by Gemma Hart
“They’ll leak,” I said with a definitive tone. “As gorgeous as you are, they didn’t take those photos for their own collection. I’m betting that within the next twelve hours, if not sooner, reports will be coming in on your whereabouts.”
The realization of that made me grab the remote to turn on the small kitchen TV. I put the volume on low. I wanted to keep an eye on the news so I knew just when the word broke on Sofia’s airport fiasco.
I turned back to her. Sofia was staring up at me, her face defiant yet her eyes heartbroken. Clearly, she was overwhelmed by the recent turn of events, which I couldn’t blame her for. But I was hurt as well. Did she not trust me to protect her? To take care of her?
“My uncle is in danger,” she said slowly, as if laying the facts out for herself as well as for me. “And I’m the only person who can save him.”
“How?” I asked. “By getting yourself killed?”
“He can’t kill me,” she argued. “The eyes of the world are on Loranza now. If I were to be killed, there’s no way he could establish any kind of government afterwards without serious sanctions and ramifications.”
I shook my head. In any other time, I would’ve been endeared by her naiveté and would’ve tried to protect it but now was not the time. That kind of naiveté could get her killed and that was something I was not about to let happen.
“If Pryto was a man to ever worry about sanctions and ramifications, he never would’ve started this coup,” I said. “There is nothing to guarantee your safety abroad. You need to work from the assumption that as soon as you land in Loranza, you’re dead.”
“There is nothing to guarantee my uncle’s safety!” she cried, her eyes sparkling. Seeing the tears stand out, I could see how thin of a thread Sofia was holding herself together with. I wanted to hold her tight, keep her within my grasp and know that my body would keep her safe.
But I couldn’t do that. Not just yet. I first had to have her see reason. If she kept fleeing or flouting mine and Commander Wolffe’s orders, nothing could keep her safe.
“But your uncle won’t be king,” I said quietly.
Sofia’s eyes widened momentarily before she took a shocked step back. My blunt words had hit her across the face and she stumbled at the impact.
“Your uncle’s life does not hold the same value yours does,” I said in the same quiet and stark honest voice. “At least,” I amended, “in regards to your country.”
Sofia stared at me. I could tell she wanted to refute my words but couldn’t. After all, it was true. She was the crowned heir, not her uncle.
Spending years in the field where you made life or death choices, you quickly gain the ability to separate your feelings from your decision making. The good of the many over the few. Easy Team’s own captain, Hawk, had had to face that kind of dilemma over and over again. And every man on Easy Team had seen it himself at some point during a mission. Lose a whole village to save a whole town? Lose one child to protect a dozen others? All in a day’s gritty, bloody work.
In terms of her country’s future and the succession of the monarchy, she was priceless. She was not expendable.
Her uncle was.
“His life has value to me,” Sofia said, her voice a tight whisper. “Despite Pryto’s best efforts, he was the only person to ever try and keep in contact with me. He was the one who sent me Christmas cards when I was away in school. He was the one who remembered my birthdays. He was the one who…” she choked on a sob before regaining some measure of control “…who remembered my parents and pressed me to remember them too.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I closed the distance between us in three long strides and wrapped my arms around her. She fought at first, pulling and twisting away from me, rejecting the comfort I so desperately wanted to give her. It always broke my heart to see how she always rejected comfort when she was in pain. I had noticed it early on. It spoke volumes on how she must’ve learned to cope with pain growing up.
But I held her firmly, giving her no room to wriggle free. And once she had tired herself out, she slumped in my arms, tears rolling silently down her face.
“I can save him,” I heard her whisper against my chest as I rubbed slow circles against her back. “There’s still time.”
“But you don’t have to do it alone,” I said, holding her close. “Let me help you. Let’s work together to come up with a plan.”
Sofia raised her head, her crystal blue eyes glistening like cut jewels. I brushed a thumb across her cheek, wiping away the hot tears. Her gaze brushed over my face, as if searching me for the truth. Could she really rely on me? Could she really believe she was not alone in this fight?
I held her steady in my arms, willing her with my body to accept my help.
“Let me help you,” I said, locking eyes with her, letting her see as deeply into me as she wanted. “Don’t do this alone.”
She stared up at me with a look of timid hope before she opened her mouth, about to reply when we both jerked at a short honking sound that blasted from the TV.
Even on low volume, we had heard the loud honk. We turned around and saw a male anchor on the screen, his eyes wide and his expression surprised. By his face was a picture of the Loranza flag.
Sofia grabbed the remote and raised the volume.
I tensed, wondering if this would be the report revealing Sofia’s location.
“…breaking news! But please be warned that this is graphic footage that is being broadcast. Please be aware. We do not recommend younger viewers to watch the following broadcast that is coming in live from Loranza,” the anchor said.
I felt Sofia’s body tightening in anxiety as the screen jumped from the news anchor to a shaky video of Minister Pryto. Dressed in what looked like formal black robes, the man stood on some kind of podium with his arms raised, addressing a large crowd that surrounded him.
“…see how little she cares!” he shouted to the crowd. “She discards even her own uncle, the Prince! If she cannot care for her own blood, how can she care for her people?”
