The Missing Monarch

by Rachelle Mccalla

  * * *

  They found his siblings gathering in the family dining room for breakfast. To Thad’s surprise, an older couple sat among them, leaping up the moment Monica entered the room.

  “Mom? Dad?” Monica’s mouth dropped, but as she stumbled toward them her smile grew. “How did you get here?”

  “We took a flight the moment you said our grandson’s disappearance had to do with all the news you’d been watching about the upheaval in the kingdom of Lydia,” Richard Miller pronounced, scowling at Thad as he leaned toward his wife. “You’re right, darling. The picture on Peter’s nightstand does bear remarkable resemblance to the missing Lydian prince.”

  “Are you all right?” Sheila Miller reached toward Monica with open arms, but stepped back when her daughter grabbed her broken arm and winced.

  “My arm—” she looked at her father, who was a doctor “—I think it may be broken.”

  “Then we’ll have to get you to a hospital,” Richard Miller stated with authority, casting a stern look at Thad.

  For a moment, Thad thought about apologizing for leaving Monica alone and pregnant so many years before and for the connections that had resulted in Peter’s kidnapping. The fact that her arm was likely broken didn’t help matters. But Monica’s parents appeared as though they were ready to take her to the hospital that very moment, and Thad knew a proper apology would take time, as would proper introductions.

  “Shall we head for the hospital now?” Richard asked Monica.

  “Yes. We need to hurry so I can get back here.” She looked at Thad, her eyes brimming with understanding and—could it be?—love. If that’s what he saw there, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

  He brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead as she stepped past him.

  * * *

  Thad handed over the scepter to his brother.

  Alec gave him a wry smile. “I was shot and tortured for this.” He rolled it between his hands, inspecting the crown-shaped head.

  “Keep it safe.” Ravenous, Thad peeled a banana and took a bite. “Has anything happened while I was gone?”

  Levi cleared his throat. “My father’s been looking into Octavian’s holdings. He forwarded me a list of some of the companies Octavian controls.”

  Thad took the sheaf of papers from his sister’s fiancé and flipped through them, spotting the name of his satellite phone provider. He shared his suspicions with the others. “Octavian’s men caught up to me the moment I got my hands on the scepter. I figured he must have tracked me through my phone, but I didn’t know how.”

  “If he owns the satellites, which it appears he does, he could follow your phone with tremendous precision,” Levi confirmed.

  “I’ve taken the battery out. Will that stop him?”

  “It should.”

  “That’s something, at least. What time is it?”

  “Nearly seven o’clock.” Stasi consulted a bracelet-style watch on her wrist. “We have just over five hours until the exchange. Why don’t you go take a shower? You look terrible.”

  Thad caught his reflection in a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. His sister was right. He didn’t want his little boy to see him for the first time looking like this. Peter was already likely to be frightened enough. “I’ll take a quick shower and change clothes. Then I want to meet back here.”

  “To plot our strategy?” Alec clarified.

  “Yes.” Thad swallowed. He’d told Monica he was tired of hiding—from her, and from God. “And to pray.”

  * * *

  Monica fought against the heavy veil of sleep. She needed to protect Peter. She needed to support Thad. There wasn’t time for rest. Granted, they’d put her under while they reset the bone in her arm, but she’d roused enough to drink a sip of something fruity her mother had held for her. Surely an hour or more had passed. She needed to get back to the palace. She couldn’t be late.

  What was happening now?

  Opening her eyes with effort, Monica looked around the small recovery room for any sign of her parents. Where were they?

  Had they left her? They wouldn’t leave her alone—not unless something more important had come up. But what could be more important at this point? Only the exchange with Octavian, but that wasn’t until noon.

  Wait—what if it was noon already? She’d told her parents of all that had happened, and stressed the importance of getting back to the palace well ahead of noon. Surely her parents hadn’t left her to rest and miss the exchange!

  A jolt of fear shot through her, and she opened her eyes wide.

  There was someone in her room after all. With effort, Monica managed to turn her head slightly to one side. The broad-shouldered figure reminded her of Thad, but she quickly realized it wasn’t him.

  “General Petrela?” Her voice sounded surprisingly weak.

  He’d brought a wheelchair in and parked it next to her bed. “I told you earlier you need to trust me. We have to go.”

  “Without my parents? Where are they? Where are we going?”

  Suddenly he reached for her, and she instinctively pulled away, but his arms encircled her in spite of her feeble resistance. Was he trying to kidnap her?

  “You had the chance to come nicely. I don’t have time to explain.”

  Still groggy, Monica pushed at him, and tried to protest, but the general covered her mouth with a scented cloth like the one her kidnappers had used when they’d taken her during her morning run. No! She held her breath and tried to fight, to cry out, to stop him from taking her away. Then she choked on her breath and everything went dark again.

  ELEVEN

  “Have you seen Monica? Do you know where she is?”

