Prince's Secret Baby

by Riley Rollins

  My eyes dart around the room, scanning it for any kind of weapon I can use. Anything I can grab to ward off her blade.

  Suddenly, and as a miracle, my prayers are answered. There's a banging on the door and the handle rattles.

  "Jenna!" booms a voice through the door. "Jenna! Are you in there?" It's the unmistakable sound of Nikolai's voice.

  "Yes," I scream, and the sound of my voice nearly pierces my own eardrums.

  The would-be assassin is temporarily distracted as she whirls around to face the door.

  The door handle rattles one more time. Then, Nikolai bellows from the other side, "Stand back."

  A huge, gleaming silver sword, the same color as the one the assassin wields, comes stabbing through the door. Wood fibers and splinters explode into the room, the door cut apart by Nikolai's sword. The blade withdraws from the door, and then comes crashing through again, this time blasting the handle and the lock completely off the door. The door frame splinters, and then the door flies off its hinges.

  There stands Nikolai, boot up, having just kicked in the door.

  Josh starts bawling in my arms, and the assassin whirls back toward me. I see her eyes through a slit in the fabric, and they're full of hatred. It's a moment of choice for her—she can either come at me, or she can whirl around and defend herself against Nikolai.

  She looks back and forth in a split second. Then, she raises her blade and charges toward me.

  I remember a time when I was a freshman in high school. It was a Saturday, and I was at the mall with my mom. All the Christmas decorations were up, including a huge fake tree that reached all the way up to the second story. We'd just spent the afternoon buying last-minute gifts, and we were getting dinner at the food court. We were at one of those Asian joints where they lure you in with free samples on toothpicks. So we sat down to eat, and there was a mother with her young daughter sitting next to us. The kid was maybe five or six years old, and had a big plate of fried rice in front of her. The kid's picking around at the food, and then all of the sudden, just smashes her face down in the huge container of fried rice. She sits back up and starts giggling. Fried rice is falling all over the place, and the mother looks like she's about to lose her shit. I remember turning to my mom, and saying, "I'll never have kids. I'm too selfish."

  And that's ironic. Because while I'm standing here, this crazed woman about to bring her sword crashing down on me, I think only of my son and not of myself.

  The blade begins to fall over my head, my back pressed up against one of the wooden wardrobes in the room. I dart to the left, covering Josh with my arms. I turn my head to watch the woman and I see her blade crash into the antique wood, lodging in it. She gives it a mighty tug, but it doesn't come free. And that's what kills her.

  Nikolai covers the remaining distance between him and the assassin with only two or three strides. He's running, holding his sword above his head with two hands, the blade pointed straight at her. His hair flies back behind his head, like some kind of hero come to rescue his damsel in distress.

  The assassin twists her head to look behind her, still wrestling with the stuck sword, and that's when I know it's too late for her. Nikolai closes the distance and brings his blade sailing down. It sinks into the woman's back with a crunching noise, and then the tip of the blade appears from her stomach. A mist of blood sprays back onto Nikolai's face.

  Damn. All the way from the shoulder to the belly.

  The woman slumps down but doesn't fall, her body weight hanging from Nikolai's sword like a sack of potatoes on a flagpole.

  He must have tremendous strength. It doesn't even look like he struggles to support her weight.

  With a great heave, he pulls the sword out the way it went in and the woman's body slumps to the floor. A pool of blood begins to spread over the Persian rug beneath. A timeless treasure destroyed by the blood of a murderer.

  He drops his sword with a thud, and rushes to where I kneel, pressing Josh to my breast.

  "Darling," he says, urgently running his hands over my arms and shoulders, "Are you hurt? The baby?"

  "We're okay," I say. "Both of us."

  Then, tears well up in my eyes and I start to cry. I can't stop myself.

  "Take him," I say, and Nikolai lifts Josh out of my arms with his strong hands. He uses one arm to cradle Josh again his broad shoulder, and he runs the other hand through my hair.

  He shushes me. "It's okay."