The people roared in agreement, throwing their fists up and chanting.
Sofia shuddered in my arms at their thunderous shouts and I wanted to throw the TV across the room in frustrated anger. But instead, I just held onto her, wanting to somehow infuse her with my own strength.
Pryto let the cries go on for a good few minutes. Once he was satisfies the cameras had caught it all, he raised his hands to silence them. “But I am not like the royal family,” he cried. “I care about Loranza!” The people cheered raucously. “And even though he is not my family, he was our Prince and I have negotiated with the kidnappers and have rescued Prince Gregory!”
“Pryto! Pryto! Pryto!” the people cheered.
Sofia put a hand to her mouth, clearly confused.
I snorted, disgusted by the man. What a cheap trick. He had hired people to kidnap the prince and then once the ransom video had been made and villains had clearly been marked and Sofia’s reputation further damages, he was able to come out and now announce he had “saved” the prince even though he had been the one holding him the entire time.
The man was a born dictator.
“And once the prince had been rescued, he was put immediately on trial for the negligence and corruption he has been party to as member of the royal family,” Pryto continued. The crowd was hushed, hanging on his every word.
And in Wyoming, so were we.
“I presided over the case to ensure a swift and fair trial and after much consideration, Prince Gregory has been found guilty of negligence, corruption, contempt, and obstruction of justice in providing aid to locate the princess!”
The crowd cheered uproariously.
“Justice! Justice!” they cried.
Sofia slowly began shaking her head. “No…” she whispered, her eyes glued to the small screen. “No….”
“And so it is with a heavy heart that I sentence Prince Gregory to death for the crimes against the nation
he has committed!”
Sofia gave a sharp cry at the words but her body remained frozen, completely unable to move from where she stood. All she could do was stare at the screen, completely trapped by the broadcast.
From behind the podium, two guards marched up, dragging someone between them. It had been weeks since I had seen Prince Gregory in L.A. And during that time, it was clear the man had suffered.
Although he was taller than Pryto, he stood stooped and exhausted. His hair fell in bedraggled clumps across his eyes. Scraggly white stubble lined his once smooth shaven jaw. His cheeks were sunken with the signs of starvation. Pryto had been cruel to this man. He had clearly been torturing him without mercy.
Prince Gregory stood in what looked like rags and his arms were bound before him.
“Oh my god, no!” Sofia cried, tears welling up over her lashes, freefalling down her cheeks in hot rivulets. My throat clenched at watching the scene play out. I could already tell where this was going. I wanted to turn off the TV. I wanted to pull Sofia into my arms and drown out the world for her. But there was no hiding from this. Pryto was making sure of that.
“Prince Gregory,” Pryto started theatrically as the crowd booed and jeered him, “you have been found guilty by the courts for your treacherous actions against the State. You have been sentenced to death. Do you have any final words?”
I could feel Sofia leaning in, as if aching to reach through the screen to touch her beloved uncle.
Prince Gregory, despite the clear hardships he had been through, managed to straighten up. He looked out onto the crowd through his greasy and messy hair. Even through the rags, you could see the posture of a prince. It was hard to deny the authority that still radiated from him.
“My people,” he started. People immediately started booing and jeering but the prince persevered. “My people, it breaks my heart to know you are suffering. And as unlikely as it is for you to believe, I know it breaks the Crown Princess’s heart as well.”
A small but steady tremor began to run through Sofia’s body. She shook as if her body was ready to come apart at the seams and she was just barely holding it together.
“There is nothing I can say or do now that could change your feelings but this is what I hope for in the future,” he said, speaking with a clear even tone that made clear his royal upbringing. “My hope is that some day, hopefully in the near future, you will all become the true Loranza once again. A country that is not one of hate or fear or anger but one of understanding and love and forgiveness. There have been many mistakes made in recent history and perhaps there is one person who deserves most of the blame but it is not who you think it is. So, with my last breaths, I hope that Loranza can open their hearts and minds so that our wonderful country will have many more generations to come. Don’t let this be the end of our history. Don’t let the fight end here.”
There was a sudden hush that fell across the crowd. The words had been powerful and had been powerfully spoken. It was obvious they had touched the people in an unexpected way.
But Pryto wasn’t about to let anyone gain footing over him. “Pretty words cannot cover up ugly deeds!” he cried out. And as if woken from a stupor, the people roared again and booed the prince.
The two guards on either side of the prince marched him to the end of the stage where there was a small raised box. They placed the prince on the box. My muscles tightened, watching the scene unfold. My fist closed, momentarily forgetting I wasn’t holding a rifle.
Sofia’s tremors grew stronger as she began to shake her head, her body instinctively denying what she was watching.
One of the guards reached up the gallows above and pulled down the knotted rope.
“Oh my god, no, no, no,” Sofia whispered heartbreakingly. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Please. Please. Uncle Gregory. Please!” I was sure she wasn’t even aware the flood of tears that was flowing down her cheeks.
“Prince Gregory,” Pryto said, once the rope was securely around the Prince’s neck, “may God have mercy on your soul!”
