“I’m alright. Have they been treating you well?”
“The doctors scared me, but they went away.”
There’s something childlike in her voice. If I was talking to her on the phone, I’d think she was a twelve-year-old.
“The nurses are nice. They gave me Band-Aids and let me eat lime Jell-O. I don’t think it’s real Jell-O.”
She lowers her voice.
“One of them told me you were with the prince. Is that him outside?”
“Yes.”
“Is he coming in?”
Her eyes. The look in her eyes crushes me. I feel like I’m going to sink through the floor. I gently take her hands in mine.
“No, he’s not. He’s not going to hurt you. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore, I promise.”
“They won’t let me go home. I can’t talk to my mommy and daddy.”
I bite my lip and strain to hold back tears. It’s like she’s completely broken. She notices the tension in my expression and starts to cry softly.
“I want to go home. I hate this place. I keep dreaming that thing is back.”
“What thing?”
“With the sword. It was a demon from hell. I saw it. I saw what it did to those men who were going to hurt us. You didn’t look but I looked. I looked.”
Suddenly her arms are around me. I pull her head to my shoulder and let her sob into my stupid poofy princess dress.
“Why did this happen? I didn’t want this. I only wanted to help people. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I want to go home, Penny. Will he listen to you? Ask him to let us go home.”
I can’t make myself lie to her, but I don’t want to tell her the truth.
“I hate it here. Please.”
I hold her tighter and let her sob until she quiets down.
“I don’t understand why God is punishing me.”
“He’s not,” I tell her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her voice changes a little. She sounds more like herself, but the question turns my bones to ice.
“Penny, are we in hell?”
“No, we’re in Kosztyla. They’re… They’re keeping us here for our safety.” I bite off the words, resenting every syllable. “We’ll be able to go home soon.”
I stroke her hair and lean my chin on her head until her breathing grows more even and she stops crying. She falls back on the pillows and covers her eyes with her hands.
“I’m sorry, Penny. Just listen to me. I’m losing it. I can’t take it much longer. I need to get out of here. I want my mom. I just want to hear her voice. Please.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t stay.”
“I’ll pray for you,” she says with an earnestness that gives me shivers. “I pray he doesn’t hurt you.”
“I don’t think he will.”
“He’s evil.”
“I know.”
I stand up and hold her hands for a moment and try to look strong, but I’m going to end up on the floor myself if I don’t get outside. I try not to rush into the hall until the door closes.
As it clicks shut I fall back against the wall and slide down to plop on the floor and stare at nothing.
“Persephone?”
“Don’t,” I say coldly. I look up at him. “Was this supposed to impress me? It’s a nice prison, but it’s still a prison.”
“She needs psychological care.”
“She needs to talk to her mother.”
“I already explained this to you,” he says, clearly fighting to keep his voice even. “If I let either of you leave you will be in mortal danger.”
I point at the door. “That isn’t mortal danger? She’s going nuts in there. She needs real help, not whatever you’re doing to her. How can you be this cruel?”
I look around the hallway and blink a few times. The guards, a couple doctors and nurses, and a few orderlies are all staring at me wide eyed, like they just saw me give birth to a live chicken.
“Get up,” he says coldly. “Do not say another word unless spoken to.”
Shakily I lean on the bench and rise. He takes my arm and pulls me to my feet, not roughly but firmly.
“I was right about you,” I say very softly. “Completely right.”
“What did she ask you for?”
“To convince you to let her leave.”
He looks past me, at the door. “That will not happen.”
“Then let her talk to her family. Please. I’m begging you. She’s been through a lot. She needs to hear a familiar voice. She’s not a machine, my prince. You can’t just have them put her back together like repairing a broken generator.”
He bites his lip. On anyone else, it would almost be endearing.
I lower my voice even further.
“If you could talk to your mother, would you?”
The prince flinches, as if I’d hit him.
“My mother is dead,” he says coldly.
He snaps his fingers, and barks a rapid order in Kosztylan at the orderly who approaches, eyes downcast. The man nods and darts off, and the prince stands there, waiting. I put my fists on my hips and wait alongside him, wondering what he’s going to inflict on me now.
The orderly comes back carrying a cordless phone on a plastic tray, the kind they might use to serve dinner.
The prince takes it and hands it to me.
“I am told you will have to dial nine for an outside line. Call her parents. Then take the phone in to her. When she is done, bring it to me. Do not let them hang up until I speak to them.”
I stare at him, wide eyed, and then quickly dial. Someone shouts at me in Kosztylan on the other end. I didn’t hit nine first. I try again and listen to the phone ringing. A tired voice answers.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Petersen? Is this Melissa’s mom?”
“I…” she yawns. “Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Penny. I’m—”
“Oh my God, are you the other girl? The one who went missing with my daughter? Where is she? Where are you?”
“I… We’re in a hospital.”
