Royal Replicas 2: Royal Captives

by Michael Pierce

  “With pleasure, Your Highness,” Duke Hendrix said.

  “Is there anything you don’t want to be left behind?” I asked.

  Princess Amelia turned her chair in a half circle, scanning the room. Besides her reading table, phonograph, a collection of records, and the medical machinery lined along one wall, the room was relatively bare.

  “Not besides my books and records,” she said.

  “I’ll get you new books. I promise.”

  “Is there anything I can help with?” asked the familiar voice.

  I spun around to find Prince Byron standing in the doorway.

  “Are you supposed to be here?” Duke Hendrix asked, glaring at the Prince, and then eyeing me suspiciously.

  “If he’s willing to help, then the Prince is more than welcome to,” I said.

  “I don’t believe everyone in the party will agree with you,” Duke Hendrix said.

  I walked up to Prince Byron and threw my arms around him. I was still upset he left the camp without saying goodbye, but so thankful he’d saved Mina.

  “We’ll see,” Duke Hendrix said and disappeared into the washroom.

  I released the Prince from my embrace and gazed up into his smoky eyes. I knew now was not the time to get into a long discussion of everything that had happened in the past day, so I simply said, “It’s good to see you.”

  Prince Byron smiled. “It’s good to be seen.” Then he looked past me, his eyes falling upon Princess Amelia. “Your Highness, I’ve always dreamt of meeting you. I never truly believed I’d get the chance.”

  Princess Amelia gave me a questioning look, so I chimed in. “This is Prince Byron of Easteria.”

  “Oh…” The brightness in her eyes returned. “You’re the prince Mother’s been talking about. I wondered when she’d allow you to visit me.”

  “Well, I’m here now.” Prince Byron walked up and took one of her shaking hands in his, bringing it gently to his lips. “Now let’s get you to safety.”

  Duke Hendrix emerged from the washroom with a fold-up wheelchair and instructed the Prince to help him move Princess Amelia from the motorized chair to this less cumbersome one. Once she was seated and positioned, Duke Hendrix ripped the comforter off the bed and placed it on her lap.

  I ventured over to Princess Amelia’s closet to see what shoes she had. I’d made it this far in heels, but counted that as simply lucky; I hoped I wouldn’t have to push that luck moving forward and was fortunate enough to find a tan pair of worn flats I knew would fit like my very own. I exchanged my heels for the flats, now ready to go.

  I insisted on pushing Princess Amelia and wheeled her out of the room, following Duke Hendrix and Prince Byron. As soon as we reached the corridor, I noticed Duke Mackenzie and Robert quickly approaching.

  “You have a lot of nerve coming down here,” Duke Mackenzie said, his tone full of malice. The sledgehammer held at his side only emphasized his intensity.

  “You left me little choice,” Prince Byron said, seemingly unintimidated by the quickly approaching Duke.

  Duke Mackenzie wasn’t slowing down and looked like he would charge right into the Prince. “And you leave me no choice,” Duke Mackenzie spat. His right fist flew up and slammed into the Prince’s left cheek, brutally knocking him to the ground.

  34

  Byron

  I’ve taken a number of punches before and I thought I could take his and remain on my feet. Mackenzie’s punch was more powerful than I’d anticipated. The pain was immediate, as was the taste of blood. Luckily, I didn’t black out.

  Victoria ran to my aid, throwing herself between Mackenzie and me. “Stop it!” she yelled.

  Mackenzie didn’t force her out of the way. Instead, he stepped aside and pointed the head of the sledgehammer at me. “You have no idea how much I want to bash your head in with this.” Then he turned his attention to Victoria. “But I won’t—at least not today. We have work to do. The door’s been made for our escape. Let’s try not to attract any more attention.”

  Mackenzie threw the sledgehammer over his shoulder like a well-dressed lumberjack and led the way down the hall.

  Victoria dropped to her knees beside me, her face a mixture of horror and concern. “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”

  I wanted to spit out some of the blood pooling in my mouth, but I gazed into her eyes and swallowed it. I felt my cheek, then assessed my jaw. Though the entire side of my face hurt like hell, I didn’t seem to have any loose teeth.

  “I’ll survive,” I said, then added more quietly, “It was worth it.”

  Mackenzie stopped and turned. “He’s not coming with us. Let’s get a move on, princess.”

  The other two men—neither of whom I knew—were already following, one of them taking over the pushing of Princess Amelia’s wheelchair.

  “Go,” I told Victoria. “Save the Princess. You don’t need me—you never did.”

  “I don’t want to leave you like this,” she said.

  “Like what? I’m fine,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll make sure no one’s following you. At least I can feel like I’m doing something. I will never stand idly by again.” I pulled her into a hug, wanting to kiss her, but not knowing how she’d react to my advance—or my bloodied face.

  Victoria held me tightly and to my surprise when we parted, she pushed up and kissed me. In that moment, it felt like everything that had happened since the Choosing Ceremony had been erased, even though I knew it wasn’t true. To have her in my arms again alleviated all my pain. She was a truly intoxicating elixir, of which I only wanted more.

