Prince's Revenge Baby: A Royal Romance

by Ana Adams

  A few people poked their heads out of windows, responding to the odd morning disturbance. One falsetto voice even mocked his call for Rawnie, though he wasn’t sure if it was a drunkard or a parrot.

  He checked a few more side streets, revisited the main road, and then a wide alleyway. He stumbled down the cobblestone lane, legs like gelatin from the run and the adrenaline, when he heard a baby cry.

  He froze; the cry recurred, followed by shushing. Was it Rawnie? He followed the noises, which led him around a corner. He peered down the alley, shrouded in darkness, the stench of piss greeting his nostrils.

  And there she was. His beautiful Rawnie, cradling their son in her arms as he fussed. Tears clouded his eyes.

  “Rawnie,” he croaked out. “Where are you going?”

  Her head snapped to look at him; fear shone there. “What are you doing here?”

  He stumbled toward her, heart racing. “I found you. I’m bringing you home with me.”

  “Get out of here,” she hissed, eyes dark and roiling, fiercer than he’d ever seen before. “I mean it. Get out of here now.”

  He set his jaw, propping himself up against the wall. That run had done him in. And now this? Nothing made sense about this morning. Nothing at all. “No. You’re coming with me.”

  She glared at him. “Anwar, this is for the best. I promise you. You don’t understand what you’re doing yet. You don’t understand what this all means.”

  “So you just decide to go kill yourself?” He scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like the Rawnie I know. Dark sides or not—someone’s full of shit here.”

  She sighed exasperatedly. “I wanted to make it easy for you, okay?” She bounced Anwar in her arms. “Just let us go, you can be a widower and continue your life as normal. You won’t be bound to us by law, or by tradition, or anything. It’s what you’ll want, I promise you.”

  “I want you.”

  “You think you do, Anwar, but you don’t. Not really. Maybe for a while, but not forever.” She swallowed, face hardening. “And I won’t be abandoned twice.”

  Her pain slashed through him, made him weak. “Rawnie, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. You’re the only woman I would even attempt forever with.”

  “If I’d come without the baby, we’d have never had a chance.”

  “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

  “Like you want every other woman.” Her mouth thinned to a line. “Just let us go. You can accept our fake deaths and move on with your life.”

  “I want you and my son in my real life, dammit!” The emotion in his voice surprised even him. “Now come with me!”

  Rawnie’s eyes widened, focused on something behind him. Before he could turn around, she gasped and called out, “Look out, Anwar!”

  He spun just in time to see the butt of a billy club crash down on his head. The world turned dark and quiet.

  ***

  Rawnie groaned, turning onto her side. Something poked at her, all along her arms; she flinched, batting it away, but it persisted. She opened an eye, soreness in her back blossoming suddenly. She was lying on a bed of straw, the source of the prickly bits all over her body. A dry tongue met the roof of her mouth. Baby Anwar fussed at her side.

  She lifted her head to look around, mind foggy and slow. How had she gotten here? She groaned again, struggling to sit up. They were in a small, dingy room, boxed in and damp. Who knew what time it was, or how long she’d been out. Her last memory was of being held by a goon as he placed a foul-smelling rag to her mouth.

  As she looked around, she caught a glimpse of Anwar across from her; body strewn like the forgotten toy of a giant. Tears pricked at her eyes; he’d been knocked out cold. Hit by from behind, the sneer of the man who’d attacked him a memory that wouldn’t leave her.

  She crawled toward him, shaking his arm. “Anwar. Wake up.”

  He didn’t move. She shook him again. “My prince. Please wake up.”

  There was no response, but his eyes fluttered. He was alive—he had to be. She shook him harder. “Anwar, wake up.”

  He groaned a little, his forehead creasing.

  “Show me your eyes,” she pleased, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I need to see them.”

  No response.

  “Don’t you fall back asleep on me,” she said, trying to sound teasing. She scooted closer to him, cupping his face in her hands. A trail of blood had dried on his forehead from his head wound. “Wake up, now. Come on.”

  He was silent.