“Where? The church said you disappeared, they don’t know where you are. Why haven’t you called in?”
“They didn’t let us.”
“They who? Where are you?”
“Kosztyla.”
Silence on the other end of the phone, and then a whimper.
“My God in heaven, what are you doing there?”
“It’s a long story—”
“Did you get my daughter in some kind of trouble?”
“No. It’s a long story, I told you. We’re okay, we haven’t…”
I was going to say we haven’t been here, but that’s not quite true.
“I’ll tell you soon. Melissa is here and she wants to talk to you. She’s been through a lot but she’s not physically hurt, she’s just really shaken up. She really wants to talk to you and—”
“Put her on. Please.”
I look at the prince. He gives me one sharp nod and steps back from the door, motioning his men away as well, so Melissa can’t see them.
I walk in with the phone.
Melissa looks up, and her eyes snap to the phone.
“I talked to the prince, Melissa. We can’t leave yet, but your mom is on—”
She snatches it from me.
“Mommy,” she wails, “is that you? Is it you?”
I hear a similar cry on the other end, and for a moment all either of them do is weep, sobbing loudly.
“It’s me, I’m okay, they didn’t hurt me, there were bad men and they were going to but Penny saved me and she’s going to help me come home.”
I flinch, taken aback.
“She’s an angel, God sent her to help me. I miss you so much, I just wanted to hear your voice. No, no they haven’t hurt me, I’m in a hospital. No they won’t let me leave. I don’t want to leave, it’s too scary outside, I’m in a room. No I don’t know what number.”
“Melissa,�
� I touch her arm gently, “I need the phone back when you’re ready.”
“Why? I want to keep talking to them. Mom? What?” She sighs. “She says to do as they say.”
“She’s right. You’ll talk to her again soon, I promise.”
“I will? You’ll make him let me talk to her?”
“I will, no matter what. Very soon, okay? I just need the phone for a minute and I’ll be right back.”
Melissa nods. I take the phone from her outstretched hand and carry it back outside, as if it might break if I drop it.
“Stay on the line, please. The prince wants to speak to you.”
“What? Who? Wait, you mean… Holy mother of God.”
I shove the phone at him but stay close. I can hear her, hysterical on the other end.
“Please don’t hurt my daughter, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll pay if you want us to. We have savings…”
“I am not a kidnapper,” the prince snaps, indignant. “I demand no ransom.”
“Then what do you want? Please let my daughter go. I just want her back. Please, please please.”
He stands there in silence, clutching the phone in a shaking hand.
“I cannot let her return home. It would not be safe for her.”
“Oh God, please. Whatever she’s done I’m sure it was a mistake. I’ll do anything you want, please. I’ll take her place. Let me come there and send her back. Just don’t hurt her, I’m begging you. She’s a good child, she wouldn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t mean it, whatever it was…”
“She hasn’t committed a crime. She’s being held for her own protection.”
“I need to see my little girl. Please.”
As she descends into hysterics, the prince’s eyes go distant and his hand starts to drop, the phone pulling away from his ear.
“Woman.”
Melissa’s mom is sobbing.
“Woman,” he barks.
She goes silent. I can hear her trembling over the phone, almost.
“You are married.”
“Y-yes, we are.”
“Children? Other than the girl?”
“I have a younger son.”
“I will send plane tickets… No, I will send a full diplomatic escort. You are welcome to join her here, as guests.”
“What? You want us to come there?”
He looks at the phone. Melissa’s mom is talking to her father.
“Can we leave now? Please?”
“As soon as my people arrive. I will hand you off to one of my adjutants who will arrange the details. Then you may speak to your daughter again. When you are on the plane, I will arrange a video conferencing call.”
“Oh God, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“It… It is my pleasure…” he says mechanically.
He hands the phone off, as he says, to one of his men, who speaks in curt, accented English.
“Everyone out,” he says in a flat, quiet tone.
It’s like someone set off an alarm. Everyone on the entire floor just vanishes, even the guards at Melissa’s door.
Everyone but me. I stand to my full height, such as it is.
“It is a shame you refuse to be a princess. You would be a magnificent one.”
I cock my head to the side.
“Maybe you’re not completely evil. Now, can I call my parents?”
“I will consider it.”
“But—”
“Enough.”
I close my mouth sharply and tilt my head down.
The prince reaches over and pushes my chin back up with his fingers.
“I like you better with your head held high. You’re prettier that way.”
I bat his hand away. “Don’t get grabby, mister fancy pants.”
He laughs. “You berate me for inspiring so much fear. I think my men were more scared of you than they were of their prince just now.”
I smile but quickly force my face still.
I really shouldn’t encourage him.
“If you think you can buy your way into my pants with kindness to my friend, you’re wrong.”
“What would it take me to convince you that I was moved by your pleas? Truly?”
“I don’t know if you can.”
