't be feeling so conflicted. Instead, he was behaving like a gentleman, giving her space to think but not abandoning her. Making it clear that he was there if she wanted him.

  His confidence that she would want him was obvious — and irritating. The fact that he was right only made it worse.

  As soon as they started moving, Anna fumbled out her phone, switching it out of airplane mode and sending a quick text with the agreed upon code to let her father know that Roman was on the ground again. The response was instant, but equally vague, just a coded acknowledgment of her message. Nothing personal to her at all.

  At least I've done my duty. It was a cold comfort, and she started to regret it immediately. She might not know the details of what her father was planning, but she knew it wasn't good for Roman. And now that she'd met the man, she couldn't bring herself to believe that he deserved it.
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br />   In the arrivals hall the passengers from the flight descended on the baggage carousel, crowding around it. Anna found herself at the back of the group, unable to get past to her bag as the other passengers pushed and shoved. Trying to get into the press of people, she found herself pushed back, and resigned herself to being the last to get her bag. Her sore ankle still twinged and she grimaced. It was going to be a long wait standing on her sore leg.

  Roman didn’t let it come to that. One look at her annoyance, and he was pushing into the crowd to grab her bag from the conveyor before turning to her with a grin. Looking up at him, she realized that she had no idea what to say.

  "Come on," he laughed after a pause. "You can't deny me the chance to carry your bag like a gentleman should. I promise I don't think it puts any obligation on you."

  She smiled weakly, shaking her head. Maybe I should protest, she thought, but it's sweet of him, and I don't know why I'd say no. Plus it's an excuse to stay close, I guess.

  That last was a complicated thought. She wanted to be near him, that much she couldn't deny. But she couldn't bear to think about what would happen beyond that, what her father was planning to do and what she was helping with. Gritting her teeth, she nodded. If someone saw her with him, well, she'd have to explain what happened to her father somehow anyway. And it gave her more time to think about her dilemma. Fine. He can be a gentleman and carry my bag out. And that's the end of it.

  He led her out through customs and into the airport itself. It was like something from the 60s, old and big and open. Everywhere she looked, she saw portraits of the old king, draped in black. A big show of mourning for the tyrant, she thought, glancing aside at Roman. He stopped for just a moment before walking on as though it was nothing, but Anna knew that the pictures hit him harder than he was letting on. Good as he was at hiding his feelings, he couldn't hide them from her.

  I can't imagine what it must be like for him to walk in here and see his grandfather's picture everywhere, she thought, shaking her head and fighting off the urge to take his arm, to comfort him. The old king might have been a monster, but he'd still been family to Roman.

  There were a few people waiting on other passengers of their plane, but no one to meet either Roman or herself. Anna felt her face tighten at that. No one from her family here to meet her? That just smacked of disrespect.

  Roman didn't look like he was expecting to see anyone, though. That surprised Anna, she'd been sure he'd be met by servants or a chauffeur or something appropriately royal. That he'd leave alone hadn't occurred to her.

  "Where are you headed?" he asked her, pausing in the arrivals lounge.

  "I guess I get a shuttle bus into town," she said dubiously. The airport wasn't far from the edge of the capital, after all.

  "Don't be silly," he said. "I'll drive you. And since you clearly don't have any immediate plans, I'll take you to dinner first."

  I can't do that, she told herself firmly. No. I'm not going to spend any longer with him than I have to. Not happening.

  "That sounds lovely," she heard herself say. Damn it.

  She couldn't quite believe what she was doing as she followed him through the airport following signs for the parking lot. Again, she wondered if he'd cast some kind of spell on her. But that still didn't feel right. She might not know anything about magic, didn't even know if there was any such thing, but she knew instinctively that what she felt for him couldn't be fake. She really did want to go to dinner with this man, and it wasn't because of some compulsion. It was just him.

  Before she could puzzle out her feelings further, her phone buzzed. A glance showed her a message from her father, another coded phrase asking where the target was going. Her jaw tightened; it was hard enough to think of Roman as the enemy after the time on the flight, and trying to think of him as a 'target' rather than a person rubbed her the wrong way.

  Her response was terse: In parking. Picking up car. Traveling to city soon.

  Maybe that's why they weren't here to meet me, she thought. So that I could follow him discretely and see how he leaves the airport? That made sense, but the lack of attention still stung a little. She'd expected other agents of the resistance to take up following Roman once he arrived, and just being left to carry on wasn't pleasant. It was as though she were an afterthought, not at all important to her father or the rest of the resistance.