  “If you wake up, I’ll make it worth your while.” She tried to inject a playful lilt to her voice. Like maybe he was awake but refusing to open his eyes because he was still angry about her escape. That was a dumb idea. Why did you ever try to leave him? Look at the mess you caused for everyone. And now you really might not make it out alive.

  “Anwar.” She shoved him, as hard as he could. “Anwar, you need to wake up. Your wife needs you.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Your son needs you.”

  She wiped away the tears that had fallen, watching his unresponsive face. “If you wake up right now, I promise I’ll never leave again. I’m yours for life. Just wake up.”

  Anwar inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering open. Blank eyes darted around the room until they settled on her, like a laser beam. He reached for her arm, clarity making steps across his face.

  “I found you.” His voice came out a throaty whisper. “Oh, Rawnie. I had the worst dream.”

  “Did you?” She swallowed more tears, unable to decide if she wanted to laugh or cry right now. She’d never been more thankful to see this man’s eyes. “What was it?”

  He paused, swallowing, eyes darting around the room. Like the reality was syncing up. “Maybe it happened in real life.”

  “I think it did.” She looked around, and then scooped Anwar Jr. into her arms. “I don’t know where we are, my love.”

  Anwar pushed himself to sitting, wincing. “Me neither. But we’ll make our way out of here. Don’t worry. What were you doing in that alleyway?”

  “Baby Anwar had started to cry.” Her throat tightened at the memory. If only she’d never walked down that alley. “I didn’t want to attract attention, so I went down the first alley I found.”

  He pressed two fingertips to the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I just need a moment to rest.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Take all the time you need.” A new voice cut through the air, familiar and cold. Rawnie spun to find the source of the voice. Diaab strolled into the room from a small doorway, a sneer on his face. Anwar groaned, face creased with pain.

  “How are you feeling, after the horrible fight?” Diaab’s sneer turned into a scowl. “Or should I say, the pitiful, laughably easy fight between you and my guard?”

  Anwar scoffed. “He sideswiped me.” He glared at his uncle, wavering a bit as he pushed himself up. “What are we doing here, Uncle? Why have you brought us here?”

  “These are good questions,” Diaab mused, strolling the far side of the room. “I figured you’d ask them. And I’ll tell you the truth, since you won’t be around much longer to hold it against me: I brought you here because I wanted to.”

  Rawnie swallowed bile rising in her throat. Panic made her mute; all she could do was look to Anwar for help.

  Anwar sneered. “And you think this won’t go unnoticed? You’re insane.”

  “Who will notice?” Diaab stopped his cocky strut, hands out at his side. “Tell me. Who will notice? Your father died last night. What a pity. And the rest of the staff is under the impression that the new king and queen have abandoned the kingdom, which will soon spread to the newspapers. So I ask you, Anwar—who?”

  Rawnie covered her mouth, watching with horror as the news sunk into her prince. Anwar’s voice cracked as he spat out, “My father is dead?”

  “He is. Terribly tragic.” Diaab resumed strolling, focusing on the ground like he was contemplating a lunch menu as opposed to this diaboli
cal turn of events.

  Anwar’s chest hitched with a sob, covering his face as he wept. Rawnie went to his side, pulling him into her arms. She glared at Diaab as he buried his face in her chest.

  “You fucking monster,” she spat. Anwar Jr. began to whimper at the heightened emotion.

  Anwar straightened, cheeks ruddy. “How do I know you’re not lying? Why would I believe you?”

  “Because I’ve been poisoning him, you idiot.” Diaab’s eyes glinted like ice in the dimly lit room. “The slob took forever to die, too.”

  “Don’t you dare call my father a slob,” Anwar warned, voice straining. “After all he did—”

  “He did nothing,” Diaab said, his voice like a razor blade. “He disinherited me and allowed you to run loose like a goddamn street dog. You grew up with no morals, no work ethic, no sense of pride—”

  “Enough,” Anwar warned.