  When our lips parted, she said, “I’ve missed you.” Then she glanced back just as the rest of her group turned into a room down the hall.

  “You need to go,” I said. “They won’t wait. I want you, but the Princess needs you right now.”

  Victoria gave a shy smile. There was some of my blood on her lips. I took a pocket square from my suit coat and wiped her lips clean. This only made her smile more. That smile… it would be the death of me.

  Just as she started to leave, my head cleared enough to remember what I was holding for her. I reached into my pocket and handed her the flash drive. Her face scrunched up in confusion. She seemed to have no reference for what the small drive was.

  “It’s all the evidence needed to give to the Queen,” I said. “Kale assured me everything is on here. Don’t give it to anyone else. And don’t let it out of your sight.”

  “He showed this to his father, but wouldn’t give it to him. It seems he trusts you more,” Victoria said, taking the flash drive, gripping it tightly.

  “It seems so,” I said with a shrug. “Now go. Be safe.”

  “You too.” She leaned in to kiss me one more time before running after Princess Amelia.

  It took a minute after she’d disappeared into the room, before I regained enough of my faculties to move from the spot. I knew how much she had been hurt by me. It hadn’t been my intention, but intentions meant little when it came to trust. Although—what she’d displayed on this day gave me a glimmer of hope for us; she had not completely given up on me.

  I peered into the room from which the group had made their escape and saw the hole Mackenzie had made in the wall, allowing them passage to a previously inaccessible part of the floor. There’d been no attempt to hide their escape route and several demolition tools were strewn about the floor.

  I closed the door and paced a small section of the hallway, checking in on each construction crew as I passed. No one had paid any attention to the escape. No one was following them. All they had to do was continue their course. I had every faith they’d make it. Victoria was self-reliant and strong; she’d get the Princess to a safe location and then return to confront the Queen. Everything was in place to get the other girls out of the palace, then I’d secure their travel arrangements to Easteria, along with Gabriel’s. Even with the war going on, that would be the safest place for all of them.

  I bounded
upstairs to find Bethany and give her the good news.

  35

  Victoria

  I raced after Duke Mackenzie and the others, first through the hole he’d made in the wall and then down a new corridor. I couldn’t hear them over pockets of construction I was passing and now started to fear I was headed in the wrong direction. It was too easy to make a wrong turn down there.

  The dusty air due to the construction created a fog slithering through the air. It was hard to be sure what I was seeing anymore; the dust fog covered their escape too well.

  I skidded around corners and frantically hastened my search with each passing room.

  I noticed all the workers now wore masks as they worked and I lifted the neckline of my dress to cover my nose and keep from breathing in whatever poisons lingered in the air.

  They’re pushing a wheelchair! They can’t be that far ahead.

  But they might not have been ahead of me at all; they could have been headed in a different direction entirely, in which case I was getting farther away with each labored step.

  The thick air, along with panic beginning to settle in, was making it difficult to breathe. I slowed with the realization of what this could mean. I was beginning to think it wiser to return to the main level of the palace and find Prince Byron.

  But then I heard what I could only describe as an explosion, which stopped me cold in my tracks.

  Amelia!

  It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to be running toward the deafening sound, but I found myself doing it anyway. If Princess Amelia was hurt, I had to do what I could to help. I had been getting nowhere on my own; the explosion was the beckoning I needed to find my way.

  When I reached the destruction, a mob of construction workers was already sifting through the wreckage. The corridor—through a closet opening—was filled with debris, making passage presently impossible. Some of the workers were noticing me now, and I had no idea what was going through their heads.

  “This is a restricted area,” one guy said, his voice muffled from his dust mask.

  “What are you doing down here?” another asked, his voice no clearer.

  Another man was on a walkie-talkie, his mask hanging around his neck, asking for assistance with the situation. More men would be descending upon this place.

  And then I saw a flash of twisted metal sticking out from underneath the wreckage. It became obvious very quickly that it was the mangled remains of a wheelchair—Princess Amelia’s wheelchair!

  “Yeah, it’s definitely one of them.”

  I moved closer, even though I was intruding on the workspace of those actively trying to clear the corridor. I dreaded the discovery of her body trapped beneath the rubble as well. There were no cries for help, which was yet more unsettling. But I also didn’t notice any blood.

  “We’ll keep it here until you arrive.”

  Maybe she’d been thrown from the chair before everything collapsed and was lying on the ground beyond the rubble. Maybe they all were. I had to see. I had to know.

  “I’ll have someone check and let you know.”

  I noticed one of the workers take off running. He was quickly swallowed by the fog.

  As more debris was cleared, I was given my first glimpse of the passageway beyond, and so far, saw no one.

  “Miss, I need you to step back,” one man said.

  “Please wait over here,” another said. He’d been the one on the walkie-talkie.

  It took me a moment to register what he’d said. Wait here? Why did he want me to… And then some of what he’d said on the walkie-talkie also started to make sense. I hadn’t been truly listening, but the out-of-context words from the earlier one-sided conversation suddenly became clear.

  He took me by the arm and dragged me away from the work, to stand by the wall in the corner of the room farthest from the door. He ordered me not to move.

