Royalty on the run

A series of explosions took out the royal motorcade and threw the country of Lydia into chaos. Princess Anastasia missed her limo, and doesn’t know what has become of the rest of her family. Whisked away from her native country for her protection, Stasi is dismayed that her life is now in shambles. But at least she’s not alone. Kirk Covington pledges to keep her safe. He’s a royal guard…and the man she’s spent years blaming for her brother’s disappearance. Now she’ll have to trust him with her life—and her heart—in order to regain the throne.

“Get down,” Kirk ordered.

Stasi’s eyes widened as she looked at him. What was happening? Were Kirk’s actions related to the attack? She already doubted she could trust the man. He’d been linked to such a horrible crime before.

“Down,” Kirk commanded, his open palm pushing her head below the level of the dashboard.

She grabbed his wrist and tore his arm away from her royal head. “No. I won’t do what you say.”

Kirk stopped the Jeep with a jerk and glared at her. “Don’t fight me. Don’t you see? The royal family has been attacked. If anyone sees you, they’ll know you weren’t killed. I’ve got to get you out of here.”

Stasi looked at him dumbly. Too much didn’t make sense. “What do you mean? You think someone might try to kill me?”

“Please.” Kirk’s voice plunged to pleading depths. “You’ve got to stay down. Your life is in danger.”

Stasi shrunk in her seat, but her eyes didn’t leave Kirk’s face. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I’m going to hide you, if I can.” He looked around at the empty streets. “But you’ve got to do what I say.”

Protecting the Princess

Rachelle McCalla

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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On the Sabbath we went outside the city gate to the river, where we expected to find a place of prayer. We sat down and began to speak to the women who had gathered there. One of those listening was a woman named Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth from the city of Thyatira, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul’s message. When she and the members of her household were baptized, she invited us to her home. “If you consider me a believer in the Lord,” she said, “come and stay at my house.” And she persuaded us.

—Acts 16:13–15

To Eleanor, my princess, who taught me to wear pink and enjoy jewelry.

You are stronger than you think you are. I love you.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my loving and supportive family, who insist they enjoy frozen pizza, freeing me from cooking so I can write. I love you all!

Thanks also to my awesome friends whose insights contributed to the factual accuracy of this book. Special thanks to Lonny Douthit, my cousin who flies helicopters, who patiently tried to explain them to me. Any errors are mine, not his!

And to all the friends who chimed in on my efforts to name the Crown Prince—because of you, he is not Xerxes or Phineas or Arthur. Thank you. And let me not forget all those friends who supplied terms and words when my brain ran dry. Because of you, the-woman-behind-the-ticket-counter-who-sells-tickets-at-the-airport shall henceforth be known as a ticketing agent. Ah. So much better.

And special thanks to my editor extraordinaire, Emily Rodmell, for her insight, expertise and patience with my frantic Friday afternoon email barrages. Enjoy your weekend in peace, you’ve earned it!

Disclaimer: The people and events of this story are fiction. There is no nation of Lydia, although there was a woman named Lydia mentioned in Acts chapter 16 of the Bible, and she had a house church in that area of the world. Beyond that, this story is the fruit of my imagination, and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

ONE

Her Royal Highness Princess Anastasia of Lydia grabbed the doorknob and gave it a turn, but when she tried to push the door open, it wouldn’t budge.

Stasi blinked. How strange! Her door had never given her any problems before. She tried again, this time pushing harder, but with no success. Finally, throwing all her weight into it, she shoved the door with her shoulder. Nothing.

Had someone barricaded her door so it wouldn’t open?

Stasi looked around her suite uneasily.

She was trapped inside her own room, and the royal motorcade would be leaving any minute for the state dinner.

Refusing to give in to the panic she felt, Stasi grabbed her phone and dialed the number for the palace managers.

Theresa Covington answered.

“I’m trapped inside my room—and the motorcade is leaving any second!” She fingered her sapphire necklace uneasily.

“I’ll send someone immediately.”

“Thank you.” Stasi ended the call and waited, glancing nervously around, wondering why her door wouldn’t open, and if the peculiar disturbance had anything to do with the other unusual trespasses she’d experienced lately. She knew of at least three other times in the past few weeks when items in her room had been eerily displaced—not stolen outright, but disturbed, as though they’d been rooted through, and then put back slightly out of order.

Footsteps approached from the hallway outside her door. “Your Highness?” A voice sounded from the other side, and she watched the doorknob turn. “Your Highness?”

“Yes!” She practically threw the door open, prepared to thank whoever had rescued her, but she startled backward when she recognized the man on the other side of the door.

Kirk Covington.

So, Theresa had sent her son.

“Thank you.” Stasi glanced at the chair Kirk had pushed aside. Had it been propped against her door, preventing her from getting out? She didn’t have time to analyze what had happened, so she brushed brusquely past him and hurried down the wide marble staircase. Dashing as quickly as she dared in her high heels across the gracious foyer, she flung herself through the front palace doors and blinked.

The twenty-foot-tall wrought-iron gates closed behind the last of the royal limousines a hundred meters away.

Her stomach sank.

The royal motorcade had left without her! She bit her lip, ready to cry after the ordeal of the last few minutes.

“Your Highness?” Kirk had followed her down the stairs. “Have they gone?”

“Yes.” She straightened her posture to royal perfection. It wouldn’t do to let Kirk Covington see her distressed.

“I’ll drive you.”

Stasi froze.

“I can drive myself. I’m a perfectly capable driver.” She hoisted up the fluffy skirt of her long evening gown as she stepped outside and descended the palace steps.

“Yes, I suppose you could drive yourself—” Kirk kept pace with her, hauling an enormous military-style duffel bag over his shoulder, as if he’d been en route to somewhere when his mother sent him to free her from her room “—but then what are you going to do with your car once you arrive at the state dinner? There won’t be valet parking, and if you have to hunt for a space…”

“Fine.” She didn’t let him get any further, but glanced at the bag he carried as they ducked into the garage. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” Stasi didn’t want to spend any more time in Kirk’s presence, but she had to catch up to the rest of her family in the motorcade.

“None at all.”

“Then, thank you. Which car shall we take?”

“The Jeep.” He placed his thumb against the touch pad of the cabinet that housed the keys to the royal vehicles. When his thumbprint registered, a green light illuminated, and Kirk opened the cabinet, pulling out the keys and snapping the cabinet locked shut again. “Come on.” He jogged past several other vehicles and empty bays to the waiting Jeep, tossing the large duffel bag he’d been carrying into the backseat.

Stasi hoisted her skirt and hurried after him, climbing into the passenger seat just as Kirk got the vehicle into gear. Worries swirled in her head, but she did her best to quiet them.

So what if Kirk Covington had been accused of murdering her brother Thaddeus, the heir to the throne of Lydia, six years before? He’d been best friends with her brother forever before that, and there had never been enough evidence to prove he’d committed any crime. Her brother’s body had never been found. Kirk had been eventually been cleared of all charges and reinstated to his position as part of the royal guard. Kirk was innocent, wasn’t he?

Besides, what could possibly happen on the way to the state dinner?

