Royal Wedding Threat

by Rachelle Mccalla

  Jason squeezed her hand, letting go of her fingers to rub her back, and she leaned against him. “We’ll get through this all right. Everything is going to work out.”

  “How can you say that? You can’t make that promise when you don’t know what will happen.”

  “I believe God is watching over us.”

  Ava wanted so much to believe his words were true. She’d have given anything to go back to the days when she’d truly trusted that God would keep her safe from all harm. But she’d learned otherwise the hard way. “Where was God when my mother died?”

  She waited, hoping Jason would know the answer. But instead of offering her reassuring words, he remained silent. Compassion simmered in his eyes, but he had no words of hope to offer her.

  Of course not. There weren’t any.

  She shook her head, feeling foolish for daring to hope. “I need to be going. I have another appointment shortly, and I really ought to touch up my face.”

  * * *

  Friday evening, the wedding party assembled in the palace courtyard to travel to the cathedral for the rehearsal. Jason almost didn’t recognize Ava from the back, but then she turned to face him with uncertainty on her face, and he realized instantly what she’d done. “You dyed your hair brown.”

  “It’s my natural color. We didn’t have time to add highlights. Do I look awful?”

  Jason assessed her appearance. Instead of styling her hair stiffly upright, she’d left it loose, styled in curls that framed her face. “You look gorgeous, Ava. You look more like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “In the picture on your desk.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell slightly. “That was my engagement picture. I cut Dan out of the picture and kept the rest. Is that silly of me?”

  “I’m glad you did. It helped me to realize there might be another side to you—a side I wish I’d known about long ago.”

  Ava gave him a thankful smile. “I really must give everyone their final instructions.”

  “Go.” Jason squeezed her hand, then stood back as Ava directed the cars out of the courtyard in order without missing a beat. She was so good at what she did. He realized how truly blessed the kingdom of Lydia was to have her. How blessed he was to know her. He’d never learned the answer to the question his mother had prompted. How long would Ava be staying in Lydia?

  He didn’t suppose she’d be ready to answer that question until the killer who was after her was caught, but Jason knew he didn’t want her to leave. It would take some work to clarify the Royal Guard Code of Honor to accommodate the honorable love his guards felt for the women they were involved with, but Jason now understood, thanks to Ava, just how important it was to make those clarifications. He didn’t want anyone to misunderstand his love for the wedding planner.

  Ava trotted back to his side. “We’re in the last car.” She slipped into the backseat, and he climbed in after her.

  While Ava sat beside him silently and their armored car lined up at the rear of the queue, Jason debated bringing up her question of faith again. He didn’t want to push her too far for fear he might push her away, but at the same time, it pained him to know she didn’t feel that God was with her. He didn’t like to see her hurting when he knew God had the power to comfort her—if only she’d open her heart to that possibility.

  But before he could speak, his earpiece buzzed to life.

  “This is Detective Varda from the Sardis Police Bomb Squad.”

  “Yes, Detective Varda, go ahead.” Jason recognized the man’s name from working with him before—his dog had picked up the scent from the explosive residue on the street after the bomb went off in Ava’s car. Jason had asked the SPBS to return to patrol the perimeter with their dogs during the rehearsal. They’d been happy to oblige.

  “My dog picked up a scent near the front corner of the building and followed it behind the cathedral. There was a man in the parking lot. My dog ran at him, the same way he would anyone carrying the scent he was following. But before my dog caught up to him, the man jumped into one of those TV vans parked back there. They drove away.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Sorry, no. He had too much of a head start. But the van had to navigate around another van, and I got a pretty good look at the driver.”

  “Can you identify him?”

  “Her. She looks like the picture you’ve been circulating—Tiffany Sterling? I’m not one hundred percent certain it was her, but from what I saw, she looked the same.”

  The limo had reached the front stairs of the cathedral. It was time for Jason to escort Ava inside, but he held her hand, preventing her from exiting until he was sure Tiffany wasn’t still around. “Which way did they van go?”

  “Toward the arterial highway. They turned north and headed out of town. That was the last I saw of them.”

  “Good. Thank you. Can you inform the others of what you’ve seen and file a description of the van with my office?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Thanks. We’re here now. I’ll be inside the cathedral.” Jason nodded to Ava to exit, but she hesitated.

  “Which way did who go?”

  “Someone who looked like Tiffany and an unidentified man. They were lingering in the back parking lot, but they headed out of town. Don’t worry. Now that they’ve seen them, neither my men nor the police will let them near here again.”

  Ava offered him a wan smile, which he figured was the best he could hope for, under the circumstances. Tiffany—or whoever had been driving the van—was still one step ahead of them. Until the royal guard got the upper hand, Jason didn’t figure there was any reason for Ava to smile.

  * * *

  The rehearsal went as smoothly as any Ava had ever performed. Had it not been for the constant threat of death hovering over her, Ava would have been delighted. Instead she could barely muster a smile as she congratulated the royal couple and dismissed everyone to head back to the palace for the rehearsal dinner.