  Someone was coming for me. I was not expecting a welcoming encounter; I needed to be gone before that person—or persons—arrived. My only hope was escaping the sub-levels where I could hopefully blend in better—to at least be taken for Bethany in an area of the palace in which she actually belonged.

  The small glimpse of the corridor beyond the wreckage gave me hope Princess Amelia and the others had escaped. Since I could no longer follow, it was my turn to escape.

  As soon as the man who’d directed me to wait by the wall turned his attention back to the others clearing the debris, I dashed for the door.

  He reached out with a curse, but I shook his brushing fingers away. I heard the crackle of the walkie-talkie as I made it to the corridor, unsure which way to go. I didn’t know where the incoming guys would be coming from. For all I knew, they could be arriving from multiple directions.

  “Stop her!” the guy with the walkie-talkie yelled, and several men left the cleanup to retrieve me.

  I decided on making a run for it the opposite way from which I came. Two men were out of the door in seconds and close on my heels, their masks making them look like bandits in the fog.

  Racing by another group of workers, I tipped over one of their tool carts, spilling their supplies across the corridor. This did nothing to stall my pursuers. They both leaped over the fallen cart without missing a step.

  They were getting closer and I knew, ultimately, I couldn’t outrun them.

  I turned a corner and saw a door on my right. Without a second thought, I darted inside the room and slammed the door shut. I threw my body against the door while I fumbled for the lock on the doorknob—except there wasn’t one.

  The knob on the opposite side of the door turned. My pursuers pushed at the door, which opened a few inches.

  I threw everything I had to keep them out, but they were quickly overpowering me. My scuffed shoes slipped on the concrete floor. My heart pounded in my chest, ready to explode. I frantically flipped on a nearby light switch and then glanced around the room for some type of salvation. It was a storage room filled with metal racks, canned food, and plastic jugs. If I could drag one of the shelving units over to the door…

  The force against the door suddenly stopped, and my weight against it slammed it shut again. Then I heard the familiar click of a deadbolt—secured from the outside. They’d locked me inside.

  Before more panic threatened to take over, I needed to think. The lower levels of the palace were mazes of rooms, corridors, and secret passageways, which seemed in continual motion. I wondered if anyone actually knew them all? There was a good chance this room would also lead somewhere forgotten. If there was a hidden door, I needed to find it before more men arrived to haul me away.

  So, I left the locked door in search of an alternate exit.

  There has to be one.

  The room was nearly square without any other noticeable doors, seemingly a large supply closet, but that was only what it was presently being used for. All the rooms were routinely repurposed.

  I searched among the rows of industrial shelving units. The Ramseys had had similar ones in their main pantry and overflow shelving in the cellar. I knew they could hold a lot of weight, but they weren’t terribly difficult to move, just a little cumbersome.

  I started by dragging the closest one to the door to act as a barricade. This would at least buy me a few pivotal seconds when the men attempted to enter again. Then I dragged over another. A few more seconds couldn’t hurt.

  Feeling better about the condition of the door, I continued my search for a hidden exit. Even though the walls seemed to be purely concrete, I ran my hands along them, hoping for any kind of seam I wasn’t noticing from afar. But it didn’t take long to circle the room and I was soon back to my starting point without success.

  I must be missing something.

  I looked to the floor, which was again unfinished concrete, then moved my gaze to the ceiling made up of square tiles. One of them had a discolored corner like something had been leaking. I walked to the row of shelving units directly below and noticed a small puddle o
f water on the floor.

  My thoughts were disrupted when the door crashed into the metal racks I’d positioned as a barricade. The racks shook and items lining the shelves toppled to the floor. They wouldn’t hold for long. I looked back up at the discolored tile and didn’t presently see another option. I began to climb up one of the shelving units. It shifted beneath me, starting to tip under my weight, so I kicked one foot to the adjacent shelving unit a few feet away; I was now straddling both. The balance of my weight between the two units held. I carefully scaled the shelves like the steps of two ladders.

  Outside the room, there was yelling now. More items crashed to the floor. Cans rolled. Glass shattered.

  As soon as I could reach the ceiling, I pushed on the discolored tile. It moved! The tile lifted into the ceiling and I pushed it aside. I continued my climb and hoisted myself into the ceiling, onto a large wooden beam that extended past the width of the room.

  I heard the booming crash of the shelving units by the door hitting the floor. The men from the corridor were storming into the room as I placed the ceiling tile back in its rightful place.

  “How did you let a teenage girl escape you?”

  “It’s not a girl.”

  “Semantics. Quit arguing.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Does this room have an escape route?”

  “Well, do you see her standing before us? No? Then there’s obviously a way out.”

  I remained squatting on the beam, trying not to move—not to make a sound. There was nothing I could do with them directly below; anything I tried would surely give my position away if they hadn’t figured it out already.

  “Here we go.”

  I heard another shelving unit being moved around.

  “How was I supposed to know?”

  “Why did you assume there wasn’t one? You all should know better. Now go. She couldn’t have gotten far. And remember, keep this to yourselves.”