by Jillian Dodd
The Prince nods, reaches out of the passageway, and moves the tail of a hunting dog carved into an ornate piece of art. Another panel within the passageway we are in slides open slowly as the panel to the War Room closes. It's obvious it's rarely used. I take that as a good sign. I also don't remember this being in anything I read, and I'm hoping it's very much a secret.
I hear the sound of boots thumping on the marble floor and then the War Room door bursting open.
The Prince's eyes get huge. I slap my hand across his mouth to make sure he stays silent. If the gunmen were to hear us, all it would take is a machine gun aimed at the wall to take us both out. The only thing between us and them is a thin wooden panel.
Shots are haphazardly fired into the room, so I pull the Prince into the other passageway, relieved to find it made of stone.
While I'm glad the gunmen can't see us, I hate that I can't see them. I feel blind and part of me would rather face them.
But it's imperative that I get the Prince somewhere safe first.
We move quickly down the passage and cover a good distance.
I stop for a moment to take my phone out, hoping to call for help.
Of course, there are no bars.
The Prince grabs me, pushes me against the wall, and kisses me. I can feel his heart racing. I tilt my face and allow my lips to brush across his. I've studied what stress chemicals do to the body: a heightened state of awareness, the fight or flight instinct, and a rush of adrenaline. The Prince responds as many a man who fears for his life might--who fears this might be the last time he touches a woman. His hands roughly caress the length of my body as he tightens our embrace.
In this moment, he's forgotten he's a Prince in danger and is acting like just a man.
As much as I am enjoying it, I can't acquiesce. I press my palm against his chest and push him away.
"There has to be more to the poem. Where is the end and what do you do when you get there?"
He bobs his head, and I can tell he's mentally singing the song again. Finally he says, "I'm supposed to sound the alarm."
I have no idea what that means. The last thing I want to do is sound an alarm that will reveal our exact location, but I'll worry about that when we get there. "Then we must go."
I pull on his hand, but he pulls me back to his lips. "I'd rather kiss you."
"Lorenzo, we need to get you somewhere safe."
"Yes. You are right."
We race through the tunnel, for at least half a mile. Most of it downhill. Like we're heading into town.
Before I can stop him, he pulls a string causing a loud alarm to sound. Shit!
"What happens when you do that?" I yell.
"I'm not sure," he admits. "I've never done it before."
"Is there more to the poem?"
He nods and recites. "Sound the alarm. Call up the Core. Help waits beyond the door."
"And you have no idea what lies beyond the door?"
"No, but we seem to have gone downhill, toward town."
"Do you have any weapons?"
"No," he says. But I do. I'm wearing my father's watch. "How is it that you are so calm? I'm freaking out."
"We're safe right now, Lorenzo," I say softly.
"This isn't the way I wanted our date to go," he smiles and trails a finger across my lips, his confidence returning, "although, there is some thrill in danger. Our kiss in the tunnel was exquisite."
"And that is apparently why the papers say you are a daredevil Prince with no regard for his country."
He kisses me again. "You're strong under pressure. You'd make a good princess."
"Let's see what's behind the door," I tell him.
I'm not about to let him get shot and ruin my chances of being a part of Black X permanently.
I discreetly turn my watch dial to midnight and stand with my back against the wall.
"Wait. I should go first," he says.
"You're the future King. No way I'm going to risk a whole country hating on me. I'm going first."
I open the door, sweep the room, and find that we are safe, inside the bedroom of a home located in town.
He grins. Looks at the bed. Looks at me. Raises his eyebrows. "A bed. How convenient."
I don't bother to reply. I need to sweep the rest of the home.
Once I determine that we are safe and alone, I say, "Now what?"
"I don't know. I need to go back to the castle and check on my parents. I'll make a call." He pulls his phone out of his pocket.
"Don't!" I grab it from his hand, turn it off, take out the SIM card, and smash it into bits. "Sorry, but you can be tracked by that, and we just got you somewhere safe."