For most of her life, Kirk had been a trusted friend. She still didn’t believe he was a dangerous man, or that he’d ever done anything to hurt her brother. But she was nearly certain he knew more of what had happened to Thaddeus than what he’d confessed. Regardless of the real facts, Kirk had been the most hated man in Lydia for the last six years. If she was seen with him, she’d never live it down.

Kirk pressed the button to open the side gates of the palace courtyard. “We’ll take Mursia Street as far as State Street. I should be able to get right up beside the motorcade at the intersection. You can hop out and catch up with your family. No one has to see you arrive with me.” He seemed to anticipate her reservations as the Jeep rattled down the narrow cobblestone road.

“Excellent.” Stasi fumbled with her seat belt and tried to tell herself not to be so nervous. She’d be fine. From the vantage point of the high road, she could just catch a glimpse of the motorcade ahead of them as the buildings and alleyways flashed by. Much as she wanted to prompt him to hurry, she knew Kirk was driving as quickly as the narrow streets would allow. And though the pedestrians were few on the side street, it wouldn’t be safe to travel too fast.

“Who barricaded your door?” Kirk asked as they bounced along.

“I don’t know.”

“Was it a prank?”

“I don’t think so.” The only people who had ever played pranks on her had been Thaddeus and Kirk, but that had been years ago. “It might be related to the other break-ins I’ve had lately.”

“What other break-ins?” Kirk paused at a stop sign and met her eyes. He looked startled.

“Weren’t you briefed on them?” As a member of the royal guard, Kirk should have been made aware of each incident report.

“I haven’t heard a peep about anything having to do with you or your room. Was anything stolen?”

“Oddly enough, no. I keep careful track of all my jewelry—that’s why I noticed things had been moved. But nothing was missing.”

Kirk’s eyes returned to the road. They were catching up to the motorcade—just in time.

Stasi tried to suppress the tremble in her voice. “Someone has been in my room before. Things have been moved. I spoke with Viktor Bosch directly.” As the head of the royal guard, Viktor had insisted on handling the incidents himself.

Before Stasi could sort it out, Kirk shifted gears again as they paused at another stop sign. “We’re almost there.”

Stasi took advantage of their position to crane her neck, looking to where the motorcade would be passing by.

How strange.

She placed a tentative hand on Kirk’s arm and pointed down the angular bend of road to where the motorcade sat.

“They’re not moving. Why aren’t they moving?”

Kirk’s warm hazel eyes met hers for just a second, and she saw sincere fear there.

Something was terribly wrong. There were still several more blocks to go before the first limousine would reach the State House. And the royal motorcade never stopped until it reached its destination.

An ear-piercing squeal rent the clear evening, and Stasi’s fingers tightened around Kirk’s arm instinctively. With a loud explosion, an orange ball of fire erupted above the front of the motorcade.

Right where her parents’ car had paused.

Though buildings blocked her sight of the spot, Anastasia had little doubt the massive fireball had erupted from the head limousine, or very close to it.

“No.” Her lips trembled. “No. No.” She shook her head in disbelief.

As though to reinforce the reality of the situation, another furious explosion rocked the earth, this time closer to the rear of the motorcade.

But her brother, Prince Alexander, and her sister, Princess Isabelle, would be riding toward the rear of the motorcade.

Right where the blast had struck.

Another bright ball of fire seared the sky.

Kirk punched the vehicle into gear and whipped the Jeep into a tight turn.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Stasi couldn’t believe the horrific sight she’d just witnessed—was still witnessing, as another loud explosion rocked the city behind them.

“Get down,” Kirk ordered.

Stasi’s eyes widened as she looked at him. What was happening? Were Kirk’s actions related to the attack? He’d been linked to such a horrible crime before.

“Down!” Kirk’s open palm pushed her head below the level of the dashboard.

She grabbed his wrist and tore his arm away from her royal head. “No. I won’t do what you say.”

Kirk stopped the Jeep with a jerk and glared at her. “Don’t fight me. Don’t you see? The royal family has been attacked. If anyone sees you, they’ll know you weren’t killed. I’ve got to get you out of here.”

Stasi looked at him dumbly. Too many disturbing things had happened that day. “What do you mean? You think someone might try to kill me?”

Throwing a glance in the direction of the motorcade, Kirk leaned close to her ear. His voice rumbled in low tones. “I’ve heard rumors.” Kirk was a sentinel in the royal guard. Stasi wondered if that was where the rumors he’d heard had originated. “I didn’t think there was any substance to it. Clearly I was wrong.”

“Rumors of what? This attack?”

Kirk’s hazel eyes closed as another blast rent the air. Pain struggled across his face. When he opened his eyes, his tone was patient, yet intense. “An insurgent uprising. A coup to overthrow your father’s government. Assassinating the royal family.”

“My family?” Stasi could barely muster the words. She felt as though her breath had been stolen.

“Please.” Kirk’s voice plunged to pleading depths. “You’ve got to stay down. Your life is in danger.”

Stasi shrunk in her seat, but her eyes didn’t leave Kirk’s face. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I’m going to hide you if I can.” He looked around at the empty streets. “But you’ve got to do what I say.”

Numbly, Stasi nodded, hardly able to believe what she was agreeing to. But really, she had no choice. She’d have to trust the man who’d been accused of killing her brother.

When Stasi all but disappeared into the pouf of her royal gown on the floor of his Jeep, Kirk tossed his canvas military duffel bag on top of her and prayed no one would stop them. The open Jeep offered little in the way of cover, and now that the loud explosions had ceased, the people who had rushed inside at the first sign of trouble began to peek curiously out of the buildings they passed.

Kirk took back roads to the marina. The attack shocked him, but he’d always been a man of action. He’d find a way to get the princess to safety, then come back and ask questions. Besides, it was likely too soon for anyone to know why the attacks had happened or who was behind them.

He slowed their vehicle as they approached the marina and found an out-of-the-way parking spot not far from the rocky cliffs. It was still a long trek to his sailboat, but that stage of the trip didn’t worry him nearly as much as what he was about to do.

Killing the engine, Kirk leaned over and lifted the duffel bag just enough to allow him to see Stasi’s frightened blue eyes looking up at him.

“We’re at the marina.” He laid out the bare facts of the situation. “There aren’t too many people around. I’m going to take you to my boat.”

He watched indecision war across her face. Would she trust him? Given the accusations that had been made against him in the past, he knew she’d have every right not to trust him. But she also had no other alternative, and he’d have to have her cooperation if he was going to get her out of the city alive.

And he had to get her out of the city. As a sentinel in the royal guard, he’d taken a vow to protect the royal family. There was no doubt in his mind that every minute she stayed in Sardis, her life was in greater danger.

“How am I going to get to the boat without anyone seeing me?”

Her question was an excellent one. With her golden-blond hair, inherited from her American mother, Princess Anastasia would easily stand out among the mostly darker-haired Lydians at the marina, especially since her dramatic curls were styled in an elaborate formal hairdo.

He couldn’t risk letting anyone even suspect the princess was with him. He was certain her life would depend upon that.

“I’ll carry you. You’ll fit in my duffel bag.” The enormous military-size bag was meant to carry everything a soldier needed during deployment. It was more than big enough for the petite princess.

Her mouth dropped open, and her head peeked up higher.

