“Look. As far as I am concerned, just because someone is born into a family that has titles and acres, it does not give them the right to automatically do as they please. Does that answer your question?”
He clucked his tongue to get Kronos’s attention and pulled gently on the lead rein before stomping past her. Whether it answered her question or not, he was done talking about this. Why did he even explain himself to her? He never explained himself to anyone, period. Okay so this may have gotten him in trouble over the years, but it was his strategy, and since he trusted few, it worked for him.
The crickets were louder than usual. That, or he’d never stopped to listen to them since the death of his mother. Maybe not even then. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d never had anyone to share the sound with—unlike now. Images of the women he’d been with flashed briefly through his mind. They each knew what was on the table, sex, and what was off it, commitment.
She hadn’t said anything. Hell, if it weren’t for her soft breaths behind him, he’d think she’d disappeared. “Not much farther.” Why had he said that? She could probably tell from the lights in the distance they were near the house.
“Thank you. I am most obliged for your generosity.” Her tone was as crisp as the oncoming night air.
If he were near a door, he’d slam it. Hard. “A gentleman is a gentle man, Damon. In words and in deeds.” His mother’s words nipped at his heels. Why did he have to remember that saying now of all times? Had that been his father’s mask—being a gentleman in flowery words and deeds, saying he’d come back? But he never did and never planned to.
“Anything to help. You know there is a phrase that sums this up.” He lifted one hand into the air to draw a large circle, flicking a quick look over his shoulder despite already hearing the faint rustle of her boots against the dirt. “If you don’t want to do the time, then you shouldn’t do the crime.”
He could sense, rather than see, the sharpness of her gaze boring holes in his back. Good, she was riled. He preferred her riled instead of silent, and when riled, people more often than not spoke the truth. Now to see what hers was.
• • •
“Crime? I beg your pardon?” The words tripped quickly off her tongue like children let out of school early for the summer break, and Tia rubbed her head and the throbbing vein that her mother had always told her was an unfortunate feature that stood out when she was angry. Sadly for her parents and annoyingly for her, it had stumbled onto the female line only.
“Yes, you know. If you can’t stand the heat, then stay out of the kitchen.”
Her scalp tingled from the beads of sweat forming beneath her wig, and she reached up to itch under it, her natural golden hair soft to her fingertips. What would he say if she just whipped the wig off and revealed who she was? She bet 100 euros he would not be as smug as he was now.
Grrrr. She couldn’t let him get to her. She was the sensible twin, the one who always thought before she acted or even spoke. All the hijinks were left to Bastian.
“Did you swallow a phrase book, or do you always quote meaningless phrases in situations that require seriousness?”
Ha! That got his attention. Her feet ground to a halt in the dirt as he and his horse stopped short. Bright lights twinkled overhead, and she narrowed her eyes as shadows and images of nearby fenced paddocks and stalls came into view.
Stables. They were at a stable. This wasn’t a farm at all!
His shoulders slumped slightly before he straightened, and he turned slowly towards her, his eyes hidden in the shadows. Her heart flip-flopped heavily in her chest, and she swallowed the potpourri-style dryness in her throat.
“Is this a serious situation Tia?”
“Well . . . I, uh . . . ” Tia swallowed heavily. Where were her words? She had told her father that she did not need a press secretary to write her speeches, and now look at her—speechless. She nodded quickly. What she could not make up in words, she could make up for in mime.
“Is it serious to waste precious moments on a family who have no knowledge of my existence and, even if they did, would rather walk on past me than acknowledge me?”
“But—” Tia opened her mouth, letting the one word fall out, only to close it again as he sucked in a deep breath, carrying on as if she had never spoken.
“That is what I meant, Tia. If you don’t like the answer, then think of another question.”
Dust rose from the floor as he swirled a perfect 180 and marched away from her, the sounds of whinnies from the other stalls reaching her ears over the night air.
She curled her hands into fists and dug them into her sides. This was why she had wanted to go to Arios. This. To find out what people really thought of her family and avoid her family being made into an elective monarchy like that of her former fiancé and his country of Montcroix. Her parents did not believe her, but she had seen the literature extolling the virtues of a republic.
For crying out loud! She could even have fallen into the heart of the pro-republic camp without realizing. Her feet froze, and the hairs on her neck rose up at the idea.
“I will put Kronos away, and then I will call the tow company. Stay here.” His tone was final, and it was on the tip of her tongue to make a point and ask who was now giving the orders. Well, she would have said something if he hadn’t disappeared so fast.
Wrapping her arms around her, she breathed out deeply. What would Geo have done? She bit back a wry smile as she imagined what her younger-by-mere-minutes twin brother would have done. Probably what she had, only ten times worse. But it was not Bastion that she was sure her parents, indeed maybe even the very country, compared her to. It was Geo. It was fine when he had been alive, and she had been content to tinker in the schoolroom with her computers and websites, engaged in the activities her parents deemed were not suitable for a princess. She had been protected and safe. No one had told her in her security of youth that one day she would have to step up and become queen.
No one had—
Tia jumped back as something soft and downy nuzzled her arm, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to swallow back a scream. She blinked as an overhead light flickered on slowly, and her eyes widened at the sight of the cream-coloured horse next to her who slowly blinked back before nuzzling at her jumper once again.
Relief bubbled through her, and she chucked softly. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or just rob me, eh?” She asked the doe-eyed creature and reached out, rubbing her hand along the long neck of the horse.
“What do they call you then? Greedy?” She chuckled again as the horse nuzzled its nose farther into her hand, and she stepped back and peered at the name underneath. “Hermes Olympus and . . . ” Her feet kicked up the surrounding dust as she shuffled across to the next stall only to be greeted by a grey, cotton-soft nose. “Gaia Olympus. Olympus. You are all Olympians. Your daddy gave you some clever surnames.”
