Protecting the Princess

“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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