Kirk looked around warily. So far no one was paying them any attention. The explosions would have been clearly visible from the marina, and most of those milling about appeared to be caught up in discussions, or on the phone, staring toward the place where the smoke still rose, gesturing toward the plumes, no doubt trying to determine what had happened.

Fortunately, though the Jeep he’d driven belonged to the royal household, there was nothing about the vehicle to identify it as such. And nimble Jeeps were common enough on the steep terrain and narrow streets of Sardis, Lydia’s capital city.

Unfortunately, plenty of folks, including the royal guards who’d been standing at the gates, had surely seen the princess riding with him as they left the palace. If anyone wanted to locate her, they wouldn’t have to ask around long before they figured out she was with him. He would have to hurry if he was going to get her out of Sardis before anyone caught up to them.

Reluctance filled her face, but to her credit, the princess didn’t protest his plan. She ducked low while he emptied the canvas bag of what he could—his royal guard uniform and some books. These he stowed in the locked compartment under the rear seat. The key to the compartment was on the key ring he’d taken from the cabinet.

“Can you wriggle in there?” He settled the open military duffel over Stasi’s head.

The petite princess fumbled inside the oversize bag, and Kirk hopped out, circling around to her side of the Jeep and helping her tuck her feet inside before carefully upending the bag with her in it, and tucking the folds of her dress in after her.

Fearful eyes watched him pull the zipper up toward her face. He could see a hundred questions on her lips and knew she had to be afraid. Of the insurgents, and also, of him.

“I’ll keep you safe.”

She gave a tiny nod, and he zipped the bag closed.

Hefting the strap over his shoulder, he carried her as gently as he could without making a show of it. He tossed his head back and tried to look carefree as he made his way toward the boardwalk.

The youngest member of the Royal House of Lydia had always been light. This wasn’t the first time he’d carried her. Growing up best friends with her elder brother, Thaddeus, Kirk had spent most of his childhood playing with the royal siblings: Thaddeus, Alexander, Isabelle and Anastasia. He’d always had a soft spot for tiny Stasi, born almost two months premature, who’d tried so hard to keep up with the older children.

While the royal siblings seemed content to run on without her, Kirk had never been willing to leave her behind. From the time he was seven and she was old enough to hold on, somewhere around the age of two, she’d been an almost constant fixture perched atop his shoulders as they’d played games in the royal garden, or gone zipping through the halls of the royal palace.

That had been years ago, before her brother’s disappearance had turned the royal family and most of the Kingdom of Lydia against him. Many Lydians, the king and queen included, doubted he’d actually killed Thaddeus or even been witness to his accidental death, but he’d still gone on trial—most likely in an attempt to pressure him to reveal Thad’s whereabouts since the body had never been found. Once the jury had found him not guilty for lack of evidence, he’d been untouchable, and a judge had ordered him back to his post in the royal guard.

He wasn’t welcome there. He was tolerated at best, either by those who hated him for not revealing where their future king had gone, or by those who were jealous of all the media attention he’d been shown, his picture splashed across every newspaper for almost two years before the matter was settled.

He hadn’t carried Stasi in far longer than those six years, but she still felt light as he tried to remove her from the danger in Sardis. Kirk shuddered to think what may have become of the royal family. Somehow, the explosions that had rocked the royal world on its edge had tipped his back into alignment. He now had a chance to prove himself to them—to demonstrate, beyond any doubt, that he would do anything to protect them. More than that, he could show them that he would never have committed the crime he’d been accused of.

At the sight of trouble up ahead, Kirk neither slowed nor rushed his steps. He drew nearer to a Lydian soldier who patrolled the marina.

The man held out his Uzi like a crossing guard beam. “Kirk Covington?”

“Yes.” Kirk was used to folks he didn’t know recognizing him. Though his picture didn’t fill the papers as much these days, his name still landed in the tabloids often enough. People either loved or hated him. Most of those associated with the royal family fell into the latter group, and Kirk got the sense this soldier was one of them. But his experience with the media had taught him to stay one step ahead of those who might question him.

Before the soldier could ask him anything, Kirk leaned a little closer to the man. “Do you know anything about those explosions up on the hill?”

The man seemed to weigh his answer. “There’s been some sort of attack. They may be locking down the city shortly.”

“Ah.” Kirk nodded. “Then I suppose if I’m going to get away for the weekend, I’ll have to take my boat out now.”

The soldier seemed to shuffle in place. Kirk got the sense he didn’t really know what was going on, but the man was certainly keyed up over what had happened. He needed to get moving before the soldier thought to question him further.

“I won’t keep you.” Kirk tipped his head to the soldier and stepped around him.

He continued down the pier to where his sailboat sat in the water. Behind him, he heard the static buzz of the soldier’s radio, and his ears pricked up at an urgent-sounding transmission, though he couldn’t make out any words.

But at the soldier’s confirmation back, Kirk picked up his pace. Were they on to him? Had someone spotted him leaving the palace with the princess and alerted the soldier already?

A second later the soldier shouted back at him, confirming his worst fears.

“Kirk Covington? I need to ask you some questions.”

Kirk broke into a run. Slim as his odds seemed of making sail before the soldier caught up to him, he couldn’t let anyone find the princess. If the massive explosions and the rumors he’d heard were any indication, all the members of the royal family had been targeted for assassination.

Boots pounded down the pier behind him. The man was armed. Kirk couldn’t risk drawing his fire—not with the princess slung over his back.

He set the duffel down behind him on the pier and turned to face the soldier just as the man flung himself through the air toward him.

TWO

With a roar, Kirk leaped at the man, catching him by the arms, mindful of the soldier’s gun that could send a deadly spray of bullets across the pier with a touch of the trigger.

He couldn’t let the man get a shot off. Stasi was far too vulnerable tucked inside his duffel bag. At the same time, Kirk realized he needed to get rid of this soldier quickly. No doubt there were others in the area. The last thing he needed to do was draw the attention of more of them.

Overpowering the man’s grip on the gun through the sheer advantage of his strength, Kirk pried the weapon from the soldier’s hands and flung it through the air. It splashed into the sea.

The man’s hands flew to his sidearm.

Kirk jabbed his knee between the soldier’s hand and his holster before he could reach his gun. Eager to end their scuffle as quickly as possible, Kirk shoved the man backward, sending him tumbling face-first into the Mediterranean. Weighed down as he was by his munitions, Kirk figured it would take the soldier a while pull himself out of the sea, though the water wasn’t quite deep enough to drown in. The soldier would be fine.

Unwilling to spare even a split second to see how long it took his attacker to surface, Kirk grabbed the duffel bag and bounded toward his sloop, setting the bag that held Stasi gently down on the deck, unfettering the boat, shoving off with a mighty heave and powering up the trolling motor that would propel the boat until he could pick up a breeze in the open sea.

Navigating the lightweight craft through the crowded marina, Kirk focused on putting some distance between his boat and the soldier. He glanced back in time to see the uniformed man swimming toward a pier support. Kirk hoped he’d have to struggle to climb out of the sea in his heavy gear—that would at least buy him a little more time. And he prayed the man hadn’t gotten a decent look at his boat.

Once he’d maneuvered his sailboat into the open sea, Kirk hauled the duffel into the boat’s small cabin and pulled back the zipper.

