Saving the Princess

by Helena Newbury

  The second thing was the change in me. Not just the warm, pleasant ache between my thighs or the way my breasts still throbbed with the memory of his hard fingers. I’d done it. That moment I’d been thinking about for so long had happened. It had been completely different to the way I’d imagined it: a four poster bed and Egyptian cotton sheets and some earnest, well-bred man atop me. And so, so much better.

  The third thing I couldn’t figure out at first because it was something that was missing. I lay there trying to figure it out for a few minutes and then sat up, frowning.

  Garrett sat up, too, and kissed my bare shoulder. Then he got up and ambled across the room and started making coffee. His naked ass made it difficult to concentrate, but this was important. What was it that was missing?

  Then I got it, and drew in my breath. I hadn’t had the nightmare.

  “Something wrong?” Garrett passed me a cup of coffee and sat down on the bed.

  I shook my head and smiled a shy smile. No! Everything was so very right!

  But he turned and glanced at the door that led out to the suite. Where Emerik and Jakov and Caroline and reality were waiting. Then he looked towards the window. I followed his gaze and my stomach filled with cold dread.

  It was dawn. In just a few hours, we’d have to go to his friend’s airfield. Then I’d get on a plane. Without him.

  “No,” I said tightly. “I want to stay.”

  “It’s dangerous here—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Kristina—”

  “This is the first time,” I blurted, my voice cracking, “that I haven’t felt alone!”

  He lowered his eyes guiltily. I didn’t want that. I grabbed his hand and, when he looked at me, I leaned forward and slowly kissed him. I needed him to know that I didn’t regret it.

  He nodded. But from the way he squeezed my hand, I knew his heart was breaking, too.

  “We could make it work,” I whispered. But I knew it wasn’t that simple. I’d had so many years of the them and us, commoner and royalty mentality from the palace staff, from Emerik, and especially from my mother. I didn’t agree with it. But I wasn’t naive enough to think I could just ignore it, either.

  And it wasn’t just that. “You deserve better than a grunt,” Garrett told me. “Especially one who’s….” He lowered his eyes and let my hand fall through his fingers.

  I grabbed his wrist. “What? Tell me?” He shook his head. “Garrett, please! You helped me. I want to help you, too.”

  But he shook his head again. It was almost as if us being split apart had locked that door for good. He wants me to remember him strong.

  He stood and started to pull his clothes on. I sat there slumped and despondent until he’d nearly finished. He leaned down and lifted my chin so that I had to look at him. “I gotta go back to my world,” he told me. “You gotta go back to yours.”

  It was everything I should have wanted: back to Lakovia, my parents, my people. A world I understood, a world I was safe in. Back to being a princess.

  Except, without him, I didn’t want that anymore.

  But my father taught me a long time ago that being royal isn’t about doing what you want. It’s about doing what your people need.

  So I nodded, then stood and pressed myself to him in a full body hug. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me in tight and we stood there silently for long minutes.

  “You’ll find a prince,” he whispered.

  “I already did,” I whispered back. I pulled out of his arms and turned away. I kept my back turned to him while I picked out some clothes because I was already blinking. I hurried into the bathroom, turned on the shower and only then did I let myself slump against the door and sob my heart out.

  When I emerged, the bedroom was empty. I found everyone in the living room, killing time until our flight by watching TV. It only took me a split second to realize that everyone knew. It must have been obvious as soon as the guards went to relieve Garrett during the night. They’d have found his room empty and my bedroom door closed and….

  Emerik was sitting with his hands neatly folded, radiating silent fury in Garrett’s direction. Jakov carefully avoided my eyes. Caroline looked awestruck and excited: tell me everything!

  And Garrett just stood by the door, as vigilant and watchful as ever. But when he glanced in my direction, I could see the raw pain in his eyes.

  I had to do something or I’d start crying again, so I sat next to Caroline and focused on the TV. It was a news channel and my father was on the screen, standing at a podium at the front of a packed hall.

