Protecting the Princess

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Protecting the Princess Page 5

by Rachelle Mccalla


  Kirk appreciated his parents’ devotion. He felt the same way. “Still, I think you should keep a low profile. Everyone knows how close you are to the king and queen.”

  “Many people are loyal to the king and queen. If the insurgents go after all of them, there will be no one left in Lydia,” Albert predicted.

  “Good point.” Kirk appreciated his father’s attitude. He stood and paced the room nervously. Much as he would have loved to learn more about what was going on, he’d promised Stasi he’d be back. And no one else knew where she was. If anything happened to him, she’d be on her own.

  “I should get back to Stasi. We’ll need food for a few days. And, Mother—” he looked up at the woman who, as the household manager for the entire palace, had access to nearly every room in the castle “—I don’t suppose there would be any way you could discreetly pack a bag for Stasi? Some of her own clothes and shoes? She’s in an evening gown right now.”

  Theresa’s eyes twinkled. “I always keep bags packed and waiting for every member of the royal family—for various occasions and seasons, no less. Give me five minutes.”

  While she was gone, Kirk and his father put together a bag of food supplies, a radio and plenty of batteries. Kirk was familiar with what Thad had left stowed on the island, which left more room for essentials.

  “You’ll want this.” Albert handed him a first-aid kit.

  “We’ve got Thad’s.”

  “And it’s six years old.” Albert shoved the first-aid kit into Kirk’s hands. “This one is fresh.”

  When Kirk reached for the kit, his father hesitated before handing it over. “You’re alone with the princess?”

  Kirk immediately knew what his father was thinking. The princess was far out of his league. She was to be given white-gloved treatment, always. He’d had lectures about it all the time as a child, especially as Stasi had blossomed into a lovely young woman. “She’s safe in my care,” he reassured his father, “from any threat.”

  “She’s royal. You’re not.” His father handed him the kit with warning in his voice. “Never forget that.”

  By the time Kirk had the bag ready, his mother was back. “There’s an unnatural amount of commotion over there, especially when you consider no one’s home.”

  “Did you learn anything new?” Kirk asked.

  Theresa shook her head adamantly. “I got out of there in a hurry. Didn’t like the feel of it. You’ve got to be careful.” His mother handed over the bag. “You don’t know what you’re up against. Things might not go the way you want them to.”

  Kirk backed away toward the door, giving each of his parents a hug on his way out. “Lydia is a Christian nation,” he reminded them. “God will watch over us.”

  “Depending on who has risen to power,” his father warned him, “Lydia may not be a Christian nation anymore.”

  FOUR

  Darkness. As long as Kirk kept his head down, he prayed the darkness would be enough to keep him disguised. He tossed the bags over the wall and followed them a second later. Much as he would have loved to learn more about what was afoot, too many people didn’t like him, and the situation was too volatile. He needed to get back to Stasi.

  Leaving the vehicle behind, Kirk opted for the flexibility and stealth of traveling by foot to where he’d left his boat at the marina. The warm June night was deceptively lovely.

  To his relief, Kirk didn’t see any unusual activity as he approached the marina. His boat bobbed exactly where he’d left it. Kirk climbed aboard and prepared to push off.

  “Where was she seen?”

  The question floated on the air from somewhere nearby, the words almost too faint to pick up in their entirety. Kirk’s hands stilled on the knot he’d been untying, and his ears pricked up for more.

  The voices grew clearer as two figures drew closer. “At the United States Embassy. According to Sergio, she stepped inside with her bodyguard. They were in and out so fast, the security camera didn’t pick up a decent image of either of them.”

  “Is that the same bodyguard she asked to have removed?”

  Tense laughter. “I think so.”

  “I wonder what’s up.”

  Kirk had been wondering as much, himself, and then some. Who were they talking about? Possibly Stasi’s mother or sister? He’d heard something about Princess Isabelle asking to have her bodyguard removed earlier in the week.

  The two men had walked down the pier, and now stood silently just out of sight. Kirk wanted to know more. Who were the men who were talking? Had another member of the royal family survived?

  It would make all the difference in the world to Stasi if he could bring her good news. He’d left her looking so forlorn. She’d be thrilled to hear someone had spotted her sister since the attacks—if that was, indeed, what the men had been discussing. But Kirk didn’t want to bring Stasi news that her sister might be alive, only to have her hopes dashed a second time if he’d assumed wrong.

  Kirk weighed his options. Should he try to talk to the men and learn more? Or should he head back to Stasi straightaway? It didn’t seem likely that talking to the men would lead to trouble, but then, Kirk had learned otherwise the hard way before.

  Kirk had been a member of the royal guard ever since he and Thaddeus had completed their training with the Lydian military at twenty-one. He’d never gotten along perfectly with all of his coworkers, first because he was best friends with the prince, and then because he’d been accused of killing him.

  Following Thad’s disappearance, Kirk had become a polarizing figure. Some saw him as a rebel and an inspiration. Others believed he was a traitor. Some were suspicious of him, and others jealous or annoyed by all the attention he received from the media. Many, he knew, were watching him, waiting for him to slip up and give away new evidence that would prove he’d killed Thaddeus.