"You are very resourceful," he says, curiously.
"Girl Scout." I shrug like this is basic knowledge then use my phone to call Ari, waiting impatiently as the call is routed through an untraceable network.
"Where the hell are you?" Ari yells at me before I can say anything. "There were shots fired at the castle. The Prince is unaccounted for. The Prince's guard is freaking out trying to find him."
"I'm with the Prince."
"Are you secure?"
"Yes. Please let his bodyguard know. Are his parents alright?"
"Yes, they are."
"What happened?"
"Two men apparently were part of a tour group. They broke away and breached a private part of the castle. Had assault weapons. The press was reporting live as they were there doing an interview with the Queen. There are some injuries but no casualties. The guards were wearing Kevlar. That's all I know."
"Thanks, Ari."
"Well?" the Prince says expectantly when I end the call.
"Two men who were part of a tour group got in. Your parents are fine."
"And the assailants?"
"Not sure. But you can use my phone to call and find out."
X X X
A motorcade picks us up and returns us to the castle, which is bursting at the seams with military.
I'm taken away from the Prince upon arrival and placed in a room by myself. It's a gorgeous room, formerly the Queen's study. I know it contains a secret passageway that leads to the kitchen, should I need to escape. But since there's a guard standing watch at my door, I'm feeling a little like the enemy, rather than the girl who saved the Prince.
I still have my phone, which is dangling from my shoulder in a Dolce & Gabbana chain wallet. I open it, pulling out a pair of earbuds and then hitting the eavesdropping app on my phone, which now allows me to overhear the conversation taking place next door.
"You can't just take off like that!" someone says.
"And you shouldn't allow him out of your sight!" an older voice booms. "You weren't doing your job."
"He doesn't allow me inside when he takes women in the bedroom," the man replies curtly. That must be his personal bodyguard.
"Prince Lorenzo, this has to stop. You are going to be the King--God help us--of our great nation. You need to stop putting yourself at risk where women are concerned. Our investigators are researching this girl's background with a fine-toothed comb. I can't help but think she had something to do with this. It's too much of a coincidence."
"She helped me escape," the Prince says.
"And how did she do that?" the deep voice asks, thick with doubt.
The Prince explains that I suggested a passageway.
"How would she even know about them?"
"She's a history buff and had read up on the castle."
"Why was she here with you? Who is she, really?"
"You think she had something to do with this?" the Prince asks.
"Don't you think it's a little odd this girl you just met asks for a tour of the castle and then we are attacked?"
"No, I don't, because she didn't ask for one. She already bought tickets to the public tour. I offered to bring her here."
I hear an audible sigh on the other end. "Lorenzo, women are your weakness. Why don't you run along now while we question h
er?"
Ooh, I don't know who that guy is, but I don't think he should be talking to the future King that way. Although, I agree with him on all accounts. The Prince's careless ways make him an easy target.
"Why aren't you questioning the men you captured?"
"Because we didn't capture them, we shot them. They're both dead."
"Then you're not talking to Huntley without me present."
"Very well. Let's go chat with her together."
I quickly close the app, turn on some music, and pretend not to hear them enter.
The Prince touches my shoulder, and I fake a little jump. "Oh, gosh, you scared me." I take out my earbuds and put them away.
The Prince takes my hand, turning me toward a broad-chested man in military shirtsleeves. Based on the stars on his uniform, I'd say he's important. "Huntley, this is General Agueda of the Montrovian army. He would like to ask you a few questions."
"Um, okay. What's up?" I say, while running my free hand through my hair, fluffing it and looking unconcerned.
"How did you end up at the castle today?" he asks.
"Well, my brother and I were having a party at our villa. Daniel and--"
"Daniel?"
"Spear, sir. The Vice President of the United States' son. Anyway, he and the Prince crashed our party, and Daniel introduced us. We talked, had some champagne, he asked what I planned to do during my visit, and I told him about my plans, which included going on the castle tour. He offered to give me a private one."
