Protecting the Princess

“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—”