Crown of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  The gun was knocked out of his hands, and his arms pulled behind him. What the fuck?

  Only after he’d been slammed to the ground and thoroughly stripped of every pistol and blade did he see someone grab the phone from his pocket. The screen glowed from the last text received, from the same unknown number:

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  He tried to think past the agony in his brain. After his rifle went off, the rest of his team was supposed to open fire on the crowd, then press forward into parliament where another three men had been hiding for two days. But outside the window were only voices and sirens. No gunfire.

  “We got him,” one of the assholes around him announced. “Building six all clear. Bring the rest to the U.N. outpost for detainment.”

  The rest? Does he mean my men? My father?

  “I presume you’re Raul Lozano.” A voice behind him with rank breath was far too close to his ear for comfort. The prick’s shoulder dug into his back. “We captured all your friends, thanks to the intel from Representative Arias. He’s alive, by the way.”

  Raul tried to mumble that son-of-a-bitch, but couldn’t move his mouth very well.

  All he could focus on, besides the pain, was the text. The unknown number. It had to be his brother. His father hadn’t mentioned anything on the phone about a betrayal. And if he knew there was an ambush waiting, he would have called it off. But Ricardo had nothing to gain by alerting his brother of this plot. They each wanted the other dead.

  What the hell just happened?

  The guards draped their bodies over the royal grouping and rushed them all inside the parliament gates. Alanna’s head pounded with adrenaline and outright terror. Even though she knew something was going to happen, there was really no way to prepare for it, beyond the Kevlar vests, tracking devices, and drones.

  With every ragged step toward the building, she gripped Flynn’s hand. He’d thrown his shoulder over her, shielding as much of her body as he could even though she, too, wore a Kevlar vest. Everyone did.

  Once inside, guards slammed the doors shut and rushed them to the secure room. More security ran back and forth in the hallways, barking orders into radios and repositioning snipers, as well as corralling parliament members in the main chamber.

  “Was anyone injured outside?” André’s face was white, but he was otherwise unharmed.

  Flynn cupped her cheeks in his palms and checked her for wounds.

  “I’m all right,” she panted. “You?”

  He nodded, and his sigh of relief matched her own. No matter how dangerous the situation was, he always looked so calm, hardly ever shaking, which was more than she could say for herself. He kissed her forehead, and slowly her heartbeat returned to normal.

  Stefano pressed his fingers to his ear, listening in the radio device. “So far, no. The shot came from Raul Lozano and took out the limo’s front tire.”

  “How many men did they capture?” André asked, attending to Gemma’s disheveled state. Her cheeks were rosy, and her hair in disarray, but she was holding up extremely well with all the chaos. Alanna was as impressed as she was relieved.

  “Forty-three,” Stefano replied.

  “Jesus.” Gemma shook her head. “You better hope those drones identified all the automatic weapons concealed in the crowd.”

  “Combined with satellite tracking, it was amazingly detailed.” The bodyguard checked his watch.

  “Amazingly stupid is what it was,” Gemma replied. “I really wish you would’ve let me take Lil’ Pete. An extra weapon to protect you both, especially from that many targets…this plan was crazy.”

  “But it worked,” André soothed.

  “At what risk?” She glared at him. “If the team was a half-second later, that bullet would’ve been in your head. Or Alanna’s.”

  When Gemma looked at her, the fear in her normally fearless gaze was unmistakable.

  Alanna sighed. “But the threat would’ve ended today. The risk, while great, was worth it.”

  Gemma’s eyes narrowed, and the fire for a fight raged behind them.

  “Arriving late as we did,” Stefano cut in. “Moving slowly, with the royal family emerging last, it all drew on Raul’s impatience, making him careless and unaware of the security team closing in. Once I confirmed the rifle sticking out of the window, the final wave moved in to take him out. And without Raul’s compatriots in the crowd, the risk was substantially lower. The plan worked.”

  “You’re certain you got everyone?” Gemma’s fierce eyes countered the panic in her voice.