The man keeps staring at me, so I continue.
"Then I drove us here, got to meet the King and show him my car--oh gosh, tell me my car didn't get shot."
"It did not," he says. "The breach was between the public part of the castle and the Prince's residence."
I already know that based on where the shots were coming from, but I don't say that. That's not something a normal girl would probably know, plus I need intel. "What happened?"
"Let's not worry about that. How is it you met the Prince again?"
"Why does it sound like--wait, you keeping me in this room for the last hour and now the questions. You don't think I had anything to do with whatever happened, do you?" I widen my eyes and turn to the Prince. "Does he? Do you? You were going out there! I stopped you!"
I clench my jaw and cross my arms in apparent outrage at my realization, looking pissed and betrayed.
"I'd like to go home now."
"We aren't finished questioning you," the general says.
"Fine. You may finish questioning me, but I won't answer another question if I have to look at him while doing so." I nod toward the Prince.
"Huntley, I'm--" the Prince says.
I give him a defiant look and flip him the bird, causing the general to shoo him out of the room.
I'm questioned for another thirty minutes--where I learn nothing new--before I'm allowed to get in my car and drive home.
X X X
I pass through the gates of the villa and pull the car into the garage, hoping Ari has learned more than I have about the attack.
"Do you know anything?" I ask, plopping down on the couch, happy to see that the news of the castle assault caused the party to dwindle down to nothing.
"Only what we have learned on the news, which isn't much. You were there, what happened?"
"Two gunmen with automatic weapons entered the hallway that connects to the Prince's residence. They were moving down the hall, room by room from the sound of it, and in a very military fashion."
"Do we know where they are holding them?"
"At the morgue, I assume. They're dead."
"How do you know that?"
I hold up my phone. "Eavesdropping app."
"So now what?"
"I think we talk about the Prince. He's reckless. His bodyguard does whatever the Prince tells him to do, whether or not it's in his best interest. I didn't study up on the Palace Guard, but the fact that the gunmen were able to get inside the palace is pretty concerning, but then I drove in with the Prince, and no one checked me or my car for bombs or weapons. Once inside, I had free run of the place."
"That is concerning," Ari agrees. "We're just going to have to stay close to him in order to protect him. I really thought an attempt on his life would happen during an event outside the castle."
"Do you think they planned to shoot him or kidnap him?"
"What makes you ask that?"
"I can't imagine what their escape plan would have been for a kidnapping," I say.
"Maybe they knew it was a suicide mission. If a terror organization is behind this, that would make sense."
"Or maybe they knew about the passageways and assumed, like I did, there was a secret one only the Prince would know about."
"Why would they want to kidnap him though? That doesn't make sense. I think they were there to kill."
"I don't know. Control him. Threaten him. Make him do what they want," I suggest.
"Or maybe this was a dry run to see how far they could get. It's not like the Montrovian military protocol is on the Internet like the Secret Service."
"A dry run for what exactly?" I ask.
"Maybe they were looking for a place to plant a bomb. The Queen's Ball is the week's big finale. Remember we talked about a bomb as a possible way to take out most of the Montrovian heirs to the throne?"
"I don't know," I disagree. "We were told the threat was specific to the Prince."
Ellis joins us, bringing a decanter of water and a tray of sandwiches.
"What I wouldn't give for a Jersey Mike's right now," Ari says.
"What is that?" Ellis asks.
"The most amazing sub sandwich you have ever tasted. I get the Giant, over a foot long full of turkey and provolone and done up Mike's way with onions, lettuce, tomatoes, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and spices. It's heaven on bread."
Ellis points at the tray of petite, crustless finger sandwiches. "This will have to suffice for now." He hands me a note then leaves the room.
There is just one sentence inside the note, which I read to Ari. "Intelligence chatter regarding crown. Keyword: Terra."