The fluffy folds of Stasi’s royal skirt didn’t budge.

Was she okay? She hadn’t suffocated in there, had she?

“Your Highness?” He pushed back the flouncy fabric, and Stasi peeled her hands from her face and blinked up at him. She was trembling, from her shoulders to her lower lip, to the tears that shimmered on her cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

She hiccupped.

Kirk wished there was something more he could do for her—some way to comfort her or dry her tears, but there wasn’t time. Any number of folks might have seen him leaving the harbor. “I’m sorry.” The words seemed so inadequate against the terrors they’d both just witnessed. Had her family members all been killed?

“Where are we?” Her voice shook as she disentangled herself from the inside of the bag.

“At sea. You’re safe for now. I need to go back up and steer. You stay below. We can’t risk anyone seeing you.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Kirk didn’t have time for her questions. Instead, he turned and went back above, closing the cabin door behind him. She appeared to be overcome with fear and shock, and he prayed she’d be okay until he got her to relative safety. Then he’d do what he could to reassure her.

But not now. She had to stay out of sight for now. Sardis Bay tended to be crowded. He needed to be where he could steer the craft through the busy waters.

The nation of Lydia shared the Mediterranean coast with Albania and Greece. Her capital city of Sardis was also her primary port. Beyond the marina, the cove of Sardis Bay was protected on the north by a finger of land that jutted toward an archipelago. Tourists and Lydians alike loved the white-sand beaches that rimmed the small islands, which extended for almost fifty kilometers beyond the mainland.

The islands had once formed a peninsula that was connected to the capital city, and centuries before, the royal family had built a stronghold on the rocky promontory at its tip. Now the ruins of that fortress lay at the outermost tip of the stretch of islands. No one ever ventured to the Island of Dorsi.

Dorsi was said to have been contaminated by land mines during the world wars, though no one could ever agree what enemy had placed them, since Lydia had remained neutral throughout those conflicts. Besides that, the massive blocks of limestone that teetered in ruinous towers were rumored to fall at the slightest provocation, especially when disturbed by those who didn’t belong there.

The island itself was such a formidable rock that there didn’t seem to be any decent spot to anchor, and if that weren’t deterrent enough, the periphery of the island was dotted every twenty feet or so with fearsome signs, warning potential visitors of certain death should they venture there.

Kirk would take an indirect route to the Island of Dorsi. If anyone tried to follow him, he could hopefully lose them among the islands, especially with evening coming on. The evasive measures would take time, and it would likely be sundown by the time he and the princess arrived on the Island of Dorsi. He could only pray they would arrive safely.

Anastasia slumped down on one of the cushioned benches that lined the sides of the boat’s cabin. The summer evening was warm, but she still felt a distinct chill and hugged herself while she tried to bite back the tears that threatened to fall.

Terror squeezed her heart. She’d heard enough of Kirk’s encounter with the soldier at the pier to realize they’d come quite close to being discovered. She hadn’t even been certain, until he’d zipped back enough of the bag for her to see out, that she hadn’t fallen into the hands of those who’d targeted her family.

At the mere thought of her family, her heart clenched. What had happened to her parents and siblings? The explosions had been so huge, the black smoke so thick, it was difficult to imagine that they might have escaped unscathed. Had they perished in the attack?

The horrifying thought was more than she could bear, and she reeled as fearsome thoughts washed over her. What would become of her family? Was she the only member of the Royal House of Lydia who’d survived? What if the assassins tracked her down? Where could she possibly go from here, alone and hunted?

When Kirk had zipped her into his bag, she’d felt a helplessness unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Though the extralarge military duffel had allowed sufficient room for her petite frame, she’d realized as Kirk carried her toward his boat that she was completely at his mercy. What if anything happened to him? What if his motives weren’t pure?

Stasi thought back to the days following her brother’s disappearance. Her mother, Queen Elaine had been frantic. Her father, King Philip, had insisted that Thaddeus would check in anytime—that he’d simply needed some time to himself. But as the hours had grown into days, it had become obvious that the crown prince wasn’t coming home. Kirk Covington had been the last person to see him alive. Witnesses had watched the two of them take off in Kirk’s boat one morning. Kirk had returned that evening alone, and had remained tight-lipped about what had happened to Thaddeus, where he was or whether he was even alive.

Kirk had been the only person of interest throughout the investigation. Thad and Kirk, both strong young men with fiery personalities, had been known to get into fights before. Stasi recalled their wrestling matches growing up. Thaddeus had always been a tad bigger than Kirk, being six months older, but Kirk had been more ruthless, and the more tenacious fighter.

The prosecution had argued Kirk and Thad had fought, that Kirk had underestimated his own strength and accidentally killed the heir to the throne, then covered up his death. But after a lengthy trial, there hadn’t been enough evidence to convict him of the crime. He’d been ordered back to his post as a sentinel with the royal guard, and was untouchable after that.

The memories swirled in her mind, the betrayal she’d felt when she’d first heard Kirk had been involved with her brother’s disappearance and possible death. Her brother had trusted Kirk. She’d trusted Kirk, looked up to him, adored him, even more than she’d adored her older brother. She’d begged him for answers, but every time she’d questioned him, he’d simply said, “I’ve told you all I can.”

But he hadn’t ever told her anything.

What if he had sailed off with her brother and killed him? Were the rumors true? Was she even now in the same boat her brother had been in?

Just as terror began to choke her and waves of sorrow wash over her, Kirk poked his head into the dark cabin. The sinking sun outlined his broad shoulders. “You can come out now if you keep your head down.”

“Okay.” Her voice wobbled, but she held back her tears and stood. At the very least she wanted to see where they were and where Kirk was taking her.

She’d kicked off her high-heeled shoes and now followed him barefoot onto the deck, the hem of her long gown brushing against her toes. The little boat dipped among the gentle waves, and Stasi had to focus on keeping her legs steady.

The first stars twinkled in the eastern sky, so much brighter out at sea than they ever were in the city. The red light of the setting sun spilled like blood across the western sky, coloring the sea, and Stasi tried not to read it as an omen of her family’s fate.

Shuffling forward to stand near Kirk at the prow, she tried to evaluate their position, but between the darkening sky and her tear-blurred vision she could hardly see anything. In the dark of the boat’s cabin, the horror of what she’d seen on the streets of Sardis had seemed so far away, like a scene from a movie, like something she could walk away from when the lights came on.

But out here on the deck, with the same balmy breeze that had warmed her when the first blast had struck the motorcade, the reality didn’t seem so distant, the bloodred waters painting too vivid an image of what may have happened. Her stomach lurched with the rocking of the boat.

“You’re holding together well,” Kirk observed.

Stasi tried to nod, but a spasm of loss and terror clenched at her stomach. Was her family gone? Were they dead? All of them? As the boat rocked up and then down, Stasi leaned over the side, losing what was left of her lunch into the sea.

A moaning sob escaped her lips.

“It’s all right.” Kirk grabbed a towel from somewhere.

Stasi wanted to correct him, to assure him that nothing was right, or ever would be again, but all she could do was grab the low rail that edged the side of the boat, gagging and heaving nothing from her empty stomach.

“You’ll be all right.” He dabbed the corners of her mouth with the towel before she leaned forward and retched dry air toward the salt sea.

