Hers was a tone and manner that assured the listener of only two choices: obedience or else. It proved as effective in this case as in most others.
Roger’s thinned lips said he did not like the situation, but he turned to the man next to him and ordered him to join Angelica, then returned to clearing the street so they could get the king’s car out of there.
People were still screaming and running, trying to get away from the area. The security detail had to consider every possibility. The fact that the bomb had gone off so far from them could mean that the intent was to get the King’s car pinned.
However, it didn’t appear as though anyone was coming at them. It was possible that the royal family hadn’t been the target. Or, perhaps they had been, but the timing had just been off.
Roger’s man pulled a Kevlar vest out of one of the security cars and handed it to her. “If you’re going to remain out here, I insist.”
She wasn’t stupid. She slipped it over her head and velcroed it into place. “How far out are the other emergency crews?”
The look on her security guard’s face was grim. “We’ve got another five minutes at least for the whole team to arrive, and that’s if they can get through the gridlock.”
Five minutes was a long time for someone in need. She headed closer to the scene. “I need your name.”
“Harrison.”
“American?” Because that was not a local last name.
“Yes.”
She was not familiar with her brother’s bodyguards, but since Celipa was scheduled for the night shift, he would have to do. Besides, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders and that’s really all she needed. “What information do we—”
“What are you doing here?” A warm hand gripped her arm, turning her around. She stared up into Ludwig’s blue eyes in a face covered in gray dust.
Harrison shoved him away and she had to intervene. “It’s okay. I know him.”
“We need to get her to safety,” Ludwig shouted to Harrison as he tried to pull her back to the other end of the street.
She planted her feet on the ground. “My people are here.”
“What?” Both of Ludwig’s ears still felt as if they had been plunged by ice picks at once.
“My people are here,” she repeated. “Their blood is on the street.” She saw Ludwig searching her face, and his expression indicated a struggle to either protect her or to respect her. He’d shown a great deal of respect the night before. She needed more of that now. “Help me.”
“Fine.” It was the hardest thing for him to stand there and watch her, knowing potential danger could be anywhere. But he also saw and understood the light in her eyes; saw what was going on inside her, and a part of him rose to the challenge. He wasn’t going to back down from this fiery woman, but he wasn’t going to allow her to blindly run into danger either. “You will not take unnecessary risks.”
But afterwards, they were going to have a conversation. A very serious one.
31
As she followed the smoke, Angelica saw the destruction take a more horrible sight than broken windows and crushed cars in flames: mangled bodies.
Twelve to fifteen, all really just mangled, almost as if they were melted together, a pile of bodies. Most of them dead, some still alive. A few people wailed. Others were too shocked to even ask for help.
She paused, her trembling hand over her mouth as she watched the pile, casualties of an increase in militant violence in recent years.
At first, all she could do was look around shocked at the destruction and carnage.
“Let’s go,” Ludwig pulled her arm when she made to go to one severely injured man. “We can do nothing for those people but you can help others.”
The injured were being assisted at a triage that had been set up a safe distance away. The streets were blocked by flaming cars and the police, firemen, and a medical team were trying to put some order into the chaos.
The smoke and the pungent smell of destruction and death asphyxiated residents and medics trying to win a war against time while dozens were rushed to the hospitals nearby in screaming ambulances. The first responders were rightfully concerned with the injured, but there were other types of trauma that didn’t cause anyone to come running and offering aid.
She looked around, searching for something, but she didn’t know what. Angelica heard someone coughing. She turned and saw a young mother sitting on the curb downstream from the smoking wreckage. The woman was holding a baby to her chest, her hands trembling between frequent bouts of coughing as the smoke rolled over them.
“What do you need? I can help,” Ludwig offered.
“I want every victim cared for—not just the injured. How can we help them?” she asked, indicating a young mother and her baby, and then others nearby, covered in dust, paralyzed in shock.
Ludwig looked around quickly, saw something, then ordered Harrison, “Stay with her,” and took off in a sprint.
Angelica didn’t know what he was doing, but she was glad that he was doing something, and it pertained to what she wanted. She had to suppress the urge to cry as she took charge of the situation as much as she could. She didn’t command people individually—there were other people better suited to that—she used her authority to employ her personal skills: connecting with people and empathizing.
She went to the mother and baby, her guards following along, and led them across the street to a bus stop bench. She rushed over to an old man and slowly walked him over to the bench. As the old man gratefully took a seat next to the mother and child, Angelica looked around for more people needing someone to reach out and care and give them guidance.
By the time she had a small crowd of uncertain scared people gathered around the bus stop, a flatbed truck pulled up. Two men jumped off the back and Ludwig and the driver got out of the cab. The men began unloading material.
“What did you do?” Angelica asked.
“I got supplies,” he said simply, smiling as he looked into her lovely but distraught eyes.
Within minutes, the men with the truck had erected tents, set up folding chairs, and passed out blankets, bottles of water, and hand towels.