  “There was no other gunfire,” André soothed. “And we have the head of the snake.”

  Alanna brushed off her silk business suit. Staying calm amid all the adrenaline was harder than she thought. “Not the head. But at the very least its largest fang.”

  “Your Highnesses.” A royal guardsman stepped forward in black Kevlar and with a massive weapon. “The commander from the U.N. forces requests postponing the vote until this evening. Give them time to sweep once more.”

  “Negative,” she replied before André could answer. The guard’s eyes widened. She forced confidence in place on her face, despite her lips thinning through it. “If none of the representatives were hurt, we’ll take our place inside the main chamber, and parliament must continue with the vote as planned.”

  The guard nodded and relayed the message in his radio. Alanna glanced around the circle of family members staring at her. She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you want this over with? No sense in delaying the inevitable.” She frowned.

  Flynn took her hand and patted her wrist. Such love and sympathy poured out of his eyes. She instantly calmed. Her heart was so thankful for him, despite being shattered. Everyone in the room felt it. Even though the plan had worked, and Raul Lozano no longer had free rein on the island, today was still a defeat. A defeat that would last forever.

  André kissed Gemma’s knuckles. “Let’s go face the music.”

  Alanna gave Flynn one last sad smile, which he sealed with a tender kiss. “Remember what I said,” he whispered. “Queen, or princess, or none of the above…”

  “You’re with me,” she finished. The same sweet words he’d pledged after he’d saved her life. She nearly broke right then.

  He nodded and kissed her once more.

  Moments later, they stared at the grand entrance of parliament’s main chamber, the room expanding before them in theater-style fashion. Perhaps the last time I’ll walk this aisle.

  Her brother and Gemma stood in front of them, about to lead the way, when André leaned into the blonde’s neck. Alanna couldn’t help overhear, despite his whisper.

  “Do you think you could still love me without the title?”

  Gemma smiled at him, a glimmer of playfulness in her stare. “I could care less about your crown,” she whispered back. “I want you for the sex.”

  André chuckled, careful to cover it with a small cough.

  Alanna held back a snort, and heat filled her cheeks. At least she can keep him relaxed.

  A voice boomed through the air. “Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince André Miguel Peralta, and Her Highness, Princess Alanna Safira Peralta.”

  All of the representatives stood and faced them, including Prime Minister Barilla at the front of the room.

  They slowly moved down the aisle, André and Gemma first hand-in-hand, followed by Flynn and Alanna, her head held high. Stefano and more guards trailed behind them. The chamber was eerily silent; the only sound was their thudding feet on the blue runner.

  At the end of the aisle, Flynn gave her hand one more squeeze with a final smile, and retreated to the private box to the side, where two chairs now sat. One for him, the other for Gemma.

  Both André and Alanna approached the speaker’s podium. They would open this parliament session together and witness the end of the Peralta rule together.

  She squeezed her brother’s hand. With their father and mother’s gazes bearing down on t
hem from the portrait over the balcony, she squared her shoulders and put on her perfected princess-smile.

  “Thank you all for your bravery and fortitude to continue on in your duties, despite the threat over all our heads,” André began. “The sacrifices have been great, and we have lost many whom we treasure.” He nodded to the handful of empty seats from the recent representative assassinations, giving their vacant seats the needed respect. “But their sacrifices have not been in vain.” He turned to Alanna.

  His expression was so strong, commanding, and graceful all at once. It nearly stole her breath.

  Now it was her turn.

  She addressed the congregation, praying her mother’s spirit could give her strength. “We are greatly relieved to announce that moments ago, the head terrorist from the Lozano cartel, Raul Lozano, has been captured.” The murmurings from around the room filled the air, growing louder. Alanna raised her hand to calm the chatter. “Over forty of his mercenaries have also been captured.” Applause scattered throughout the members. When it died down, Alanna’s tone softened further. “And we are also greatly relieved to announce that Representative Mathis Arias of the northern province is alive and safe.” She nodded to the doors, which swung open. The distinguished man in a crisp suit stepped forward, his smile grateful as the men around him clapped and shook his hand. Only a few bruises remained on his face, and a small bandage at his hairline. He made his way to the front, stopped in front of the podium, and bowed to his prince and princess. They nodded in return, and he resumed his assigned chair in the crowd.