  “You’ll be joining us, won’t you?” Lillian asked.

  “I’ll be a little late, I’m afraid,” Ava apologized. “I’m going to do a final check of everything here, and then I’ll follow after everyone’s safely arrived.”

  Although she’d purposely tried to play down the safety aspect of her plans, Ava watched as the meaning of the word registered with the soon-to-be princess. The simple fact was, Ava wasn’t comfortable traveling the streets of Sardis too closely to the other royal cars. From the moment Jason had informed her of the likelihood that Tiffany had been staking out the cathedral in advance of the rehearsal, Ava had felt almost jittery, certain at any moment she’d see Tiffany lurking around the next corner.

  She wished she could tell herself her fears were silly, but given the circumstances, the threat was all too real.

  Lillian thanked her and headed out with the others. Normally Ava would have seen them off, but she didn’t want to present a target, not with so many innocent people around. Instead she turned to Dom Procopio, the deacon who would be officiating over the ceremony the next day.

  “Thank you so much for helping everything go so smoothly this evening.” She shook his hand as she spoke. “I found your scripture reading very meaningful.”

  The old deacon smiled. “Alexander and Lillian selected the passage from Ecclesiastes, chapter four, but it’s always been one of my favorites, especially verse twelve.”

  “‘A cord of three strands is not easily broken,’” Ava quoted, then admitted, “That verse has always confused me. All the previous verses speak of two people, but suddenly, at the very end, the two change to three.”

  “Ah.” Dom nodded. “You’ve hit upon the key to the whole passage. I don’t want to give away my message for tomorrow, but since you’ve already picked it out, I’ll tell you. Th
e two, of course, are the loving couple who stand by each other, support and protect each other through everything. One alone is weak. Two together are strong. But only with the third are they unbreakable.” He beamed as he spoke.

  Ava nodded, though she still didn’t understand. “But who is the third strand of the cord?”

  “The third strand of the cord—the One who makes them unbreakable—is God.”

  Ava heard a noise behind her and turned in time to see a shadow in the form of a man, moving toward her from the darkened rear of the sanctuary. She startled and just managed to stifle her scream to a yelp, recognizing Jason as he moved into the circle of light under the last illuminated fixture at the front of the sanctuary.

  “I’m sorry,” the captain apologized quickly. “I thought you knew I was here.”

  “I did,” Ava confessed. “I’m just so jumpy tonight.”

  Deacon Procopio had already moved toward the rear hallway that led to his offices. “You two have a good evening,” he told them as he left.

  “You, too! Thank you again,” Ava called after him. Then she turned her attention to Jason, squeezing the hand he offered her, grateful not to be alone in the vast, echoing building—and especially glad Jason was the guard at her side. “All clear?”

  “So far. They’ll tell me if that changes. The limousines are heading out. Are you ready to go?”

  “I’d like to wait to leave until everyone has safely arrived at the palace. I called ahead and made arrangements for the palace staff to begin serving the rehearsal dinner without me.” She took a deep breath as she explained, “It’s just not worth the risk for me to be seen in the open in proximity to everyone else—not when the palace staff is perfectly capable of getting through the salad course without me.”

  Jason smiled. “That makes good, prudent sense.”

  “I’m glad you agree, because I think we should do the same thing tomorrow following the ceremony.”

  “But isn’t the wedding reception vastly more complicated?”

  “It is,” Ava admitted, “but everyone knows their jobs. They can start without me, and if there’s any questions, I’m only a phone call away.”

  “We’ll plan on that, then,” Jason agreed, meeting her eyes with an expression that seemed to indicate he had more he wanted to say.

  “What is it?” she asked when he remained silent.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the deacon.”

  “Oh? About Ecclesiastes?”

  “Yes. And it reminded me of the question you asked last evening—where was God when your mother was dying?” Any trace of a smile had fled from Jason’s face. Instead his eyes held compassion and sympathy. “I’ve been pondering that question ever since.”

  “And?” Ava asked in a whisper. She’d secretly hoped he would come up with an answer, even though she felt it was impossible.

  “Have you looked at the great stained-glass windows of this cathedral?”

  “Yes. They’re magnificent.” Ava had long admired the stained glass, but she didn’t see what that had to do with her question. Perhaps Jason hadn’t been able to answer it after all.

  But he led her down the aisle to the darkened rear of the sanctuary, where light from the sinking sun outside poured vibrantly through the windows. Jason explained, “The images on the stained glass date back to the centuries when a large percentage of the population didn’t know how to read. The windows told the gospel story with pictures instead of words.” He stopped in front of a particularly moving image of Mary weeping over the slain Christ.

  Ava couldn’t help feeling the emotions depicted in the picture. The loss so closely mirrored what she’d felt upon losing her mother so horrifically.

  “Growing up,” Jason began in a strained voice, “I thought this was just a picture of Mary and Jesus. Only a few years ago did someone point out to me it’s a family picture.” He gestured to the dark clouds that loomed behind Mary, their stained-glass forms outlined by crisp lead lines, detailed shading sending an impression of soft rain falling from the clouds.