  The parking structure was dark and empty, and she shivered slightly as they walked through it. There were only a few cars parked there now, and the large space echoed with their footsteps. It didn't feel like a safe space to walk through, but ironically Roman at her side made her feel safer. Anna felt that she could trust him to be a gentleman, and to protect her from harm.

  That made her dilemma more and more confusing.

  Roman lead her to a level that was almost entirely empty. There was one van parked at the far end of the structure, almost disappearing into the shadows. And there was a sports car parked much closer, a sleek black piece of beautiful engineering that even at rest seemed to be on the verge of speeding off into the distance.

  Definitely Roman's, Anna thought, and couldn't help smiling. The fast machine suited him, though it looked a little showy. She was turning to ask him how he'd arranged for it to be waiting there when she saw the figure behind it.

  He was hidden in the shadows behind the sports car, almost invisible, dressed in black form-fitting clothing. Anna almost missed him, and would have if there hadn't been the faintest glimmer of light reflecting from the pistol in his hands as he raised it fractionally above the body of the car.

  "Watch out!" The warning was out of her mouth before she'd thought about it, and she was moving, leaping at Roman and knocking him aside. The breath whooshed out of him at the impact, and they tumbled down to the concrete floor as the gun fired.

  Anna learned to shoot from her father. He'd insisted that the whole family know how to use guns, and she'd practiced with a silenced pistol a few times. She recognized the muffled clack of a suppressed shot, the smack of the bullet striking the concrete behind them. Hearing it in the real world was different. Scary and surreal at the same time, and she couldn't think of what she should do. Roman started to say something, she never knew what, and then a second shot smacked into the floor beside his head.

  His reaction was instant. Grabbing her, Roman pulled himself up and threw her towards one of the pillars supporting the roof. Anna struck the floor heavily, pain shooting through her shoulder as she tumbled into cover, shocked that his first thought was for her safety. Doesn't he know that they're shooting at him?!

  That we're shooting at him, she corrected herself, realizing that she'd instinctively taken a side. The wrong side. Oh crap, what have I done?

  But she couldn't blame herself for it. Letting him walk into the trap would have been awful. It was easy to hate a tyrant she didn't know, but Roman wasn't anything like the man she'd been told to expect. It was hard to see him as a tyrant at all, and certainly not as the spawn of Satan. He didn't deserve to be executed like this.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by another shot smacking into the concrete, and then a roar which shook the building. Anna paled at the blood-freezing sound, fighting down a scream of fear, and then peered around the pillar.

  She couldn’t believe what she saw.

  * * *

  The warning had come just in time. Roman felt the bullet slice through the air next him as Anna pushed him down, and rolled with the impact. The second bullet was too close for comfort, and he knew he needed to get her to safety.

  He wasn't sure how he knew, but his lion was certain — this had something to do with Anna. So his first priority was to get her out of the line of fire, and only then did he look for their attacker.

  Who would dare do this, a strangely calm part of him wondered as he felt outrage fill him and the lion in his soul. Whoever it was, he didn't intend to give them a chance to hurt his mate.

  Roman had faced gunmen before more often than he'd
liked. Construction work in war-torn countries attracted bandits and warlords like flies to honey, and Roman's had never backed down from one yet. That had given him all the experience he needed with gunfights. He knew better than to stay still and let his enemy have a clean shot at him, but he put Anna behind the only nearby cover. If he didn't want to draw fire to her, that only left him one option.

  He dove towards the car, shifting as he went and feeling another bullet pass overhead. His forepaws struck the concrete and he bounded forward, a mighty predator bearing down on his prey. The assassin stood up, working the slide on his pistol, and Roman had time to be glad he'd chosen a silenced gun — it might not draw the airport security, but it took longer between shots, and that gave him the break he needed.

  Leaping over the car, he lashed out with his claws, catching the gunman's arm just as he pulled the trigger. The gun went flying, tumbling into the darkness, and a line of fiery pain tore down Roman's flank. The last shot nearly missed, but not quite, and the pain of the impact told him more about who he was up against. Silver, he thought with disgust. That means they know who they are hunting.

  That was all he had time for before he and the gunman fell to the ground. The man cursed, fear in his voice, and his hand scrabbled at his belt for another weapon. Roman wasn't about to give him the chance to find it, and pressed his mighty paw down with the full weight of an adult lion on it. He trapped the assassin's arm against his body, pinning him helpless to the floor.

  He had a moment to look at the would-be killer. A broad-shouldered man, dressed all in black, face covered with a balaclava and weapons neatly stowed — he looked like he knew what he was doing, and had some training. If it hadn't been for Anna's warning, that first shot would have taken Roman's head off.

  Snarling, he lowered his jaws to the man's head. Well, he won't get another chance, Roman thought, preparing to bite down and finish this.