  André moved closer to the microphone. “Prime Minister, you are free to open the floor and conduct this government’s business.”

  Barilla stood and bowed to the prince. André matched his motions, per protocol.

  “Regardless of what is determined today,” Alanna continued, “we thank you all for your service to this country. Its people thank you. You are all welcome to our family’s residence, as our friends and countrymen. Dios salve el Rey.”

  God save our king. The final blessing for their deceased father. Everyone stood and echoed her prayer. “Dios salve el rey.” Several more members shouted a second praise. “Dios salve a la Reina!”

  Alanna silently gasped. God save our queen.

  With a quick glance to André, she was stunned to see his smile full of pride staring back at her. Her heart warmed from the inside out, and she smiled at the crowd. Finally, a glimmer of hope.

  Queen. Could that mean they want us to stay?

  A loud bang shocked the room, and something splattered across her face. Then another bang, even louder than the first, and from the corner of her eye, André fell.

  Guards rushed from out of nowhere and flooded the platform.

  She screamed, and the guards knocked her over.

  Her face pressed into the carpet from the weight of the bodyguards pushing her down. “André! Answer me!”

  More deafening bangs filled the room, and Alanna flinched. Screams and shouts filled the air, and a flurry of movement hovered over her.

  “Are you hit?” someone asked close to her ear. Their voice shook.

  “André,” she wheezed. “André was hit…”

  Strong arms pulled her up and started to rush her out of the room. But her feet wouldn’t move. She strained against their hold to turn and see her brother. Between massive muscles and torsos blocking her view, Gemma cradled André’s form in her lap on the floor, her hands and dress smeared with red.

  Panic flooded her mind. Another scream threatened to erupt from her soul, but someone grabbed her chin and forced her to look away. Flynn’s face filled her gaze, his face ashen. “Right here, Alanna. Focus right here and nowhere else.”

  Something dragged down her face, then again, and once again. A cloth. Flynn wiped her cheeks with a cloth. She glanced down. The cloth was red.

  “HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE ANDRÉ was shot today at the parliament building while opening the legislative session at the Capitol.” The news anchor’s voice blared through the palace drawing room, where Gemma, Alanna, and Flynn all sat…waiting. “Three mercenaries left over from the Lozano cartel invasion were found inside the parliament chambers, and killed by security forces. The prince was taken to the hospital, where he was treated and released a few moments ago. He’d been wearing body armor under his clothes, and suffered only minor injuries.”

  Gemma scoffed and gripped the remote tighter.

  “Her Royal Highness Princess Alanna was not harmed in the attack, and only a few royal guardsmen received minor injuries.”

  Gemma shook her head. “Only by the grace of God is he still alive.”

  “Prior to the shooting, the cartel terrorist Raul Lozano was captured by security forces, along with forty-three conspirators, in an attempt to assassinate the royal family. Speaking on condition of anonymity, a credible source revealed the intel for this assassination attempt came from Representative Mathis Arias of the northern district, who overheard the plans during his failed assassination yesterday.”

  “Good Lord, that’s a mouthful.” Blood still marred Alanna’s blouse from the first shot grazing André’s ear. “I wonder who the anonymous source is.”

  “Stefano will find out.” Flynn scribbled in a journal from a sofa in the middle of the room. The whole day, he spoke only occasionally and with very few words. The man had a ridiculous calm demeanor that most of the time was helpful, even contagious at times. Except now. It grated on Gemma’s nerves. Everything grated on her—the sun was too bright, the air was too warm, and her meds too weak. Her brain was too focused on how much worse today could’ve been.