  I sniffle tearfully. "Wh—what if you hadn't come?" I'm completely overwhelmed with emotion, and worried about our baby.

  "Darling," he says, caressing my cheek, "I will always be there during your time of need."

  "Help me up." I extend my hand to him.

  He pulls me up, his strength supporting me when I need it most. He pulls me close, so he's holding both the baby and me against his shoulders. I bury my face in the fabric of his shirt, and I lose myself in his scent, his body, his touch. In that moment, I feel as if he's the greatest man I've ever known. I want to tell him that I love him, but doubt about the future lingers in my mind, and I can't bring myself to say it, even when I try to move my lips.

  Not just yet.

  I finally pull away from him, and he slides his hand down around my waist, pulling me into him. I look up into his handsome face. "How did you know to come?" I ask.

  "Security cameras in the palace halls. Hidden. A security alert went out," he says, pointing at the dead body on the floor next to us. "I was thirty seconds away, and this ceremonial sword hung on the wall right next to me."

  Holy shit. As I pull it together, I'm astounded by what he's telling me. He was completely willing to put his life on the line for me and the baby. Willing to go up against an assassin, using nothing more than a ceremonial sword.

  This is the kind of shit that Hollywood movies are made of, but apparently now it's my life.

  "Come," he says, "We must get you to my quarters. It is the only place I can keep you safe."

  I look him in the eyes. I have so many questions. "How the hell can this happen in your own palace?"

  He looks grim. "You and I know this criminal was sent by my father. But what am I to do? Announce my suspicions to the royal government? He has too many loyal allies."

  "Go to his quarters," I say, anger flooding my veins. "Confront him. Right now."

  He shakes his head grimly. "I fear we would walk right into a trap."

  "Then what if we leave? Run away from all this." As soon as I say the words, I know it was a stupid suggestion.

  "No," he says. "I will not run from my own palace. And I will neither abandon my post, nor my people."

  "So what now? How long until we make our move?"

  "I will go see my mother tonight and we will see if she is on the right side of history. Until then, the only place I can keep you safe is in my own quarters. Yet previously, you denied me this request."

  A grim, slight smile comes over my face. "That was before. I've seen how you treat the baby. You're a good man, Nikolai. Take us there and keep us safe."

  He takes me by the hand and leads me out of the room, leaving the corpse behind. We pass a contingent of guards rushing toward the room—arriving in minutes when we only had seconds. I thank god that Nikolai came when he did.

  "Captain," says Nikolai, pausing to address the lead man. "Clean up the mess in that room. And double the guard detail on my quarters at once."

  The man dips his head. "Yes, my prince." Then he and his men hurry around us, toward my blood-soaked room.

  Nikolai takes me to his quarters and locks the door behind us. Josh is exhausted. We put him to bed in a wicker basket.

  Nikolai and I shower together. Then, he takes me to bed and makes love to me.

  That night, we meet with Nikolai's mother, the Queen of North Molvania. Nikolai waffles on whether to take me along, but he decides that I'm safer coming with him than staying in his quarters. And despite the full complement of guards outside his quarters, I agree. I trust him
far more than the guards to protect me if anything else happens.

  Before we go, Nikolai unlocks a drawer in his desk and pulls out a metal box. I watch intently, and what he pulls out troubles me. It's a stainless steel revolver. He reaches back into the metal container, and there's the sound of metal-on-metal rattling. He pulls out a handful of rounds, and loads them into the cylinder of the gun. Six in total.

  I eye him, cocking an eyebrow. "You planning to use that tonight?"

  "There has been enough blood spilled tonight," he says. "This is a last resort."

  There's an obvious question, but I decide to leave it unasked—a last resort against another attacker?

  Or as a last resort against the King?

  He puts the revolver into his pocket and crosses the room to pick up Josh from his wicker basket. "I'm not leaving him here," he says.

  "What happens when the Queen finds out we have a baby?"

  He grits his teeth. "Damn." He hesitates.

  "What about Marcha?"

  "What about her?"

  "She can watch him. Just until we get back."