  “He’s in Zurich,” said Caroline. “A speech about our social program.”

  I nodded. He was encouraging other countries to do what we’d done: scale back their military and spend on the poor, instead. I leaned in to listen. I was always in awe of the way he could inspire a crowd. Someday, I’d be expected to do the same and I had no idea how.

  And then I saw him. Just for a split second, as the camera cut to a different angle. I jumped to my feet.

  “What?!” asked Garrett.

  “I—” I blinked uncertainly at the screen. No. I couldn’t have. “I thought I saw….” But it was crazy. He was here, in America, not in Zurich. It was just my mind playing tricks on me.

  And then I saw him again, and this time I let out a scream. It was him. Dressed in a suit like the other dignitaries, standing at the back of the room. I’d never forget that pale face with its snide, downturned mouth. Silvas Lukin. “He’s there! Lukin is there!”

  We all looked at each other. Everyone made the connection at the same time.

  We’d been wrong about this thing the whole time. It wasn’t about just assassinating me.

  “Get him out of the room!” I screamed at Emerik. “Call someone!”

  But we’d thrown all of our phones away. Emerik had to waste vital seconds manually dialing on the hotel phone. “I’m calling Aleksander,” he muttered as the number rang. “He’ll be there.”

  All of us were staring at the screen, scared to watch, scared to look away. I was dimly aware that I’d grabbed Garrett’s hand and was squeezing it.

  “Code red!” snapped Emerik into the phone. “Assassin in the room! Evacuate the King!”

  He put the phone on speaker and we could hear the rustle of cloth and muffled voices. Long seconds ticked by. “Hurry!” snapped Emerik.

  “I’m sorry!” Aleksander sounded out of breath. “I’m in a crowd, trying to get to a guard!” More muffled voices. I imagined him trying to fight through the tightly-packed bodies. Hurry! Please hurry!

  And then we saw the guards on stage suddenly jerk to attention and run to my father. Aleksander must have finally delivered the message. They grabbed the King under the arms and rushed him away from the podium—

  A crimson flower erupted on his chest as a gunshot echoed through the room.

  37

  Garrett

  Kristina gave a strangled moan of horror. Her legs buckled and she would have fallen if I hadn’t looped an arm around her waist. I held her as we stared at the screen. The King was being carried off stage, his body limp. Then the news program cut to a white-faced news anchor in the studio.

  I realized Aleksander, the advisor, was still on the phone. We could hear him saying Oh my God, oh my God, over and over again. Then he said he’d call from the hospital and he was gone.

  And then we had to wait, powerless and desperate. I sat Kristina down on the couch and gripped her hand. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through. At least I’d been able to rush my dad to the hospital, to do something. She was stuck thousands of miles away.

  After ten minutes that felt like ten weeks, Aleksander called. The King was alive and in emergency surgery. The shooter had somehow slipped away, but they’d found his rifle. “It was my fault,” he kept saying. “I was too slow.”

  Kristina hushed him. “You did everything you could.”

  Almost an hour went by and then the scre
en lit up with a video call. I knew the woman must be in her fifties, but she looked no more than forty. Not a single strand of gray dared to break the pitch-black of her shoulder-length hair. Her blue business jacket and skirt were immaculately styled and cut to show off her ruthlessly-toned figure. I could see traces of Kristina in her eyes, although the princess looked much more like her father. But even if the resemblance hadn’t been there, I’d have known who she was from the way everyone bowed. “Your Majesty,” they all said in unison.

  “He’s still in surgery,” the Queen told Kristina. Unlike the King, she didn’t bother to acknowledge the staff, or me. “I’ve had the top specialists flown in but it’ll be a while before we know anything.” Her voice barely trembled and, though I could see a hint of tears at the corners of her eyes, it was as if they were imprisoned behind glass. She would not allow herself to show weakness.

  The Queen glanced at me and her eyes narrowed. When I followed her gaze, I realized she was glaring at our joined hands. Shit!