  “I’ve had my fill of you and him. Luckily, he’s gone and soon you will be too.” Diaab smiled garishly. “After I take care of a few tasks at the castle, I’ll be taking you personally to the countryside where I can handle you exactly as I’ve been meaning to since you were a boy.”

  Rawnie stroked Anwar’s back, questions burbling to life inside of her. “How did you know where to find me?”

  Diaab turned his smile her way. “I pay very well for my spies, little whore. It was no huge feat to discover your plans to swindle the prince into thinking you’d committed suicide. Noble though it is to release him of his unfortunate obligation to the boy, I thought I’d finish the job I had set out to do since you set foot in the palace.”

  “What job?” Rawnie asked the question, already knowing the answer in her heart.

  “To kill you, obviously.” Diaab rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone from his pocket. “Now, let’s see here. I must be on my way. It’s almost evening, and I have an important announcement to make to the palace. You see, this is going to be very big news. Since I’ve been disinherited, the crown passes directly to my son and heir—Ra’ees. He’s not terribly prepared for this role, but with his good, wise father at the helm, I’m sure he’ll have no problem.” Diaab winked, tossing them a cheeky smile.

  “Ra’ees could never be king,” Anwar spat, pushing himself to standing. He wobbled on his feet. “He’s never wanted it.”

  “Nor have you,” Diaab said, lifting a brow. “So what are you fighting for?”

  “I’m fighting for my family and its legacy,” Anwar said, voice full of emotion. Tears pricked Rawnie’s eyes. “I’m fighting for my country, and for what’s right.”

  “Well aren’t you just a diamond in the rough?” The sarcasm dripped from him. Diaab spun on his heels, heading back out the small doorway. “Don’t try to escape, because you’ll be shot on the spot. The area is guarded. I’ll be back for you later.”

  His footsteps disappeared and silence settled over the room. Anwar gathered Rawnie to his chest, his warmth comforting despite the stress.

  “What will we do?” She looked up at him, desperate to think of a solution.

  Anwar gnawed at his lip, eyes rimmed red from emotion. His usually neat hair was tousled, dirt streaked across his forearms. She’d never seen him so unhinged and raw.

  “We’ll think of something.” He offered a small smile, the reassurance settling into her. She cuddled Anwar Jr. to her chest, trying to find peace in the moment. They’d find a way out of this hell and back to reality. Back to safety. They had to.

  Anwar cleared his throat. “Guards! Show yourselves!”

  Silence settled, and a guard appeared in the doorway. “What?”

  “We’d like a cup of water.”

  The guard laughed and strutted away. Anwar nodded and lowered his voice. “Okay, I just wanted to see if he’d answer. I think I have a plan.”

  ***

  Less than a half hour later, the setup was complete. Rawnie sat perched on a beam above the doorway, ready for action. They’d practiced the maneuver several times, as furtively as possible. The plan was simple: once the guard entered the room, Rawnie would drop down and strangle him with her legs.

  The idea occurred to him because of her famous trick from the performance at the castle, where she’d dropped down and wrapped herself around her partner—almost slithering. At the time, he’d been desperate to feel those legs around his own face, not knowing what he’d experience in a matter of hours that night.

  Now, this guard would experience a different sensation by way of those legs, one that would hopefully allow Anwar to disarm him and lead them to safety.

  He’d tucked the baby away safely into the corner, partially obscured by straw. Somehow, the baby slept, despite the stress and the fear. He gave one last glance to Rawnie on her perch and then nodded.

  “Guards!”

  He waited, heart throbbing in his throat, for the guard to cross the threshold. He strolled in, looking bored. Just below the beam, he paused, lifting a brow.

  Anwar gave the signal and Rawnie dropped down from the rafter, poised perfectly to straddle him with her legs. The guard grunted in surprise, hands flying to meet her knees. She locked her ankles and squeezed, the guard’s eyes popping open with surprise.

  While she squeezed, the guard flailed, stumbling back and forth as he attempted to free himself. Anwar slunk to his side, reaching for the holstered gun.

  The guard flailed harder, whipping around in an attempt to fling Rawnie off him. She struggled against the movements, but eventually she toppled to the ground, avoiding a nasty spill with a graceful somersault.