She shook her head and gasped for breath. Couldn’t he see? “I’m not.” She gripped her stomach as it threatened to lurch again. “Not all right. Nothing is all right.” She panted, trying to catch her breath and settle her shuddering stomach.

“Shh.” Kirk’s head bent suddenly close as he soothed her. “Deep breaths. Don’t gulp air. You’ll only make it worse.”

She shoved him away and took a step back. “How can I make it worse?” Her voice rose as she looked up at him. “How can I possibly make it worse?”

But rather than give her the space she desired, he stepped closer this time, his voice low, his hazel eyes flicking to the skyline and back to her. “Keep your voice down. If you get caught, I guarantee things will get worse in a hurry.”

Fear shot through her sorrow, deflating it somewhat. “Caught?”

A patient look settled across his features as he worked with the sails. “The rebels behind the attack this evening.” He spoke so quietly, she found she had to step closer just to hear him. “You don’t think they’ll be content to just scare you off, do you? That wasn’t a demonstration by an unhappy fringe group, in case you were wondering. No, that was a coordinated attempt, and I fear they may have the military on their side.”

His words were in plain English, the official language of Lydia, yet she couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. As Kirk untied the line that held a sail, Anastasia followed him. “The explosions?” She ducked as he swung a jib around past her, then stepped closer again as he used it to catch the breeze. “You think the military attacked the royal motorcade?”

Kirk remained silent as he tied a complicated knot that held the rope taut.

“My father is the head of the military.” She tried to sort out what had happened, as though it was a game of hide-and-seek like they’d played as children, and if she could just solve the riddle, her family would reappear. “You said you’d heard rumors. An uprising?” She followed him back as he unlocked the rudder, aligning the small boat with their altered course. “Kirk—talk to me. What do you know?”

“Nothing for certain.” He took the steps down to the cabin and ducked out of sight.

Infuriating. The silent man would yield no more answers today than he had six years before when she’d asked him about her brother. She followed him below, but rather than answer her question, he stepped past her and went back on deck, still busy sailing the boat.

“Kirk!” She followed him back into the open air.

“Shh!” This time his face bent so close to hers their foreheads nearly touched. “I told you to keep your voice down.”

Stasi glanced around at the open sea. Yes, there were boats in the area, but they were far enough away and none of them seemed to be paying them any extra attention, and it was unlikely they’d be able to hear her unless they were listening closely.

But what if they were listening closely?

Chastened, she gripped her stomach before it could spasm again. “Kirk, please.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn’t care. “I don’t understand what happened. My family—” She gulped a breath, her words cutting in and out in a high squeak of emotion. “I don’t know what happened to my family. I don’t know where we’re going or who’s after me.” Tears flowed freely at the thought of her family members being injured or killed. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can trust me. Have I ever hurt you before?”

“You took my brother away.”

“I didn’t take him away. He left. I simply kept my promise not to tell anyone where he went.”

“So Thaddeus is alive?”

“He was last I checked.”

Stasi nodded, though Kirk’s words did little to reassure her. She’d never understood why her brother would go away and not give them any proof of his survival. Another sorrowful spasm racked her stomach, and she moaned.

“Here.” Kirk extended a silver-wrapped piece of gum toward her. “Peppermint. To settle your stomach.”

“Thank you.” Stasi doubted the little stick of gum could overcome the unsettling effects of all she’d witnessed, but she appreciated his gesture. She popped the gum into her mouth, thinking if Thaddeus really was alive, she wasn’t completely alone.

Kirk altered the course of the boat again, weaving them in between small islands. “You can trust me. I didn’t betray your brother, not even during his murder trial. And I won’t betray you.”

“What does that mean?” She held his arm, a thick, strong one, feeling his muscles flex as he worked the ropes of his one-man sailboat. “You didn’t betray my brother?”

The chameleon color of his hazel eyes picked up the bloodred of the sunset, its deadly hue an ill portent that stained his words. “I promised your brother that I would keep his whereabouts a secret from everyone.”

“Thad wanted you to hide him?”

“Yes.” Kirk turned his back to her, busy with the tasks of sailing the craft in a zigzagging pattern through the islands. Stasi studied his back, for the first time considering her brother’s disappearance from this new angle he’d shown her.

Perhaps Kirk was a man of integrity after all. Perhaps he was actually the bravest, most honorable person through that whole messy trial. He’d taken the stand and insisted that Thaddeus wasn’t dead, but to every demand for proof, he’d simply responded, “I can’t tell you.”

It had driven her father nearly mad. She’d been present for much of it, furious with Kirk through almost all of it, but at the same time, she’d sensed there was something more to the story just below the surface, if only Kirk would break his infuriating silence.

The man seemed determined never to tell more than was absolutely necessary. But she needed answers, now more than ever. “Where are we headed?”

“Dorsi.”

Stasi startled. “But it’s forbidden. It’s dangerous.”

“Not as dangerous as what’s behind us.”

She absorbed his words. He had a decent point there. “But—”

“It’s the last place anyone will come to look for us. Everyone knows to visit the Island of Dorsi is to take your life into your own hands.”

“And for good reason. No one has ever visited Dorsi and returned alive.”

“I have.”

Stasi stepped back with the sway of the boat and shook her head slowly. “Travel to the Island of Dorsi has been banned for nearly a century. The walls are crumbling away and there are land mines everywhere.”

“For the record—” Kirk’s face bore a smile that was just enough of a smirk to irritate her “—I’ve been visiting Dorsi for over a decade and never witnessed a crumbling wall or any falling rocks that I did not personally dislodge. And as far as I can tell there is no substance behind the rumor about the land mines. I suspect your grandfather’s government didn’t want to deal with the liability of tourists visiting the island. If they came in droves, they really could start the walls crumbling. The land mine story was likely invented to keep people away.”

The smirk had faded from his lips, replaced by a serious expression. “For our sakes—” his tone grew solemn “—I’m quite glad they did. Now, I’ve got to bring the boat in, and it’s tricky enough in full daylight, so in this darkness you’ll have to excuse me.”

While Kirk focused on steering the boat toward the island, which loomed ominously above the water in the waning light of the setting sun, Stasi stood back and tried to absorb all he’d told her.

He’d been visiting the island for over a decade? She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to visit the dangerous place, let alone return there. As she watched, the boat pulled closer through the lapping waves. Kirk guided the craft past jagged rocks and the signs warning them in various languages and morbid pictographs just what might happen if one ventured too close.

She shuddered as the rocks slid by. It seemed likely they would hit one, but Kirk’s steady hands never faltered, and the boat slid past rock after rock. The sun spilled its dying light over the sea, and in its red glow Stasi spotted the narrow inlet Kirk had pointed them toward.

To her amazement, the nimble sailboat slipped into the restricted space, past rocky cliffs that protected a secret cove, traveling around a bend to where a soft, sandy beach stretched out behind the rocky promontory, beyond the sight of anyone traveling past the island.

“How did you know this was here?” She followed Kirk as far as the rail. Then Kirk hopped out of the boat with a rope, splashing through the shallow water and pulling the prow onto the sand before securing the rope tightly around a large jutting rock.