  Would the men on the pier talk to him? Or would he only be giving himself away?

  Kirk prayed silently, his hands folded over the knot he’d been working on. Lord, what should I do?

  The two men had reached the end of the pier, and now their footfalls indicated they were headed back his way. Kirk stepped back into a shadow and watched the men as they passed by.

  He knew them! They were members of the royal guard—Jason and Linus, two men who’d always seemed to get along well enough with him, even after Thad’s disappearance. The pair continued down toward the boardwalk, and were nearly out of sight again. Kirk leaped back up onto the dock and hurried after them, clearing his throat to let them know he was approaching.

  The men spun around, clearly on their guard.

  “Jason, Linus.” Kirk held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Good to see you two.”

  “Kirk?” Linus was clearly surprised to see him. “I heard you were dead.”

  Before Kirk could explain, Jason grabbed his arm. “You might want to get out of here.”

  “Why? What—”

  Jason cut him off. “We arranged to meet a couple of members of the royal guard. I’m hoping to learn more about what’s been happening.” He shook his head, as though there were more to explain, but no time for it. “Word is, Viktor Bosch is looking for you. You were seen leaving the palace with Anastasia. There’s a price on your head.”

  Even as he spoke, headlights swept across the marina. Kirk froze. Bosch was the head of the royal guard. When Kirk had been reinstated to his position, Bosch had been furious.

  Linus gave them both a grim look. “That’s our boys.”

  The car stopped with its headlights trained on Kirk’s face, and the doors flew open.

  About to run toward his boat, Kirk was stopped by Jason’s grip on his arm. “Not that way. They’ll have recognized you already.”

  Kirk glanced around the
marina. Jason was right. If he ran toward his boat, they might follow him, or guess he’d taken the princess out to sea. From there, it would be only a matter of time until they checked Dorsi. No, heading that direction didn’t seem wise.

  “I’m off then. Nice chatting with you.” He threw a deliberately casual wave over his shoulder and pointed his face away from the approaching figures, taking off at a relaxed stride down the boardwalk.

  “You, there.”

  Kirk pretended not to hear. What choice did he have? It was that or run, and if there was a price on his head, running would only invite more trouble.

  An overhead light illumined far more of his path than he wanted.

  “Covington!”

  A spur of pier bisected the boardwalk. Kirk turned down that way, picking up his pace, hoping to reach the shadows of the yachts farther down the dock. Two royal guard Jet Skis bobbed in the water at the end of the pier, next to a royal guard motorboat. The royal guard had always maintained a coast guard element, a remnant from the centuries before when the royal family had lived on Dorsi.

  If he could just reach the watercrafts, Kirk hoped he might be able to get away.

  Boots pounded down the hollow boardwalk behind him.

  “Covington!”

  They were closing in on him. Kirk sprinted down the pier, but the Jet Skis were still fifty meters away, and his options were few. He’d left his boat down a different pier. And heading out to sea might point his pursuers toward Stasi. Should he even try it?

  He could hear the men breathing just behind him. Fingers swiped at the back of his shirt.

  He was never going to reach the Jet Skis—wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He spun to the side. There was nothing left but the Mediterranean. Kirk dived into the open water.

  When the moon rose high in the sky, Anastasia climbed the queen’s tower and found the view, as Kirk had promised, to be breathtaking. She could see the glittering lights of Sardis far in the distance, and said a prayer for the safety of her family.

  Had Kirk arrived safely in Sardis? She wondered if he was there now. At the thought of him her heart began to beat rapidly.

  For the last six years she had hated him, refused to speak to him, walked away whenever he entered a room. She’d felt he’d betrayed the trust of her family by murdering her brother.

  But her brother was not dead. In fact, it occurred to her, in being far away from Sardis when the attack took place, Thad’s life had been spared.

  So Stasi had Kirk to thank for both their lives.

  She looked down from the other window of the tower into the former castle yard. Much more remained of the stone structure than she’d imagined. It had once been a formidable fortress, and was still an architectural masterpiece of great beauty, stonework jutting up from solid rock as though it had grown there. On the far side of the tower battlement, the castle overlooked cliffs that fell way into deep darkness. Far, far below, she could hear the steady wash of waves against the rocks.

  No wonder Thaddeus had loved it there. Their ancestors had done an amazing job building the castle during the early centuries of Lydia’s history. Though she understood that the castle had become roughly inaccessible as storms washed away the stretch of land that had once connected it to the mainland, she still felt a pang of regret that it had ever been abandoned.

  But then, if the fortress on Dorsi had never been abandoned, she would not have had a place to hide. So perhaps, she realized, she ought to be grateful that no one ever visited the place.

  She said her morning prayers as the sun rose, its gentle pink streaks coloring the Mediterranean with the promise of a lovely day. She resolved to try to enjoy the island, as Kirk had suggested. In a way, it reminded her of her childhood exploits with Kirk and her siblings, exploring the expansive palace grounds.