  “Do you see?” Jason asked in a whisper.

  “Is it God?”

  Jason nodded. “He’s weeping for His Son.” Jason’s voice grew heavy as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I think that’s where he was when your mother died. He was watching over you, weeping with you.”

  Tears threatened to fall from Ava’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “Why did God let it happen?”

  “He can’t change free will. Whoever killed your mother chose evil. That was their choice. God didn’t force them to do the right thing. He let them choose, even though it broke His heart.”

  The tears Ava had been holding back fell freely then. “I hate it,” she sobbed. “I hate it that she’s dead.”

  “So do I. If I can presume to speak for God, I think God hates it, too. I know He hates evil, and that’s what her death was.” Jason pulled Ava tight against him as he spoke.

  Ava wrestled with the words that welled up inside her. “I’ve been mad at God for a long time,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t bring her back. Nothing can.”

  Jason whispered, “I think God wants to comfort you, if you’ll let Him.”

  “But I’ve turned my back on Him for so long.” She blushed, admitting the truth. “I yelled at God. I was angry.”

  “Wouldn’t God rather have you yelling at Him than not talking to Him at all?” Jason offered her a hopeful smile. “You’ve yelled at me an awful lot in the past. That doesn’t change my feelings for you.”

  Ava looked up at him for a long moment as Jason’s words sank in. He hadn’t specified precisely what his feelings for her were, but based on his tenderness toward her and his protective care, he cared for her far more than she deserved. She’d yelled at him—done her very best to push him away and been dreadfully mean—but he still cared for her.

  Was it possible God still loved her, too, even after she’d turned her back on Him for so long? Ava gripped the end of the nearest pew and bowed her head while Jason rubbed her back. “Pray with me.” She knit her fingers through his. “Pray for me.”

  Together they prayed until the heavy pit in Ava’s heart dissolved into lightness. She looked down at her fingers linked through Jason’s. Through her tear-blurred eyes, it was difficult to see where his fingers ended and hers began. They were like strands of a cord, knit together, not easily broken.

  “I think,” she admitted finally, when all her tears had been spent, “I’m finally strong enough to face whatever is going to happen tomorrow.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, not me alone,” she admitted, holding up their joined hands. “Three strands together—you, me and God.”

  SIXTEEN

  For all of Ava’s newfound confidence, Jason feared the worst the next day. None of the local hotels had admitted to having Douglas Wright or Tiffany Sterling among their guests. And yet Jason was nearly certain both of them were in the city somewhere.

  And one of them, or both together, were almost certainly still plotting to kill Ava. And just like the day before when the bomb-squad dog had chased one of them, they could show up at any moment, without warning.

  He couldn’t hope they’d run away so quickly a second time.

  Jason had done everything he knew to do. He’d taken every precaution short of postponing the wedding itself.

  That would have been next to impossible and completely inadvisable. A crowd of invited guests poured from vehicles well ahead of the ceremony start time. His guards looked better than respectable in their formal uniforms and polished shoes as they checked the invitations of every guest who arrived. Guests had been forewarned to bring photo identification with them. Fortunately most of those attending Alexander’s wedding were used to the proced
ure, which had also been required at Isabelle’s ceremony.

  They’d roped off the back parking lot for the royal limousines, sending the television vans off to a lot several blocks away. The SPBS patrolled with their dogs far beyond the range of the guests. Jason could only pray their visible presence would be enough to keep the killer away.

  An hour passed, and most of another, before Jason’s earpiece buzzed. “The wedding party is lining up to depart from the palace.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Jason assured them. It was a short drive and usually an uneventful one. Jason had parked a royal-guard motorcycle around the block from the cathedral. He reached it quickly and made his way to the palace, glancing down each side street he passed, alert for any out-of-place television vans or any sign of trouble.

  A shiver passed through him in spite of the bright sunshine. He felt almost as though he was being watched. Surely those who were after Ava were nearby, waiting for the right opportunity to make their move. From the standpoint of the would-be killers, the royal wedding was the perfect opportunity to strike. Not only did the event force Ava out of hiding, but unlike the day before when there had only been the wedding party to keep track of, today the throngs of guests had the royal guard stretched thin.

  Jason couldn’t imagine the killers letting this opportunity slip by without seizing it. He feared at any moment they’d make their move, but still he arrived at the palace without incident, just as Ava ushered the first members of the royal family into the waiting limousines. The wedding planner’s pale yellow gown with its fluttery sleeves was a shade lighter than Lillian’s cheery buttercup bridesmaid dresses and of a slightly more subdued style, though it flattered her fit figure perfectly. Jason found he had to force himself to look away from her and focus on watching over the royals.

  Elaine, the queen mother, helped her husband, the former king, as he stooped to climb into the vehicle. The once-strong leader had been frail ever since he’d taken a bullet defending his daughters in the wake of the insurgent uprising. He was no longer up to ruling the country, but his eldest son, King Thaddeus, performed that job with grace.