“Thad was always curious about the place. He found a book in the king’s library that had a map. It was a few centuries old, so we didn’t know if any of this would still exist. But obviously, it does.” He stood beside the boat and reached his arms out toward her.

Stasi hesitated. She knew he was only offering to help her down, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was wary of having contact with the man she’d spent so long despising. In spite of his reassurances, she still wasn’t certain he was someone she wanted to trust.

But she also didn’t want to stay on the boat alone, so she jumped down and his hands caught her about the waist, settling her effortlessly on her bare feet on the dry sand, just beyond the lapping water.

He held her just long enough for her to gain steady footing, but she still felt herself flush from the contact. She knew he was only being polite, but he’d always been a handsome man who’d somehow grown more attractive while she’d been ignoring him.

“Are you all right?” he whispered before he let her go.

She looked into his face, but with the high rocky walls blocking the low sun, she could make out neither honor nor deceit in his expression. “Fine.” Her legs felt rubbery after the dipping boat ride. When she tried to take a step back, away from him, her knees dipped and she wobbled, flinging her arms wide in an attempt to catch herself.

“Your Highness!” Kirk’s strong hands steadied her waist, keeping her upright, while she overcorrected her careening dip and smashed back into his chest. “Careful, now.” The words rumbled below her ear.

She caught a note of something in the undercurrent of his comforting words, and she kept her cheek pressed against him as she tried to think what it was. In contrast to the fear and grief she’d felt all evening, Kirk’s undertone carried something like warmth or affection, maybe even longing.

Longing?

No, that couldn’t be it. “I’m fine now.” She pulled away from him and stood on her own two feet.

“This way.” He turned and took off up a curving path as though in a hurry to leave their close brush behind.

Still barefoot after having removed her high heels on the boat, Stasi picked her way up the soft sand after him. By the time the sandy path blended into rocks, Kirk was far ahead of her.

The rocks felt sharp against her unaccustomed feet, and though she lifted her long skirt up to her knees, she could hardly see anything of the path in the darkness. Trying to gauge how much farther she had to go, she looked ahead just in time to see Kirk disappear around a bend in the path.

Loneliness washed its heavy hand over her, and she bowed under its weight. Uncertain whether or not the reverberations of her voice would send rocks crashing down, she called out quietly, “Kirk?”

The silence felt a little too hollow and the darkness too deeply shadowed in this forgotten place where the cliffs blocked the setting sun. The fear and grief she’d been battling all evening began to get the upper hand again, and she tried to sniff back her tears.

Then Kirk leaped back into sight in front of her. “Yes?”

Her sense of relief at his reappearance surprised her with its intensity. Had she been that afraid of being alone? Or was she simply that glad to see him again? She fumbled for words. “My feet.” She pointed her naked toes toward him. “The rocks—”

Without another word he scooped her into his arms, cradling her like an infant in her evening gown, and clambered up the path, carrying her as though she didn’t weigh a thing.

She tried not to think too much about how being in his arms made her feel, but there was that warmth she’d felt a moment ago. Kirk was so strong and capable—one of the strongest members of the royal guard, with a promising future ahead of him before he’d tarnished his reputation with a murder trial.

Still, he was winsome and charismatic. It would be all too easy to trust him. And after everything that had happened, she knew she was emotionally vulnerable. Surely the sudden yearning she felt to place her head on his shoulder had nothing to do with any real feelings between them. It was merely a result of the monumentally trying events of the evening.

Kirk traveled easily up the path, and moments later a limestone tower loomed ahead, cast in a golden glow by the light of the sinking sun. Without hesitating, Kirk swept her over the threshold, through an arched doorway into a wide stone room.

THREE

The last of the sunlight blocked by four walls and a ceiling, Stasi blinked against the darkness and tightened her grip on Kirk’s shoulders. “Where are we?”

“Through here is the queen’s chamber. Thad and I found it all on the map. There are stairs up to the tower—it’s got a glorious view all the way to Sardis. But right now I’m taking you to where Thaddeus stayed.”

At the mention of her brother’s name, Stasi was reminded of all the unanswered questions regarding his disappearance. “When did Thad stay here?”

“Six years ago.” Kirk carried her into a smaller room and stopped.

“Before he—?” She let the question linger, unsure how to phrase what had happened.

Kirk settled her onto a stone bench before turning his back to her. “Before he left, yes. He was actually situated here until shortly before the trial. At that point we decided it would be best if he stayed far enough away that, no matter what they did to me, he wouldn’t be tempted to return.” Kirk fumbled with something in the darkness, and a moment later Stasi saw the light of a small flame in his hands.

When he turned back toward her, his face was lit by the warm glow of a candle. “This room isn’t visible from the sea, so you’re safe to use a light in here. But we don’t want anyone to see the light and come investigate, so don’t take any flame with you if you decide to explore further.”

Stasi had little interest in exploring the spooky ruins, but she was eager to hear more about her brother. “Why was it so important that he not return?”

To her surprise, Kirk brought the candle over to the stone bench and sat down beside her. The glow of that tiny fire enveloped them in a small circle of light, and Stasi had to fight the urge to lean closer to him. She watched his face carefully as he spoke.

“Your brother doesn’t want to be found. He and your parents had a disagreement.”

Stasi tried to accept what Kirk told her, but it didn’t make any sense. “I disagree with my parents all the time. I don’t hide from everyone I love because of it.”

Kirk leaned back against the stone wall behind them and closed his eyes. In the flickering light of the candle his face looked older than his almost-thirty years, and weary. “It’s his story to tell. I can’t share it with you any more than I could have told anyone else.”

She placed a tentative hand on his arm. “But everyone thinks you killed him. If he’s not dead, why doesn’t he show his face to prove them all wrong?” She couldn’t stand that Kirk had been willing to let her believe he was a murderer all this time if he really wasn’t.

With a sigh, Kirk opened his eyes and looked at her directly. “If your father knew where your brother was, he’d do everything in his power to bring him back. Thad couldn’t risk that. I’ve told everyone as much of the truth as he wanted me to tell. The rest I promised to keep secret. From everyone, including you.”

Stasi struggled to absorb the news. Granted, Thaddeus was the oldest and she the youngest child in their family, so in spite of being close to her siblings, there had always been that seven-year distance between them. She’d been only seventeen when he’d disappeared, and she’d taken the news very hard—not only the loss of her brother, but the loss of Kirk as a dear family friend.

She wanted very much to believe Thad was still alive, and that Kirk hadn’t ever done anything to hurt him. But she had to steel herself against one inescapable reality: Kirk was keeping secrets from her. However well intentioned those secrets might be, the simple fact was he hadn’t told her the whole truth. Beyond his obscure reassurances, she knew nothing of what had become of her brother. Until the gaps in his story were filled, she didn’t dare trust Kirk. Not completely.

Hoping to push Kirk to reveal her brother’s whereabouts, she met his eyes. “If the rest of my family was killed in today’s ambush, Thaddeus may be the only living relative I have left.”

Kirk bowed his head over the candle. When he looked her in the face again, she was surprised to see wetness twinkling in his eyes. His voice was rough when he spoke. “If I learn that the rest of your family has been killed, I will take you to him.”