  “Mother, this is Mr. Buchanan,” said Kristina. “The man who’s been protecting me.”

  The Queen’s nod was quick and sharp as a scalpel. “Thank you,” she said, but her eyes seared into me as if she wanted to burn me off the face of the earth. When she ended the call, my stomach was knotted. She knows. Or suspects. And it wasn’t like the distrust I’d felt from Emerik. The Queen seemed to actually hate me, just because I was a commoner. It was a brutal reminder of the gulf between me and the princess. I glanced at Kristina’s troubled face. She was so much more like her father, trusting and kind. I tried to imagine what it must have been like, growing up with a mother that cold and hard. Had she always been like that?

  My stomach lurched. What if she hadn’t? What if becoming queen had done that to her? Was that what Kristina would be like, when she eventually took power?

  We had to wait another hour for the next update. This time it was Aleksander and, after the Queen, it was a relief to see his friendly face. But the news he had wasn’t good. “The bullet only clipped his heart: he moved just in time to save him. And the surgery went well. But…” He sighed. “He’s lapsed into a coma. The doctors don’t know when he will regain consciousness....”—he pressed his lips tight together—”... or even if he will.”

  Kristina nodded, her lower lip trembling.

  “What is clear is that this isn’t some simple act of revenge by an extremist group. They tried to assassinate you, now they’ve moved on to your father. This is an act of war by Garmania. They’re trying to wipe out the royal line, to destabilize our country.”

  “To what end?” croaked Kristina. From the way she said it, she already knew the answer.

  “So that they can invade again,” said Aleksander.

  Kristina nodded and ended the call. Then she hunched forward in her seat, almost curling herself into a ball, and began to sob. I reached for her, but she shook her head: give me a minute. I retreated to the hallway.

  And found Emerik standing there, arms crossed. It was the first time we’d been alone together that morning and I recognized the look he was giving me. It was the same look Katie Wagner’s brother had given me in high school when I’d asked her out. You hurt her, it said, and I’ll kill you.

  I gave him a slow, deliberate nod to show I understood. Then I made a pot of coffee for everyone. They were doing their best to hide it, for Kristina’s sake, but they were shaken: this was their King. He seemed like a really decent guy, despite being a politician. Hell, I’d only spoken to him once and even I liked him.

  While the coffee brewed, I called the hospital for an update on my dad. No change. The bullets had done so much damage that, at his age, he’d be in critical condition for days or even weeks. I should be with him, dammit. But I couldn’t leave her, not now.

  I tried to figure out what we should do. We knew now what the assassins had done after we’d finally plugged the leak and lost them in Texas. They’d flown to Lakovia to assassinate the King. They must have false passports, or the FBI would have stopped them at the airport. More evidence that someone high up was helping them.

  With them in Lakovia, Kristina should be safe in the US for now. If I could keep her off the grid, maybe she could wait this whole thing out. I just had to take her somewhere we could disappear. Someplace with plenty of tourists, where no one would look twice at a woman with a British accent. New Orleans! We’d rent a cheap room somewhere and just vanish.

  I handed out the coffee and marched through to the living room to tell Kristina. “Grab your stuff,” I told her. “We’re going to—”

  “I’m going home,” she said.

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Back to Lakovia.”

  I could feel my face falling. “Lakovia is the most dangerous place in the world for you right now! The assassins are there, waiting for you!” I stepped closer. “I know you want to be with your dad, but there’s nothing you can do right now. You’ll be safe in the US and—”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, standing. “My father’s incapacitated. I’m next in line. Garrett... I’m now Queen!”

  My jaw dropped. I’d been so busy thinking about her as a person and how upset and scared she must be, I’d never thought about that part. “But they’ll kill you!”

  “My people need me. Our country can’t be without a ruler, not if Garmania’s about to invade.”