  "You really trust this woman?"

  "She brought Josh here. She's not gonna backstab us now."

  Nikolai thinks, then nods. "Very well."

  We put Josh in the wicker basket and swaddle him tightly until the poor little guy is disguised as a basket of sheets. I pray that he'll be quiet while we take him to Marcha.

  Nikolai leads us out of his quarters, holding Josh in the basket, and I follow close behind. Thankfully, we make it to Marcha without anyone catching onto us. "Please take care of him," I say to her. "We'll be back as soon as we can."

  "If you aren't?" she asks.

  I pause. I hadn't considered that outcome. "Then get him out of here. Back to Ashley in the United States."

  She nods, grimly.

  We leave Marcha and Josh. Nikolai leads me through the maze of black marble hallways, and soon we turn a direction I haven't gone before. It leads to one very long hallway with no doors on either side. There's only a set of steel double doors at the very end of the passage. In front of it, two guards stand ready.

  "My prince," says one of the guards as we approach. "How may we be of service?"

  "I'm here to see my mother," says Nikolai.

  "My liege, she has asked not to be—"

  Nikolai interrupts him. "It's urgent."

  The guard looks apprehensive and steals a glance at the other one standing next to him. He gives a slight shrug. "By your command, my prince." Each man pulls a key ring out of his pocket, and I notice that there are two locks on the door. They each insert a key and turn them simultaneously.

  The door unseals with a hiss and pops open a couple inches. One of the guards grabs the handle and pulls the door open. It opens very slowly and looks very heavy.

  "Enter, my prince."

  Nikolai enters and I follow behind him.

  The Queen's quarters are, in a word, opulent. Everything seems to be made of gold and the furniture is all dark red velvet. The Queen sits on a sofa in the center of the room, reading from a stack of papers she holds in her hands. She looks up at us as we enter.

  "Mother," says Nikolai.

  "Son. What business brings you here, unannounced, at this hour?"

  "The business is serious, mother."

  The Queen drops her stack of papers onto the sofa with a thud.

  "Then sit." The Queen glances at me but doesn't speak to me.

  "Mother," says Nikolai, "I cannot sugarcoat this. Father has become a monster. I intend to remove him from power and I need your help."

  The Queen tilts her head back, locking eyes with Nikolai, alarmed by his words. She doesn't reply at first, and thick tension envelops the room. At last, she says softly, "Son, I am afraid you know not what you say."

  "I do," replies Nikolai sharply. "Mother, tonight an attempt was made on my lady's life. I know it was father's doing. And I expect that I am next. Father disagrees with me and I suspect he will interfere with my ascent to the throne. We no longer see eye-to-eye about the future of this country." He leaves out the part about the existence of his son, and the attempted kidnapping.

  I thank god Josh isn't here. I don't want anyone else knowing about him. Not the King, not the Queen, not anyone.

  "Tell me son, why do you say this? Why do you put this burden on me?"

  The Queen glances at me before returning her gaze to Nikolai. I wonder if she knew about the assassin.

  "Mother," says Nikolai, "I have been to Lampara. To its neighboring villages. And I have been to the camps in the south."

  The Queen shifts in her seat.

  "I have seen first-hand our people's suffering. I will not—cannot—abide it any longer. Father must be removed from power."

  "Son," the Queen says, turning her palms up in the air. "Think of what you are saying. These things you speak of, they are not in your domain. They do not concern you."

  Inside, my stomach drops. This was a failure. The Queen isn't going to help us.

  Nikolai stands up and looks down at the Queen. "They do concern me. As heir to the crown of the royal throne. And as a leader concerned with the welfare of my people. Mother, this is a farce."

  "Think of what you say," says the Queen, looking up at Nikolai. He towers over her, but she holds the power right now. "Our family has everything. All we need. Son, this is a dog-eat-dog world. Think about yourself. And of her," she says, motioning toward me.

  "I am tired of thinking only of myself, mother," says Nikolai, clenching his fists.

  "Then perhaps you should leave, son."