She felt a spiral of fear swirl through her stomach. If Kirk had killed her brother, then his words indicated he would kill her, too. But everything about him, from the pain on his face to the way he’d protected her that day, indicated he had only the purest of intentions. Her heart rammed inside her chest, still reeling from the many shocks of the evening, wavering furiously between believing one reality or the other.

Kirk stood. “Thaddeus had a sleeping bag here, as well as some stores of food.”

“Food that was left here six years ago?” Stasi rose to stand beside him.

“Canned food stays good for a long time. You should be able to find something edible. There are wild strawberries on the north side of the island, and excellent fishing in the inlet. Your brother’s fishing pole was in the box where I found this candle. And there’s a freshwater well in the courtyard.”

The way he spoke made it sound as though she’d be on her own to fend for herself—possibly for some time. “Where are you going to be?”

“I’m going back to the mainland.”

“You’re going to leave me?” She didn’t want to be abandoned on the treacherous island.

“We’ve got to learn what happened to your family. I can’t do that from here.”

“But isn’t it dangerous? Surely people saw you leave the palace with me. If they’re looking for me, they’ll come after you.”

The grin Kirk returned her was unsettlingly confident. “If I’m the only one who knows where you are, then I’ll be the safest man in Sardis. Anyone who’s looking for you won’t dare kill me. That would sever their last link to you.”

The meaning of his words sank in. “Is that why my parents declared you untouchable? They believe you know where Thad is?”

“Your father knows why Thad left.” Kirk sighed. “He never honestly thought I killed him. The entire trial was his attempt to compel me to betray your brother—to reveal where he was hiding, or possibly to force your brother to come out of hiding to save me. The king has kept me on in the royal guard in part so he can keep an eye on me. He hates me for not telling him where Thad is.”

Stasi felt alarmed by Kirk’s words. Though they seemed to explain parts of her brother’s case that had always bothered her, in some ways, they raised more questions than they answered. “I don’t understand. Why would you go on trial and endure my father’s hatred—and the scorn of the Lydian people—if you didn’t have to?”

“But I did have to.”

“Thaddeus could have returned.”

“No, Stasi, he couldn’t. I’m sorry I can’t share more details. What your father did—” Kirk’s voice grew rough, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, betraying emotion. “It was bad, Stasi. Bad enough for Thaddeus to go away forever.”

Much as she couldn’t fathom her father doing anything that wasn’t pure, noble, right and blameless, Kirk’s statements had the reinforcement of six years’ history to back them up. A chill of fear prickled goose bumps down her arms. “Do you think it has anything to do with today’s attack?”

Kirk froze, and Stasi thought she spotted a glimmer of fear in his usually fearless eyes. “If it does—” he swallowed, and seemed to need a few breaths before he could continue “—then God help us.”

Stasi didn’t understand all that was going on—Kirk was still withholding information—but she knew enough to know that whatever they were up against, Kirk was scared of it. He’d once stared down a murder trial without blinking. If Kirk was afraid, then she had reason to be afraid, too.

And it also occurred to her that she’d hated and avoided him for six years, when perhaps he’d been acting in a nobler manner than the king. Moved by the thought of what Kirk had been through on her brother’s behalf, Stasi reached for his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He looked down at her, and suddenly she realized how close they were standing, and how strong the arm under her hand felt, and how much she’d missed spending time with him.

“Don’t be.” He leaned a little closer. “I took a vow to protect your family when I joined the royal guard. That meant standing by your brother when his own father tried to betray him. That means doing whatever I can to keep you safe.”

Stasi considered the face so close to hers, his eyes so familiar to the laughing boy she’d known throughout her childhood. Freckles she’d all but forgotten now reappeared like old friends, but on a face matured by time and trials. Had her father really done something so awful her brother saw no other option but to run away? She hated to think it was true. And yet, she’d seen the shadows that had haunted her father’s eyes since the time her brother had disappeared. What had King Philip done? And why?

Whatever it was, Kirk had stood by her brother, and now he’d kept her from danger, too. “You went beyond the call of duty. I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“It’s not up to you.” He stood, and her hand fell away from his arm. “I need to be going.”

“Must you?” Stasi blushed when she heard her impulsive words. She only meant that she didn’t want to be left alone on the island, especially if he was taking the only boat for an undetermined period of time. She’d be stuck, practically marooned.

A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “I promise to return quickly.”

“What if you can’t?”

He tipped his head thoughtfully, as though her words had prompted him for the first time to consider that he wasn’t immortal. For some time he stood still, apparently mulling over a decision.

Stasi studied his handsome face, his sandy-brown hair and the broad sweep of his shoulders. As a child she’d absolutely adored him. For the last six years, she’d hated him.

His deep voice sounded reluctant when he finally spoke. “You make an excellent point. It would be irresponsible for me to leave you here without anyone to protect you, but I can’t take you with me. And yet, there isn’t anyone in the royal guard or in the military who I know for certain we can trust. Not under the circumstances.”

“Then what?”

Finally, Kirk made a resigned face and pulled out his phone. “Ah, good. The cell phone towers in Sardis still cover this island. I’m going to call Thad.” Kirk’s eyes hardened, his expression fiercely solemn. “We must keep the conversation brief. We have no guarantees that this line is secure. Your brother already knows the rules. Everyone has a code name. You must not say anything that would give away who you are, where you are, or who he is. It would endanger you both. Understand?”

The fear she’d felt throughout the evening was crystallized in his request. She’d seen the explosions. She understood the danger of the situation, even if she didn’t know who was behind the attacks or why they’d occurred. “I promise.”

Kirk nodded, then dialed and held the phone to his ear.

“Thank God you called. I’ve been worried sick.” The voice that carried through the phone was just loud enough for Stasi to make out the words. “I’ve seen the news. Tell me they’re not all dead.”

“Not all. I’ve got Juliet with me right now.”

“Praise the Lord.”

Stasi’s skin prickled with goose bumps at the sound of her brother’s voice, and she stepped closer to Kirk, straining to hear more of the voice she’d long thought she might never hear again.

“Keep her safe,” the distant voice insisted. “What about everyone else?”

“I don’t know,” Kirk answered. “I’ve got her holed up in your old hiding place. I’m heading back to town to learn what I can. I hope to have good news for you.”

“Bless you.”

Kirk looked thoughtful as he spoke. “If you don’t hear from me in three days, send someone for Juliet. Don’t come yourself.”

There was a pause. “It’s that bad, then?”

“I’ll do everything I can, but I don’t know what we’re up against. I can’t leave her here indefinitely.”

Stasi suspected he might be close to ending the call. She reached for the phone, eager to speak with her brother.

“Juliet wants to talk to you.” Kirk handed over the phone, warning her, “Remember.”

She nodded solemnly and held the phone to her ear before realizing she didn’t know what to say, especially if she wasn’t to give away her brother’s identity. “Are you—” She swallowed back the rest of her question.

“I am.”

It was her brother’s voice. Her heart leaped inside of her.

“Don’t give my friend any trouble.” Thaddeus didn’t use Kirk’s name. Then, as though he suspected she might have her doubts, Thad assured her, “You can trust him completely. Right now, he might be the only person you can trust.”

“What’s going on?” Stasi asked, knowing that if her brother had heard a report on the news, he might have more information than they did.