  She turned off the television and tossed the remote on the chaise. Peering out the window overlooking the Royal Square, dozens of reporters flashed cameras and stuck microphones in guards’ faces, all desperate to get a glimpse of the injured royal prince. Or a picture of the princess’s bloodied blouse.

  Gemma’s hands shook. She crossed her arms to hide them.

  “The doctors assured us he’s fine,” Alanna soothed. “The first bullet only grazed his ear. He’ll be out in a moment.”

  Gemma nodded but still chewed on her tongue. There was so much blood for just an ear graze. Had it not been for the Kevlar vest, the second bullet would’ve gone straight through his spine. She’d be throwing herself on a corpse, begging for him to come back. It was all too close to her childhood. “Will he always gamble?”

  Flynn’s pen stopped scratching on the paper, and Alanna sighed. Neither would look her in the eye.

  “Cards and horse races are one thing,” Gemma continued, swallowing back the rock in her throat. “But this was his life.” She turned to Alanna. “Your life. He was so careless. So willing to throw it all away, just to—”

  “To end the threat. For good.” The softness in the princess’s voice infuriated Gemma more.

  “How can you be so relaxed about this?”

  “I’m not.” Alanna’s smile was small, matching her voice. “I take this very seriously. But there is considerable relief in knowing this terrorist can no longer harm us. Or my people. André helped achieve that.”

  Gemma shook her head again. She’s still not getting it. “We can only afford one reckless person in our relationship. And I’ve already claimed that role. But two?” Her throat started to close up. “We won’t work. We’ll literally kill each other.”

  Alanna stood and slowly approached. Pity crossed her face, and Gemma couldn’t stand it. “You’re scared. I understand. You have every reason to be. But he’s alive. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “I’m not scared…I’m…” Her heart pounded, and nothing made sense. She felt like screaming, punching the wall, kicking the door, plugging a dozen slugs into a target.

  Alanna raised a perfect eyebrow.

  “I’m terrified,” Gemma whispered. Why does the world feel like it’s collapsing around me again?

  “Statistically speaking,” Flynn interjected, “following major
traumatic events, relationships only succeed when they rely more closely on each other, and their surrounding social network. Otherwise, most relationships dissolve. The further you push people away, the more likely both of you will mentally self-destruct.”

  Alanna and Gemma stared open-mouthed at him. He cleared his throat. “Psych 101 textbook.”

  “Did you swallow that textbook?” Gemma asked.

  Alanna smiled. “Flynn has an eidetic memory.”

  A knock interrupted them. A guard called through the door. “Rico Valéncia is here.”

  “Pase,” Alanna answered. The doors opened and Rico came through in his stable wear, complete with dusty boots. A strand of black hair fell over his eyebrow. He nodded to the princess, but his gaze settled on Gemma.

  “I heard about the attack,” he started. “I came to see if you needed me.”

  Gemma forced a deep breath. “He’ll be okay. Just a graze.” Her voice was strained, and her strength was failing.

  “I meant you,” he replied. Rico’s eyebrows crunched, and he stepped forward. He touched her shoulder. “Que necesitas, Gemmana?”

  What do you need, Gemma-sister. The familiar nickname felt good to hear. She hugged him. He smelled like hay, horses, and grass. It brought a tiny smile to her lips. She didn’t care that he was surprised by the gesture. Hugging was never in their repertoire of friendship, much preferring fake punches and sparring sessions. But he hugged her back and helped settle her nerves. He’d made a new life for himself, and he was happy. He’d thrive here.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  He nodded into her shoulder and pulled back. “Where is Stefano?”

  Gemma paused. Alanna gave her a wary look.

  “It’s okay. You can tell him. He won’t say anything.”

  Alanna sighed. “He’s prepping for a mission overseas. They leave in a few hours.”

  Rico looked to Gemma again. “Para que?”

  “Something dangerous.”

  “Are you okay with that?” he asked.

  “Do you think he’d care if I wasn’t?”