  Interrupted in the midst of his prayer time with his family, Thad’s already-exhausted mind was slow to identify the caller. The voice was familiar...Richard Miller, and he sounded frantic.

  “I thought she was with you, at the hospital.” Thad pulled Stasi’s arm close and squinted at the delicate numbers on her watch. They had less than two hours before Octavian’s arrival. He’d expected Monica to return anytime.

  “Sheila and I were at her bedside when a nurse brought us a note from your mother. It said your father was awake and wanted to speak with us.”

  “What?” Thad felt his blood run cold.

  “But he wasn’t. He’s still in a coma, though his vital signs are improving. I’m afraid the note was a ruse to get us away from Monica.”

  His head spinning from the sudden rush of fear, Thad tried to piece together what Richard was saying. “Monica is missing?”

  “When we returned to her room, she was gone.”

  Sheila Miller’s voice cut in. “But her shoes were still there. She wouldn’t have gone far barefoot.”

  “Not on her own,” Thad acknowledged, quickly surmising what had happened. When Octavian’s men failed to take the scepter the night before, Octavian would have felt the loss and wanted a stronger bargaining position. His men could have easily guessed that Monica had been injured.

  And Octavian had connections at the hospital—or at the very least, Lucca had. Thad wished he’d thought to send some of his father’s guards to watch over Monica’s room, but he’d been too exhausted to think. He’d assumed she was safe with her parents. Too late, he realized he’d never even briefed them on the situation. He’d been too ashamed to face them. With regret, he realized part of him was still trying to hide.

  “Keep looking for her. I can dispat
ch security to scour the hospital.” Thad winced at the thought of losing more manpower at the worst possible time. He needed every man he had to cover the palace.

  “I really don’t think we’re going to find her here.”

  Thad groaned as his heart began to mourn for Monica. Why had he let her out of his sight? “Come on back to the palace, then. We’ve only got a couple of hours.”

  As he closed the call, a wave of despair passed over him, and he pinched his eyes shut. In spite of all his efforts to remain emotionally detached, he’d allowed himself to fall right back in love with Monica, to hope against all hope that somehow, things might work out between them.

  Arms wrapped around him, and he opened his eyes to see his siblings surrounding him.

  “Monica’s been kidnapped?” Isabelle clarified.

  Thad tried to answer, but his nodding head sagged against the arms that supported him, and he felt his anger and despair rising up with the hot tears that flooded his eyes. He clutched the scepter, realizing that, for all his efforts to retrieve it, he still hadn’t saved his family. Octavian had both Monica and Peter now.

  “Dear God, we ask for Your guidance and strength.” Alec’s deep voice rumbled beside him, and his sisters and their fiancés joined in, their voices blended in chorus as each of them poured out their hearts for the welfare of his wife and son.

  Though it exposed his deepest fears and the parts of his heart he’d tried hardest to hide, Thad forced his lips to utter honest words as he whispered a plea to God.

  * * *

  “Mommy, wake up. Mommy?”

  Monica rolled over, away from the nudge against her shoulder.

  “Mommy, wake up.”

  “Mmm.” She pinched her eyes shut. “Do you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?”

  “Mommy!” Peter’s voice sounded incredulous. “You can’t make waffles here.”

  Suddenly Monica remembered, and sat bolt upright. She wasn’t at home in Seattle. It wasn’t a lazy summer morning. Her world had been upended, her son kidnapped, and now she was with him again. She’d been kidnapped, too.

  She pulled him into her arms and covered his head with kisses. “Peter! Are you okay? I’m so glad to see you, I missed you so much!”

  Peter basked for a moment in her attention, then batted away her kisses. “I’m okay, Mommy. Natalie has been watching me. We flew in a plane and we got to go to the beach!”

  “The beach.” Monica felt the fear-wedged tension leave her body like a sigh. Her little boy hadn’t been terrified. He’d missed her, but he’d been enjoying the beach and the plane ride. And he trusted his favorite babysitter, a standout student in the foreign languages department where Monica taught. “Where is Natalie?”

  “Out here.” Peter led her out of the room where she’d been sleeping, to a comfortable-looking, carpeted living room, where an elaborate train set filled most of one end of the room, a stack of children’s books teetered near the sofa, and a large-screen television with a home entertainment system occupied most of one wall, its screen dark.

  Monica smiled. Natalie knew Peter wasn’t supposed to watch more than a half hour of television. The babysitter jumped up from the couch the moment she spotted Monica.

  “Let me show you what my train does!” Peter leaped at the toy and quickly got to work setting the pieces where he wanted them.

  “Okay, you show me.” Monica knew it might take her son several minutes before he was ready to give his train presentation. She turned to Natalie, whose eyes were wide with fright.