Angelica’s heart swelled, and she kissed him, right there in the street with flashing red and blue lights everywhere, the smoke still blowing down the street, fire hoses blasting the burning wreckage that was once an ambulance, and order slowly settling over the chaos, transforming the scene as everyone did something for somebody.
Angelica grabbed a hand towel, poured some bottled water over it and went to the young mother she had first assisted. She knelt down and gently began removing soot and dust from the baby’s face.
“Why must they continue to show this, this trash?” Celipa asked, exasperated. “It was only one moment in time, not the years of anguish we have suffered because of that family!”
Aguilar frowned as the princess’s face appeared on the small, old television set in yet another report about Angelica’s heroism after the explosion, how the princess had not hesitated to help the injured, organizing those who could walk, hugging frantic family members, helping with small children, even taking off her coat and giving it to a cold young girl.
“We need something bigger,” replied Americo. “Something that will make the people hate the princess and all that she’s attempting to repair.”
Aguilar pushed out of the chair and paced the floor as the others ranted and discussed among them what they could do to destroy the image the princess was creating. The princess had unequivocally rejected Abelardo’s advances and no matter what obstacles they were putting in her path, she was overcoming them.
They were all working for the common good, and the princess, no matter how hard she tried, was not the common good. Yet none of their current plans were working.
The Castella y Aragon family could not be their future—or rather, Aguilar Castro’s future. Because Aguilar couldn’t care less about the future of the Aragonese or anyone
else.
“Gather the others.” Aguilar stopped in the middle of the barn and looked at the Dragonslayers, who stood, with a gleam in their eyes. “It’s time to formulate a final plan. It’s time to eliminate the princess and the royal family once and for all.”
Seychelles
Siobhan bit her lip as she heard the phone ring in her ear, her heart hammering in her chest. Not even the laid-back tempo of the topaz waters lapping at the talcum-powder beach made her feel better. Never had she felt so worried about the people that she barely knew. Angelica and Valantín had become part of her life in the most unexpected way, but she had grown to care for them.
“Hello?”
“Angelica,” she said, letting out a breath. “Are you alright?”
“Siobhan.” Angelica exhaled. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine.”
“But the explosion.” Siobhan had watched the footage more than once on the news, her stomach dropping every single time at how close it had been to taking the royal family away from her.
“We’re okay,” Angelica repeated. “Though I wish I could say the same for everyone else.”
“I saw you helping the injured,” Siobhan said, pride welling up in her chest. “I’m so proud of you and what you’re doing there in Aragon.”
“Thank you,” Angelica said, emotion in her voice. “It has been difficult, but I feel as if we have truly helped the people of Aragon. I want to do so much more, Siobhan. It’s hard to figure out where to even begin.”
“I know they appreciate all you are doing,” Siobhan answered, gripping the phone. She wished to be there instead of in the dreamy tropical paradise of the Seychelles; to hug them all and see in person that they were indeed fine. To help them. “Please, make sure you’re safe. Valantín and Maria as well.”
“We are safe,” her sister replied. “Perhaps safer than we ever were. I have so many guards I don’t know if I can even count them now.”
“I wish I was there.”
“I do too,” Angelica sighed. “But we’re fine. I’ll pass along your worries to my stepbrother. He’ll be glad to hear you called.”
“Please let me know if there is anything I can do,” Siobhan urged her. “I want to help. Maybe I can be there for you.”
“I’ll talk with Valantín and let you know.”
They talked a bit more about how Siobhan might be able to help them.
When Angelica ended the call, Siobhan stared at the lush hills covered with well-preserved native forests before her. She was relieved now that she had told Angelica she was willing to help.
Now she just had to convince Angus.
32
The wounded had been taken to the hospital. The rescue workers were still searching the rubble. A fire crew was still on the scene, extinguishing remaining fires. The demolition team had been brought in to evaluate the buildings which had taken the most damage.
After several hours, it finally felt as though things were beginning to come under control when Ludwig put Angelica in the limousine and they made their way to the palace through a silent and dark city.
The surprisingly modern beat of San José had been substituted by an occasional wail of a siren or a church bell tolling and the intimate and seductive air of the two-thousand-year-old city was awash in artificial light as policemen on foot and on horseback patrolled the streets.
Even before the limousine stopped in front of the Harem gardens, Angelica’s legs had started to shake. She could smell the explosives on her clothes and hair, feel the dirt and blood on her skin. It felt like her entire body was covered with it.
She hated the feeling. But she hated more the images of suffering and despair, and worse, the total apathy and hopelessness she had seen in the eyes of many children, women, and men. The lack of tears, the lack of a voice to ask for help, made her want to weep.
But she could not break down now. People were expecting the same strong princess that had bandaged wounds and comforted those that were injured. Somehow, through the adrenaline high, she had cut off any emotions that had flooded her body right after the explosion, focusing on the task at hand.