“All I know is that there’s been an uprising. No one has claimed responsibility as of yet.”

Stasi hesitated. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but she wasn’t sure what she could say without giving away important details if their conversation wasn’t private.

“Take care. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Stasi couldn’t fight back her tears. She handed the closed phone back to Kirk with a trembling hand.

Kirk lifted the lid on another of the compartments that blended in seamlessly with the stone walls—secret enclosures she wouldn’t have guessed were there had she not watched him open them. He fished out a sleeping bag and handed her the candle.

“I need to get going. Try to get some rest. I’ll be back for you as soon as I’m able.” He pressed the phone into her other hand, closing her trembling fingers securely over it. “I can’t allow this to fall into the wrong hands now that I’ve used it to call your brother. But please, don’t use it unless there’s an emergency. If I’m not back in three days, your brother will send someone for you.”

Fear whipped up a froth of questions in her mind. “But how will I know—”

“Just trust me.” The tips of his fingers hovered an inch from her lips, silencing her questions without touching her royal mouth. “I have no intention of being gone more than a few hours, but it would be irresponsible of me not to provide a backup plan given the circumstances.”

Kirk bent his head close to hers in the flickering candlelight. “I just don’t want you to worry.” He took a step back and spread his arms wide. “Enjoy this beautiful island. Your brother loved this place. Your ancestors did, too.”

He looked down at her.

She tried to raise a smile to her lips, but sorrow and fear wouldn’t let her. “My code name is Juliet?” There were too many details for her to keep track of them all, but she figured that one might be important if she had to contact her brother again. “What is Thad’s code name?”

“Regis.”

“And yours?”

Kirk turned his back to her, pulling a pillow from the storage space that had looked so much like the rest of the stone wall before he’d lifted its secret lid. “You don’t need to know mine.”

“But what if—”

He gently tipped up her chin with the tips of his fingers. “It will all come out all right.”

Looking into his eyes, which were earnest and sincere, Stasi wished she could believe him. “How do you know?”

“God is in charge. And God is good.”

She took a shaky breath. “How could God let a thing like this happen?”

“Your Highness—” He spoke her title slowly, sweetly. She liked the sound of it on his lips. “It is night now, but the sun will shine again. Have faith.” He dropped her chin and walked away through the darkness.

As she watched him go, she clutched her little candle. Her heart twisted out a desperate prayer that everything would come out all right, somehow—though she couldn’t imagine how.

The moon was high when Kirk docked his boat and resolutely stepped onto the pier. He’d formed a plan in his mind as he’d sailed into Sardis, and now he headed for his parents’ place, a small cottage behind the palace. Albert and Theresa Covington both held high positions in the royal household. If there was any news, they would know it. And he needed them to see that he was all right. After all that had happened, he knew they would be worrying.

He carried his duffel bag back to the Jeep, which was parked, undisturbed, where he’d left it. A good sign. It meant that, however coordinated the attack on the royal family might have been, whoever was behind it had not yet gotten around to making an organized search for the Jeep. That much made sense. They’d probably have much more urgent priorities.

The sound of the lapping sea faded as Kirk started the vehicle. It was after midnight and no one appeared to be anywhere around. Kirk drove toward the palace and parked along a side street a couple of blocks away, pulling out his personal items from where he’d stashed them, tossing them into the duffel bag, then walking the rest of the distance.

Skirting the rear gate of the royal grounds, Kirk decided to scale the wall instead of using his thumbprint to gain entry. Granted, the print would be easier, but his entrance would be recorded in the security computer. He couldn’t risk giving away his location—not with the likelihood that someone might soon get around to looking for him.

Fortunately, he’d had plenty of practice scaling the castle walls with Thaddeus when they were growing up. He made it over without any trouble and found his way to the cottage.

There was still a light on in the kitchen. Kirk tried the door and found it locked, but he knocked and his mother answered, pulling him into a tight hug, and then, a moment later, shaking him by his shoulders.

“They said you’d been killed at the marina,” Theresa Covington accused her son.

His father, Albert, rose from his seat at the table. “Folks saw you driving Princess Stasi in a Jeep. It was on the news. There’s a rumor that the two of you were killed and your bodies thrown into the sea.”

“Did you believe it?” Kirk asked, looking back and forth from one parent to the other. He wasn’t at all surprised that someone might report him dead, and Princess Stasi killed, too. But he thought his parents had more faith in him than to believe such an obviously false report.

“We don’t know what to believe.” His mother wore a wary expression. “They’re reporting the whole royal family has been killed in an ambush.”

“And yet—” his father leaned in and spoke quietly “—from what I’ve heard, there aren’t any bodies—not that fit the royal family, anyway. Two drivers and a guard were killed in the blasts. I knew all three of them.” As the longtime head butler and estate manager at the palace, Kirk’s father knew everyone who worked there—even those who worked outside of the main castle.

Kirk felt the sting of loss that innocent people had died. But at the same time, his father’s words buoyed his hope. If the bodies of the royal family hadn’t been found, then they still were alive. Somewhere. “Stasi will be glad to hear it.”

“She’s alive, then?” Theresa Covington finally let go of her son’s shoulders.

“Alive and safe, for now,” Kirk assured them both. “I don’t know who barricaded her in her room, but thank God they did—that’s why she missed her ride in the limousine. She was with me in the Jeep when the first blast hit. But that’s where the truth of that rumor ends. I got her out of Sardis as quickly as I could.”

“But now what will you do?” his father asked.

“I was hoping to learn what’s happened to the rest of her family—she’s desperate for news of them. I’d like to believe they’ve survived. If we can locate any of them, I’ll take Stasi to them. Otherwise, I’ll take her to Thaddeus. In the meantime, though, I may have to hide her. I’ll need supplies.”

His parents tensed when he mentioned the name of the presumed-dead heir to the Lydian throne. Though Kirk had assured them long ago that Thaddeus was alive and well, he knew they, like the rest of the Lydian population, still sometimes wondered if he hadn’t possibly committed the crime he’d been accused of. His folks had stood by him, but he hadn’t given them any more reason to believe him than he’d granted anyone else. He’d promised Thad. And he was a man of his word.

Kirk had many questions for his parents. “Who was behind the attacks? And what do they want?”

“I’ve not heard a motive, and no one has claimed responsibility yet.” Albert pointed to a small television set in the corner of the kitchen that was broadcasting news updates with the volume turned low. “I don’t know what will happen, or what will become of the Royal House of Lydia.”

“What about the two of you? Headed back to the U.S.?” Kirk’s parents were both American citizens. His mother had been best friends with Queen Elaine when they were both girls, growing up in a small town near Atlanta, Georgia. When Elaine had married then-Prince Philip, Albert and Theresa had come to Lydia to work for her. They’d remained close friends with the royal family, and Theresa was still best friends with Queen Elaine. But given the circumstances and their known allegiance to the royal family, they would likely be safer back in America.

At his suggestion, his parents exchanged worried looks.

“We’ve talked about it,” Albert admitted.

But Theresa shook her head. “There’s no threat to our lives. As long as the royal family remains unaccounted for, I feel we have to stay. What if one of them tries to contact us? I came to Lydia to help my best friend. I can’t run out on her in her time of need.”

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.”

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