Just for a bare moment he glances at the floor. Then he simply turns and walks, expecting me to follow. I quicken my pace to catch up, and it’s like someone hit a giant pause button. All the activity in the hospital resumes, people just sweeping right back to work as we pass, as if nothing happened.
Almost nothing. I can still taste it on the air, the tension. Like ozone before a thunderstorm. I can sense the relief, too, as we step into the elevator.
“You don’t see it at all, do you?”
“What?”
“These people are terrified of you. Truly afraid.”
“Do you not fear the police in your country?”
“In my country?” I repeat, my eyebrow twitching as I eye him.
He sighs.
“Yeah. I am a little scared of cops if I think I might get in trouble. I don’t come from the land of sunshine and lollipops. But if I was at work and the president came to visit me, yeah I’d be a little intimidated, but I wouldn’t be afraid that he’d murder me if I sneezed in front of him.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s called hyperbole.”
“I don’t murder my people.”
“When you call yourself judge and jury and act as the executioner, yeah, you do.”
“Why does it matter that these things be done separately?”
“One person shouldn’t have all that power over another person’s life. What if you chop off someone’s head, and you’re wrong?”
I almost expect him to tell me he doesn’t make mistakes, but instead he says, “Your country uses the death penalty, too.”
“Yes… But there’s a difference. There are rules of evidence and the court is supposed to be unbiased. I’m not saying it’s perfect, but did you execute that man I watched you kill because the evidence demanded it or because he pissed you off?”
“Both. Wait,” he says sharply. “I don’t know. Do you argue he didn’t deserve to die?”
“No. Maybe, I don’t know. He’s not a good example. He was a complete piece of shit, yes, but maybe whether he deserves to die or not, it isn’t up to you to decide.”
“Yet it is done in your country.”
“Not everywhere. Look, I don’t know if capital punishment is right or wrong. I can’t make up my mind, but the government of my country has that power because the people have granted it to them. The people can take it away, and they have in many states. You only have that power because nobody can stop you. The only difference between you and any other thug is a castle and a fancy armor suit.”
I expect him to snap at me again, but he looks almost thoughtful as he regards me. Then his expression shifts.
“You are very passionate when something angers you.”
I look away, hoping the harsh hospital lighting won’t let him see me blush. I have to control myself. In spite of however I try to make myself feel, I get a little tingle every time he praises me.
The prince opens my door to the car in a gentlemanly gesture and steadies me as I step inside before entering himself.
He sits back in the seat.
“Why did you help her?”
“Who?”
“My friend. You could have just dragged me off if you liked, you didn’t have to do that.”
“I dislike the sound of a woman in distress. It…aggravates me.”
“I think you do care about these people, on some level. Part of you has to see that this isn’t right.”
“I tire of this line of conversation.”
I sigh. “Will you let them go home? Her parents? If she can’t leave, why can they?”
He clenches his jaw. “I don’t know. You make me regret my rash decision.”
“You should let her go.”
“If I let her go, her life is forfeit. Do you doubt me? You think the people who were ready to sell you will protect you? I will protect you!”
I shrink back and swallow hard.
“You’re not protecting her. Locking her in that room forever will kill her as surely as some assassin’s bullet, my prince.”
He leans forward. “I tire of this. We go back to the castle.” He clasps his head between his hands. “You make it sound as if my every choice is between one evil or another. I’d rather not choose at all.”
“We’re not going back to the castle.”
He lifts his head from his hands and looks at me.
“You promised me you’d show me around. Show me people, not horses and hawks. I want to see how people live here. You promised.”
He sighs, hard. “Very well. Where would you like to go?”
“It’s lunchtime. Let’s eat.”
Chapter Seven
“I do not know where you would wish to eat.”
I bite my lip and think about that one for a moment.
Then it hits me.
“Show me a school.”
“A school?”
“Yes, a school. With children.”
The prince looks away. “As you wish.”
I fold my arms over my chest and sit up in the seat. “Last night, you asked me to have your child. Which is not how it is done, I might add.”
“People in my country believe a strong mother begets a strong child.” He considers that for a moment, idly scratching his chin. “And you have birthing hips.”
I glare at him.
He gives the driver an order, and off we go, away from the hospital. I look back, silently praying that the prince will be good to his word and help Melissa. He seemed moved on the phone.
I glance over at him, trying not to catch his attention. I want to believe that my instinct is more than attraction, that there is more than the flutter in my chest when his sharp eyes look at me, more than the longing for his powerful arm and thick chest, and that feeling I get when he walks in front of me.
He has a great ass. I noticed. Can you blame me?
It’s layers and layers of masks with this guy. I saw it when Melissa’s mom was pleading with him on the phone. The mask slipped and I saw the man underneath.
I want to see that again.
He glances at me and I look away quickly, shivering as all the heat in my body goes to my cheeks. I fold my hands and end up wringing them for the rest of the ride.
Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) Page 39