But that had been when she had something to focus on.
Ludwig stretched out his hand to help her step out the car and his arm went around her waist, giving her the strength to put one foot in front of the other.
Together, she and Ludwig walked through the courtyard, passing the palace employees as they made their way to the room where her family waited. Some gave a kind smile, some had tears in their eyes as they passed, but no one said a word. Angelica would have given anything to have one of them, any of them, say something. She didn’t want sympathy, she wanted normalcy.
But still she walked, Ludwig’s hand warm in hers as they entered the drawing room.
“Oh, mi hija,” her mother cooed, reaching for her the moment Angelica moved through the doorway. “You shouldn’t have stayed there. I was so worried.”
Angelica fought back the tears as she hugged Anchela, the familiar smell of her mother’s perfume comforting her.
She could see that they were all worried about her, that they cared. She could have lost her life today in more ways than one, and some of their citizens had. While there was a small part of her that was pleased with the reception she received upon her return, it irked her as well. She was more than a treasure that needed to be hoarded away. In the twenty-first century, it was difficult finding her place as a leader and as a woman. She needed to be seen as strong. She needed those around her to support her strength. But all she really wanted in this moment was for Ludwig to reach over and hold her in his arms. She wanted him to tell her under no uncertain terms that he was taking her to her room and that he was going to keep her safe. It was almost as if she were two different women residing in the same body. And she didn’t know how to make the two of them meet in the middle.
“Give her some room,” Valantín said softly, as Angelica stepped back from her mother and was immediately swamped by Maria’s hug. The tenderness in his eyes when she met his gaze nearly undoing her. He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she forced out. “In need of a shower, but I’m okay. How many are dead?”
“I don’t think we should discuss that now.” Valantín ran a hand through his hair as Ludwig tucked an arm around her waist, his eyes following Ludwig’s every move.
“I think you are right,” her mother chimed in, tears in her eyes. “Lives were lost today, and we will mourn them appropriately tomorrow.”
But her mother’s voice waned in Angelica’s ears. She drew in a deep breath, leaning against Ludwig for support, as the world zoned in and out in a strange way. Her practiced eye scanned over the arrangement of slender tapers, the presentation of pale pink and green mints in crystal candy dishes on the center table, the sherbet-colored pillows on the curved-back sofa where her mother was sitting so worried, grabbing Maria’s hand. When she placed the image side to side with the destruction she had witness today, it made her shudder from head to toe. It made her sick. The Harem was a place she had been so happy to move into.
Ludwig squeezed her waist. “I think Angelica could use some rest.”
“I agree,” Valantín said, with a nod to Ludwig. “We will discuss our plans of action later, Hermanita.”
Angelica gave them all a vacant smile as Ludwig led her out of the living room, toward her chambers upstairs, directly to the bathroom
She swallowed, looking about the calm powder-blue and baby-green spa space that was her bathroom. Ludwig had only turned on the Moroccan lanterns, which warmed it up with a soothing touch rather than fill it up with too much light.
Once he closed the door, Ludwig dropped his touch on her waist. “What do you need, Liebchen?”
“I don’t know, honestly.” She wanted to feel warm on the inside again. She wanted to erase the terror she had seen today and replace it with something else. Anything else.
“A shower,” he said after a moment
, stepping out of his shoes. “We both need a shower and then a relaxing bath.”
Angelica watched him turn on the bath heat, more of a pool really. Then he tested the shower, making sure the water was warm, and only then did he strip off his ruined clothes.
His blond hair was gray with soot, his handsome face streaked with dirt, and even the light in his electric blue eyes was dimmed. Ludwig had not left her side for one second, had allowed her to do what she needed to do, not what was politically acceptable. In that instance, she hadn’t been a princess and he was accepting of that.
When he came toward her, she was still frozen in the same place.
“A shower,” he reminded her, reaching for the hem of her top. “Let me help.”
She allowed him to pull the silk top over her head and take off her bra, her body starting to tremble as he unzipped her skirt, letting it fall, and helped her to step out of her underwear, without saying a word.
She was about to fall apart. She knew it was written on her face, in the hitch of her breath. She could see he was rattled as well, but attempting not to show it to her, probably worried about what state she was in. The carnage, the horror they had experienced today had also torn him apart.
“Come.”
She put her hand in his a moment later and let him lead her to the shower, shivering as she stepped into the warm stream of water.
When he pulled her against him and ran a soothing hand down her back, she whispered, “Ludwig.”
“I won’t run if you cry, Kätzchen,” he whispered in her hair.
It had been many years since Angelica had allowed herself to cry.
She did, now. She buried her face in Ludwig’s strong chest and sobbed.
Crying didn’t solve any problems, but not crying hadn’t proven particularly effective, either. She’d always thought it weak to indulge in tears, but nothing else seemed to answer for the situation. And it felt strangely exhilarating to let her tears loose.
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