  Anwar raised the gun to the guard. Point blank shot. The guard raised his hands in surrender, eyes shining with fear.

  “Don’t shoot me,” he whispered.

  Anwar shot him in the thigh. His screams echoed in the small room and he crumpled to the ground. Rawnie hopped away, eyes on the blood as it made a fast trail through the hay.

  “He’ll live,” Anwar reassured her. The baby wailed from the corner. “Get him and let’s go.”

  Rawnie scooped up the baby while Anwar peered out the doorway. Another guard ran down the hallway toward the room; Anwar lined up the shot and hit him in the thigh too. He crumpled to the ground, grasping at his leg. Anwar headed for him, picking up the second gun as he passed by.

  “You’re a great shot,” Rawnie murmured as they stepped past the newly downed guard. “I never knew you’d be so handy with a gun.”

  “Part of the royal upbringing,” Anwar said, pulling her behind him, scanning the hall for more sentries. “You’ll be getting lessons as well, after today.”

  The first door they came to Anwar tested cautiously; it was open, and it led to the street. When they emerged onto the sidewalk, he could see the perspective of their capture; they’d been knocked out in an alleyway and moved to a warehouse nestled in a block of buildings near the castle. Close enough for convenience while Diaab overthrew the palace.

  “We’ve got to hurry.” Anwar tossed one gun into a garbage bin, slipped the other into his waistband and reached for the baby. He held him close as he ran, pulling Rawnie along behind him. They thudded their way toward the castle, which loomed like an imposing block on the horizon. Nighttime was falling fast.

  At the castle gates, the sentries looked confused as they blazed past, barefoot and dirty. “Follow us!” Anwar gestured for them to keep pace. He’d never been so grateful to see his home, the royal palace. And he’d never mistake his fortune in life again.

  They burst through the main doors, beelining for the grand hall. The doors were shut, as he’d expected. A session was being held.

  Anwar pulled open the door, the Diaab’s resonating baritone echoing through the room.

  “—supremely disappointing that this turn of events would occur so soon after the wedding, but this is what happens with weak men and foreign women.”

  Anger stormed through Anwar. He threw the door open and strode into the room, Anwar Jr. in his arms and Rawnie behind him.

 
“Diaab!” Anwar entered the great hall, where the advisors and select family members were gathered. Diaab stood in the center of the hall, Ra’ees at his side. Gasps echoed through the hall; Diaab recoiled, laughing with surprise.

  “What are you doing here?” Diaab’s incredulity rang shrill.

  “This man is a murderer and a liar.” Anwar pointed at his uncle, approaching him slowly. “He poisoned my father until his death, which he confessed to me this evening.” More gasps in the hall. “And he orchestrated our capture so that he could murder my wife, my son, and me.”

  Diaab glared at him, face growing dark and firm. “These are lies.”

  “His plan was for Ra’ees to ascend to power once we were gone, so that he could act as the grand puppet master behind the curtain.”

  Ra’ees edged away, glancing between his father and cousin.

  “And now it’s over, Diaab.” Anwar spun on his heels, searching out the sentries who had followed them inside. “Guards, take this man and his son away!”

  The sentries appeared, easily restraining Diaab and Ra’ees. Diaab stayed quiet as they led him off but Ra’ees kicked and screamed as they took him away. “I’ve been like a brother to you,” he pleaded. “This wasn’t my idea! Anwar, please! Let me go!”

  The sentries dragged the men out of the room, the room buzzing with conversation and speculation.

  “All hail King Anwar!” The cry rose from the back. The room repeated it, the chant growing louder.

  With a sigh, Anwar gathered Rawnie and his son to his chest, gratitude shuddering through him. His body ached, and he had grieving to get through. But the most important people in the world were with him now.

  “Rawnie,” he whispered into her ear, tightening his grip. “What do you say we try a redo of our first night together?”

  She laughed weakly against his chest. “You mean in the morning I won’t try to fake our suicides and escape from the castle?”