"What's Terra?" Ari asks.
"I don't know what this is referring to, but Terra was the Roman Goddess of the Earth. In renditions of her, she is always beautiful and usually surrounded by a cornucopia, flowers, and fruit. Sometimes, she is depicted pregnant because she is also the guardian of fertility and motherhood. In planetary science, Terra is the third planet usually referred to as Earth. The male counterpart is Tellus. He was an Athenian statesman in Herodotus's Histories, where he is said to be the happiest man ever because he had a good life and children who remembered him. Apparently, to the ancient Greeks this was the most honorable life. If I remember right, though, he died in a battle, but not before crushing his opposition."
"How do you know all that?"
I shrug. "I like history. Architecture and Greek and Roman Gods, particularly."
Ari rolls his eyes at me.
"Her Greek counterpart is Gaia. Let me do a quick search and see what comes up." I type in my phone. "Not much more than that other than the festival held in her honor was on April the fifteenth. Then pages and pages of info of pretty much the same. I'm not seeing it used in any other way."
"Could it be the name of a terrorist organization?"
"Let me see. Hmm. There's an old Spanish terrorist group that seems to have existed from the late seventies until the mid-eighties but nothing from them in years. It looks like they wanted their own state. It looks like they finally came to peace with the government and announced their dissolution."
"Could it have been revived?" Ari wonders.
"I don't know. I don't see anything more about it or anything else."
"Sounds like a dead end. Let's discuss the Prince's cousins. They're next in line to the throne. We need to meet them soon. Oh, and it seems Peter and Allie are joining us in Montrovia. I'm putting them in separate bedrooms, just so you know."
I laugh. "Uh, oh."
"Speaking of that. Daniel got called back to the Embassy immediately upon news of the attack on the castle, but he did mention going to the Casino tonight. I think we should go."
Peter and Allie arrive just after sundown. Peter has already booked dinner reservations at the Michelin starred restaurant we vetoed the other night. Allie gives me air kisses and rushes to her room to freshen up and change for dinner. Their plane was delayed due to weather, and they are running behind schedule. Peter informs us that we mustn't be late for our reservations, so I run up to my room to change into a cocktail dress.
X X X
Dinner works in our favor. Not only do we have an incredible meal, but Peter is joined in the bar afterwards by the Prince's two cousins and their significant others. We meet the eldest of the sisters, Ophelia, as well as her boyfriend, Viktor. Ophelia is slender with a lean yoga body and short, dark hair that frames her petite face. She's smart, sarcastic, and a leader--almost to the point of domineering. She's dressed in a severely cut dark green suit, black pumps, and a large angular black hat. She has mastered the art of resting bitch face and looking bored. Her boyfriend, Viktor, is much more gregarious. He's friendly, has an aristocratic air, impeccable manners, and can throw down quite a lot of alcohol. He seems fine with Ophelia wearing the pants in their relationship of six months. Viktor and Peter are well acquainted, having vacationed together with their families because of their fathers' friendship.
Younger sister, Clarice, looks exactly like Ophelia would with long hair, but that's where the similarities end. Clarice has more of a laid-back, hippie vibe. Her passion is travel, and she entertains us with stories of trips to exotic locales and her focus on charities that attempt to make the world a better place. Her boyfriend, Armend, who I find out she's only been seeing for a few weeks, is quiet but controlling. She's super laid back, and it surprises me when he looks at her and barks out an order--like My drink is empty--and she immediately scurries to remedy it. Plus, his predatory gaze gives me the creeps. My gut reaction is not to trust him, and my mind runs through scenarios. The kind of scenarios where he could be in on the plot to overthrow the monarchy. And it gets me wondering if that's even the plan. What if the plan isn't just to kill the Prince? What if it includes bossy, outspoken, and uncontrollable Ophelia? Or controlling an easy to manipulate Clarice? I imagine her and Armend married and him running the show.