  “What’s happened, Professor Miller? Strange men gave me a note written in Old Lydian. They said it was from you. The note claimed you’d been injured and needed me to bring Peter to you, but I didn’t expect we’d be leaving the country.” She looked at the cast on Monica’s arm. “You were injured. But what are we doing halfway around the world, and who is the creepy guy with the orange face?”

  “Octavian?” Monica got a word in when her frantic student paused to breathe. “He can’t be trusted.”

  Her words seemed to confirm Natalie’s fears. “I should have stopped to think. Peter was at your parents’ house. But you’re the only person I know who knows Old Lydian, so I thought the note must really be from you. And I was so worried when they said you were hurt, all I could think of was getting Peter to you quickly, and keeping him from being frightened.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped a tear away quickly as though Peter might see.

  “Natalie.” Monica patted her shoulder, regretfully realizing Octavian would have had no trouble spotting the connection between Peter and Natalie. The babysitter was often at their house. And Natalie’s dissertation project, comparing Old Lydian with Ancient Greek, had recently been featured on the department website. “You didn’t know. I probably would have fallen for an Old Lydian note, too. I’m glad you kept Peter from getting scared.”

  Natalie sniffled and glanced at Peter, who was absorbed in playing with the train. The babysitter leaned a little closer to Monica and spoke quietly, her voice still trembling. “What is going on? I think we’re being held prisoner, and I’m pretty sure we’re somewhere off the coast of Greece, but I can’t begin to imagine why.”

  In between clapping for Peter and encouraging him in his game, Monica explained to Natalie the situation with Octavian, her history with Thaddeus and the impending showdown that was rapidly approaching.

  Natalie’s eyes grew wider and wider behind her glasses as she absorbed everything Monica said, asking clarifying questions at some of the more confusing parts. She pulled an album from the stack of books near the sofa.

  “So, this is Octavian.” She pointed to a picture of the man, heavily airbrushed to make him look better.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve met him a few times. He’s seemed quite eager to make a favorable impression on Peter. He gave him the train set and lots of other toys. He told me to show him this album—the captions make all these men sound like heroes.”

  Monica absorbed the news without surprise. “He’s already trying to win him over so he can control him. He wants Peter to admire him and his coconspirators.” The thought made her feel sick to her stomach. Octavian was essentially trying to brainwash her impressionable young son.

  Natalie flipped through the album to another page. “Who’s this guy?”

  “General Marc Petrela.” At the sight of the man’s picture, Monica recalled the way he’d abruptly pulled her from the hospital, and the memory doused her with a fresh wave of fear. She’d been so relieved to see Peter safe and sound, she’d lost track of time. “Why do you ask?”

  Natalie’s eyes narrowed and her voice dropped to a faint whisper, while she quickly flipped the album to a random page, almost as though she was afraid someone might see the picture and guess who she was talking about. “He said some things—” She shook her head. “I didn’t understand what he was getting at, but it makes more sense now that you’ve told me the rest of what’s been going on.”

  “What did he say?” Monica felt her pulse rate rise. She’d long been wondering whether Petrela could be trusted. Since he’d kidnapped her from the hospital, she was ready to believe he was working for Octavian and had no intention of helping Thad and his family regain the crown, but she was eager to hear what Natalie had to say.

  “I think he was trying to warn me not to trust Octavian. He said he wanted me to pass Peter to him during the exchange, that he’d—” She squinted, clearly trying to recall the precise word
s the man had used. “He said he’d cover him. What does that mean?”

  “The exchange.” Monica had kept her eyes open for a clock since she’d entered the room, but had seen no sign of one. “What time is it? Saturday at noon, Octavian is planning to meet at the palace throne room, to exchange Peter for the scepter. And today is Saturday.”

  “It’s got to be nearly noon now. They took my phone when we boarded the plane and I haven’t seen it since, but the sun is rising high in the sky.”

  “Then we should be leaving soon.” Monica swallowed back her fear. Was Octavian going to keep his promise to exchange Peter for the scepter, or had everything he’d said been a lie? And even if the madman followed through and handed Peter over to Thaddeus, what would become of her?

  * * *

  Thad opened the conference room cabinet that held the whiteboard, grabbed a marker and drew a line down the middle. They had just over an hour before Octavian arrived.

  Kirk had brought in the newly appointed head of the royal guard, a man named Jason, as well as his right-hand man, Linus. Alec brought in his most trusted men from the army, Titus and Julian, and they worked together with the guard officials to position their men to defend the throne room, as well as the palace itself.

  “We’ll have all entrances and exits covered ten men deep. No one will get in or out of the palace without our permission,” Alec assured his brother.

  “If your wife and son arrive with Octavian, we won’t let them leave again,” Kirk assured him.

  Thad wanted to believe it would be that easy. He prayed that Peter and Monica would be all right. More than that, he begged God to give him a second chance.

  But now, alone with just his brother and sisters, their fiancés and Dom Procopio, Thad couldn’t stand still. He was determined to make every possible preparation in hopes of keeping Peter and Monica safe.