  She looked up at me and God, the fear on her face. This whole thing was taking her back to what happened to her during the war, to being left alone in that black, bare stone cell. And yet that imperious jaw was set firmly. She was doing this for her people, even though she was terrified. Even though she was years from being ready to rule. Even though it would probably mean her death. That fluttering in my chest, that swell of loyalty: I’ve never in my life respected someone so much. It only took me a split second to make my decision.

  “If you’re going,” I told her, “I’m coming with you.”

  She looked at me, incredulous. “Garrett, you can’t!”

  “I’m not letting you go back there unprotected.”

  “I’ll have my royal guards.”

  “They couldn’t protect the King.”

  Emerik, Jakov and Caroline had drifted in, drawn by our raised voices. Kristina looked embarrassed and lowered her voice. “Garrett... Lakovia is a different world. You know how traditional we are. There are barely any foreigners. You wouldn’t fit in.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  “You wouldn’t be allowed. The only people allowed to protect the Queen are the royal guards and—”

  “Then make me one.”

  She froze and stared at me.

  “Make me a royal guard,” I repeated.

  She held my gaze for another second and then lowered her eyes to the floor. “Give us the room, please,” she said, then waited while they left. When they’d gone, she took my hand. “Garrett... I’m the Queen, now.” Her voice was shaking. “Even if there was a way we could be together before, we can’t be now. The people, the media... they’re deeply distrustful of outsiders. If you come with me, we can’t be together.”

  I knew she was right. Knew this would be even harder than before because I’d have had her and lost her. Hell, I’d be right next to her, all the time, but unable to hold her, touch her, kiss her. It would be torture.

  But not being able to protect her... that would be even worse. I looked her right in the eye. “I understand,” I said, “Your Majesty.”

  Her eyes were filling with tears. Her throat moved, but she couldn’t speak, not without losing it completely. She just nodded.

  “Tell me what I have to do,” I said.

  She bit her lip. “Kneel,” she managed.

  I went down on one knee before her, like I’d seen them do in the movies.

  “Repeat after me,” she croaked, barely holding back the tears. “I swear allegiance to my Queen.”

  I looked her right in the eye. “I swear allegiance to my Q
ueen.”

  “I promise to pro—to protect her from all dangers, foreign and domestic.”

  My deep Texas growl filled the room. “I promise to protect her from all dangers, foreign and domestic.”

  “I will guard her to the end and sacrifice whatever my duty demands, even if—”—she gulped, sobbed, recovered—”even if it demands my own life.”

  “I will guard her to the end,” I repeated. “And sacrifice whatever my duty demands, even if it demands my own life.” That feeling I’d had, ever since I first met her, was filling my chest. I’d never thought I’d find something worth giving myself to, after the marines. But her? My Queen? Hell yeah, I’d die for her.

  She nodded: it was done. I was a royal guard. I could see her trying to form thank you with her lips, but she’d started crying too hard to get it out. Instead, she reached down, placed her hand on my head and knitted her fingers into my hair. I nodded and gently rested my own hand on top of hers.

  It was time to go to Lakovia.

  38

  Garrett

  The cargo flight from New York to Lakovia was long and uncomfortable: we spent it strapped into the fold-down crew seats, passing around a thermos of coffee. But it got us there safely and with the time difference, we arrived early in the morning.

  As we came in to land, I saw snow-capped mountains sweeping down to rich, green valleys and acre after acre of thick forest. It was beautiful...but it was as different from Texas as she was from me.

  When we stepped off the plane, I shivered. It was cold, despite it being summer. A fresh, crisp kind of cold I’d never felt before: the air tasted so clean. Off in the distance, I could see the white turrets of what must be the palace. They poked up through a mist that seemed to shroud the whole country. It gave Lakovia a storybook feel. I half expected to see a dragon.

  “It’s the altitude,” said Emerik, next to me. “Lakovia is so high in the mountains, we’re almost in the clouds.” He was having the opposite reaction: he was almost bathing in the frosty air, glad to be home.