  Back then they’d only pretended to have such an adventure. Now she was living it, but she’d gladly give it up in exchange for seeing everyone alive again.

  As the sun began to creep higher in the sky, Stasi wondered if Kirk’s absence was a bad sign. She tried to tell herself that he must have discovered so much that he was trying to uncover the whole plot against her family before coming back for her. But she knew that couldn’t be it. Even if Kirk had been delayed himself, if it was safe for her to return to Sardis, he’d have sent someone for her.

  No, his absence hinted that things were far worse in the capital city than she’d feared.

  One other difficulty plagued her. She’d realized she owed Kirk an apology for treating him so harshly. When everyone had turned against him, she should have given him the benefit of the doubt. She’d always known him to be a man of integrity, with total loyalty to the crown. Why had she been so quick to believe the accusations against him?

  Kirk tried to propel himself forward with a few strong kicks, but his clothes and shoes weighed him down. When he pulled his head up for air, the glance he stole behind him told him he hadn’t made it very far.

  The foreboding clatter of a boat motor chugging to life told him he might not make it much farther.

  The royal guard motorboat slapped waves crossways as it fought its way toward him, its searchlight cutting through the darkness, homing in on him. As it pulled closer, Kirk gulped a breath and descended, kicking his way down into the cooler depths.

  He looked up through the churning water. The blades of the outboard motor cut through the water above him. Bright light penetrated the sea, the leering faces of the men above him distorted by the water.

  Wishing he could stay underwater forever, Kirk tried to swim away from the men, but it was all he could do to keep his head down. When his lungs demanded air and he pulled his head up for a quick gulp, before he could duck back down again, rough hands pulled him by his shirt collar, nearly choking him.

  They threw him onto the boat. Before Kirk could get enough of a breath to think straight, a harsh voice demanded, “Hold him for me,” and while two figures stilled his fighting, another man delivered several blows to his midsection.

  He couldn’t get a decent look at any of them. They had the bright searchlight pointed at his face.

  “The princess was seen departing in your company. Where is she?” a voice demanded.

  Kirk could see nothing beyond the glaring light.

  “I asked you a question! Where is she?” The question was followed by a ringing blow across his jaw.

  Even if he could have formed a coherent response, Kirk was determined to keep his mouth shut. The man didn’t need further provocation. As fists pummeled him one after another, Kirk wondered if the men weren’t intent on beating him to death.

  “Bosch is on his way,” one of the men reported, as his attacker sent another stinging blow across his face. “Leave the torture to him. He’s wanted to get his hands on Covington for a long time. Let’s bring him in.”

  The boat chugged back toward the dock, and one of his attackers sent another blow across Kirk’s face. “And don’t even think about trying to get away!”

  They shoved him up on the dock, and Kirk stumbled reluctantly forward while trying to think how to escape. He needed to get back to Stasi. He knew how frightened she must be. If he didn’t return, she’d be on her own. Worse yet, Thad might follow up on his request to send someone for her, which could potentially expose him to detection.

  The men reached the boardwalk, and Kirk realized it might only be a matter of minutes before Viktor Bosch, the perpetually belligerent head of the royal guard, arrived. Bosch had long made his resentment toward Kirk perfectly clear. Kirk suspected the man’s bitterness extended beyond having a judge order Kirk reinstated in the guard. Viktor’s animosity ran deep.

  Just as Kirk contemplated trying to fight off the four men who held him, a sound off to his right caught his attention. Spinning sideways, he used the d
istraction to his advantage, catching the man on his right in the gut with his knee before knocking him cold.

  He spun back the other way. Two figures had arrived, exchanging blows with his captors. Kirk approached the remaining man, but the figure held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

  “I was only following orders.”

  Kirk stared at him a moment longer. He knew the man, but only by sight. It was too much to try to sort out who was on whose side, and when he nodded, the man ran off. One of his attackers staggered into him, reeling backward from a blow.

  For the first time, Kirk got a good look at the two men who’d come to his aid.

  Linus and Jason.

  “I told you to get out of here,” Jason reminded him.

  A pinprick of distant headlights pierced the predawn darkness of the hillside.

  “You two should go, too.” Kirk tried to catch his breath, realizing for the first time that he was bleeding from a split lip.

  Linus knocked his attacker cold. “We’re going.”

  “The woman.” Kirk remembered just in time. “At the embassy? I heard you talking—”

  Jason and Linus were already on their way down the boardwalk, and the attacker who’d surrendered was already long gone. There was no one to overhear them. “Princess Isabelle,” Linus called over his shoulder. “She’s on the run.”

  “Thank you.” Kirk sprinted back toward the dock where his boat was moored, fighting the throbbing pain that pounded up from each place he’d been struck. The headlights neared the marina, and he wouldn’t have much time.

  Untying his boat, he started his trolling motor and clung to the rail as stars danced across his vision. The pinch he felt with each ragged breath told him he’d cracked a rib in all the abuse he’d taken from those men.

  But it told him one other thing, a far more ominous portent than the likelihood of a painful recovery. Whoever was behind the attack on the royal family meant business. And they had plenty of power on their side to enforce it.

 

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