The signal was given. The lever was pulled.
And the gruesome image of Prince Gregory’s body dropping grotesquely by the rope was burned into our brains.
But it was Sofia’s piercing screams of unbearable heartbreak that burned into my heart.
***
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. I wiped the damp cloth down her forehead and neck.
She looked up at me and around the room, disorientated and confused. But I could almost pinpoint the moment reality rushed back to her and immediately, she gasped as if someone was literally stabbing her heart. Tears streamed down her face in hot rivers and she bit her lip till she drew blood.
Almost immediately, she had fainted, completely overwhelmed by the cruelty and pain inflicted by a man who had tortured her her entire life. I had carried her upstairs into the bedroom, my body pulsing with adrenaline to snap the man’s neck and to rewind time.
I had seen my fair share of men drunk on power but it never got any easier to handle. Each one of them carried a cruel streak that made them inhuman and unbearable.
Sofia turned over to her side, away from me.
She put her hands to her face. “This is my fault,” she said in a muffled voice, thick with aching pain.
“No,” I said, my heart breaking for her. “This isn’t—”
She suddenly sat up, whirling around towards me. Her face was red and wet with tears, her blue eyes fierce with accusatory anger.
“And it’s your fault!” she cried angrily. “You stopped me from saving him! You stopped me from rescuing my uncle! I could’ve done something! I could’ve prevented this! But you stopped me!”
“Sofia, this isn’t your fault,” I said calmly and evenly. I wanted to reach for her but I could tell she wasn’t ready for my touch yet.
She glared at me. “It is and it’s your—”
“It’s not yours or mine,” I interrupted. “Don’t insult yourself that way. By saying it’s your fault, you’re letting Pryto off the hook. You’re letting his actions seem condonable while yours were inexcusable. He was the one who put you in this dangerous situation. He was the one who forced you into hiding. There is only person responsible for your uncle’s death and that is Pryto.”
Sofia gave a choked cry at the mention of her uncle’s death. It was still so fresh it hardly seemed real.
She shook her head. “But I could’ve done something! If you hadn’t stopped me, I could’ve done something!”
“You would’ve broken your uncle’s heart,” I answered honestly. “You would’ve made him watch his only niece die in front of him.”
“You don’t know that!” Sofia nearly screamed at me. Her fists were balled up and she shook with pain.
“That broadcast was made ten hours before the forty eight hour deadline the ‘kidnappers’ gave you,” I explained. “Then he changed the narrative to say he ‘rescued’ your uncle from the kidnappers, negating that forty eight hour deadline. Don’t you see? He had no intention of following his own threats. He only made that ransom video to shame and destroy you and your reputation. Then he used Prince Gregory’s execution to bolster his own powers and popularity while also ruining yours.”
Sofia stared at me as I laid out the facts.
“Don’t you see?” I said, my voice quieter as my heart ached for her. “He had never planned to do anything except kill you and your uncle. He just wanted to set the best stage for it.”
“I could’ve negotiated….” Sofia mumbled, clearly unable to lower the burden of guilt.
I shook my head. “Why do you think your uncle fought so hard to make sure your location remained secret? Don’t you think your uncle wanted peace for Loranza as well? If he had thought any form of negotiation possible, don’t you think he would’ve called you back immediately?”
I saw Sofia’s face slowly crumble as realization of her uncle’s sacrifice hit her. I continued, wanting to make sure she saw the entire truth so that
if it was at all possible, her heartache would be just a little more bearable.
“He kept you hidden because he knew you were in danger. Even in the ransom video, he made sure to press upon you to not reveal yourself. Every step of the way, he made sure to keep you protected.” I reached out and gently covered Sofia’s fist with my hand. She didn’t jerk away.
“If you had gone to Loranza or anywhere else and had gotten caught in Pryto’s snares, all of Prince Gregory’s work, all of his efforts to keep his niece and future Queen safe would’ve been for nothing,” I said. “He sacrificed everything to keep you safe. Honor him by not throwing your life away.”
Aching blue eyes looked up at me. Tears were brimming across her thick lashes. Pain so profound and deep laced her expression.
“He was the only family I had,” she whispered brokenly. “He was…” tears fell and her voice thickened “….He was all I had.”
I slid forward and pulled her into my arms, gently curling her towards my chest. She hesitated only a moment before she let herself sink into me.
I kissed the top of her head fiercely.
“He was a good man,” I said and I felt Sofia cry out against my chest, hearing my words. “He was a brave man. And I will do everything I can to honor his memory by helping you and protecting you.”
I pressed another kiss to her head, holding her in close as she sobbed against me.
“Because you are all I have,” I said fiercely.
Chapter Fifteen
Sofia
“When do I fly out?” I asked, staring at the computer screen image of Commander Wolffe. My eyes were so swollen from crying that it almost hurt to have them open but I kept my focus.
“You’ll fly out from a small private airfield near you in an hour. From there, you’ll land at Burbank. There a private jet will be waiting for you to take you to France. The French government have offered to give you asylum while you try and negotiate with Pryto,” the Commander explained.