  "I will not."

  The Queen looks at me and addresses me for the first time. "Tell me, woman, what think you of this?"

  I'm nervous, but I muster the courage to speak. "I think the world has moved on, and the time has passed for rulers like you and your husband."

  She shrugs. "Son," she says, turning to Nikolai again. "I advise you to think very hard before you throw away what our family has built up."

  "What it has stolen," says Nikolai.

  "Son," she says, "You are the rightful heir to this throne. I respect the line of succession, and I will not interfere. Do what you must. I will not stand in your way. But I will not help you either. I urge you to consider what I have said today."

  The Queen picks up her stack of papers again. "Now leave me."

  I glance at Nikolai nervously and then follow him out of the Queen's quarters.

  9

  I lie in bed with Nikolai, leaning my head against his bare chest. His dark, curly hair rubs against my smooth cheek. I love how he's both rough and pretty. A tough, royal boy who can handle his shit and look good doing it.

  I try not to think about how our plan is now in shambles.

  My head wouldn't look very good hanging up in the Caprion town square.

  I run my fingertips up and down his hard belly, tracing the contours and indentations of his abs. Everything about his body is so taut, hard, and strong.

  "So what are we gonna do?" I say. It comes out more like a statement than a question. Everything feels so uncertain right now.

  He bites his lip and shakes his head slowly, deep in thought. "I have to do this the old-fashioned way."

  "The old-fashioned way?" I hesitate. "You mean… killing… your father?"

  I'm aghast at the idea, but part of me feels like it's the only way. I mean, the man already tried to kill me once. There's no telling what he's capable of, what he might do next. Whatever it is, it won't be good, and a man like him isn't safe to keep around.

  But Nikolai shakes his head. "My little pet, if there is one thing you've taught me, it is that we must rise above. If we are to make this country a country of justice and rule of law, we must start here. We must send him before a judge and jury. They will decide his sentence."

  I feel half relieved, half scared. "I guess you're right. We can't stoop down to his level."

  "And," he says, pondering his word
s carefully, "it is not an easy thought for a son to consider killing his father. No matter what wrongs the father has perpetrated."

  I snuggle my face between Nikolai's arm and ribcage. Maybe if I burrow myself deep enough inside him, all of this will just go away.

  But I can't help thinking about his words, and they make sense. I'm no big fan of my parents, but if my father committed some heinous crime against me, I don't think I could bring myself to hurt him. I can understand Nikolai's struggle, and I don't blame him for the way he feels. And he's right. If we're going to get the country back on the right track, it's going to take some hard decisions. It's going to take rising above. Not going in with guns blazing, thirsty for revenge. We're going to have to be smart.

  But first, we need to clear our heads.

  I plant kisses on his arm, and my hand finds its way down to his waistband. Under the sheets, he's naked except for his boxers.

  I slide a finger under the elastic waistband, and my fingertips brush up against his cock. It's halfway between soft and hard. But I think I can make it harder.

  "Babe," I say, "Let me help you relax." I swirl my fingertips around the head of his cock. They glide over a drop of pre-cum on the tip, lubricating my fingers, making them slide smoothly.

  "Do it," he says, his voice husky with need.

  I tug on his boxers. "Take these off."

  He reaches down, the muscles in his arm flexing and bulging as he does so. God, he's so delicious. He slides his boxers down below his knees, and his manhood springs free, now fully erect. I wrap my hand completely around the head of his cock.

  "I wanna watch it shoot out," I say. "I want you to show me how much I can make you cum."

  "Fuck," he says, "Then don't just talk about it. Make me cum for you, darling."

  I spit in my hand, mixing my saliva with his pre-cum. I twist my hand up and down his shaft, matching my rhythm to the bucking of his hips. I know he's under a lot of stress right now, and I want to make all of that stress erupt right out of his cock. I want to please my man. I want to help him.

  It doesn't take long. I jerk him for a few minutes, and his hips start to buck harder and harder, until he finally groans and whispers into my ear, "Oh, shit."