“Thanks.”
Her scalp prickled at the sound of his voice, and she forced herself to stare at the horse as the words “rebel” and “republic” danced through her brain like the ballet dancers she had seen in London’s Covent Garden. She should not be afraid. After all, this was what she wanted, to know the truth. Okay so it was one man’s opinion, but it only took one bullet right? Besides, once Damon learned about her plan to modernize and the way she would implement it, it would surely make the monarchy more popular. It was what Geo would have done if he had been king-in-waiting. In fact, it was better than what he would have done.
“You don’t seem surprised by their surnames,” he carried on, lifting his fingers into air quotes around “surname.”
“Should I be? I think it’s a clever ploy. When the horses are racing, it lets the crowd know instantly which breeder the horse is from so they can always bet on that breeder’s horses.”
“You seem to know a lot about racers.” He lifted his hand and stroked along the grey’s nose, leaning in and examining her ears.
“My br— m
y friend has an interest in racers, so I hear things.” That was close. She almost let the term “brother” slip out. She could feel his eyes on her. There was only one thing to do in this situation. Change the subject. “So who is your trainer?”
She stopped suddenly at the sound of footsteps, and her eyes widened as a woman no older than she was, with the curves she wished she’d been blessed with and large, Bambi-brown eyes, ran towards them.
“What is the problem, Alena?” His voice softened instantly, and Tia leaned forward, any thoughts about trainers disappearing. Who was this woman?
“Damon, I’m so glad you’re back! The vet is not answering his phone. Rafe has gone to fetch him but . . . ” Her hand waved in the air to some stalls in the distance, and Tia’s heart tightened at her next words. “Persephone is having difficulty, and the foal is in trouble!”
Chapter 3
A foal was in trouble, and from the shaking in Alena’s voice, the situation sounded critical. Where the heck was the vet?
Tia’s feet were frozen to the floor as Damon followed the woman at a run. The gentle whinnies of the surrounding horses faded away as a new one took its place and the memory of a horse’s pained cry took its place. Calypso had cried out when the stable hands had grabbed at her bruised flanks, trying to get her off Tia after the fall. The cries had cut through her own fog of agony. It was a sound she would never forget.
Then she couldn’t do anything. Now she could something. She was sure of it.
Questions, like bees, buzzed around her brain, gathering momentum and making her legs move. She ran in the direction she had seen Damon go in. Bustling sounds from a nearby stall told her she was going in the right direction.
A horse, the blue-black color of night, was whining pitifully on her side, and the woman Damon had called Alena was stroking and soothing her head while Damon rubbed her heavily pregnant belly.
“Damon! What can I do to help?”
He looked up. A glossy sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and his eyebrows were drawn together. “Unless you know anything about birthing a foal, the answer is nothing. We can only pray that the vet comes soon and Persephone can have her foal. Alena, have you tried calling him again?”
He turned sharply to Alena, his voice soft and his hands still stroking the heavily pregnant mare.
“Yes, Damon, but he is not picking up. Last week, he said he would come and check on Persephone this week, but now she has gone into early labour! Rafe thought . . . it doesn’t matter what he thought. Rafe has driven to his house to find him, and if not, then try to get another vet.”
“What did Rafe think?” The steel behind Damon’s question belied the softness of his voice.
“That something happened to the royals and that is why Mr. Kavilas is not here yet. They take priority. He is the top equestrian vet on the island, what did you expect to happen?” She sounded resigned, and Tia wiped her clammy hands down her trousers at the mention of her brother’s racehorses and the only vet he trusted to look after them.
They were right about one thing: Mr. Kavilas was the top horse specialist on the island. She knew that because he had looked after her brother’s horses for years, but she was sure nothing was wrong with them. They all seemed healthy when she saw them yesterday.
“Damn them all. Who the hell do they think they are just because they have titles and we do not. Is Persephone’s foal to die because one of the royal horses has strained a muscle?”
In the dim stable light, Tia could see his nostrils quiver and his lashes lower a fraction as his gaze held hers. She gulped heavily and swallowed back the words in defense of her family. Now was not the time. She could correct him later. What could any of them have done to him that he seemed to hate them so much anyway? How many others felt this way? Alena’s husband certainly seemed to.
“It could have been the recent landslides. They have taken out some of the phone lines across the island,” Tia ventured. The words scraped against her throat as if reluctant to leave.
Alena nodded. “She’s right, Damon. My sister’s phone line went down for a few days.”
“That does not help me, and it sure as hell does not help Persephone,” he bit out.
“I can help,” Tia began, stopping as twin looks of skepticism burned through her. She nodded slowly. “Really. I can. After knowing about the horses’ surnames, you have to credit me with having some knowledge of horses. This is one of the things I have knowledge about, random though it may seem. I have seen foals being born, even difficult labours. I can remember what the vet did.” She rolled her hands into the long sleeves of the jumper and crossed her fingers. She couldn’t tell them that her interest to study biological sciences had been a passing phase. And Georgios had made her assist him and Mr. Kavilas with the royal horses, despite it going against their parents’ wishes. Even now the memories made her squirm. But she remembered, and that was the important bit.
She held her breath as Damon’s gaze flicked between her, Alena, and the horse before moving back to her. “In that case, we are all in your hands. Though I have seen my grandfather birth calves before, I have never seen a mare foaling and never one in trouble.”
In her hands alone. Great! Tia inhaled slowly, “Is this her first?” She exhaled softly at Alena’s nod. Mr. Kavilas had asked the same question to Geo, and he had nodded too.
“And how long has she been in labour?” That was the other question Mr. Kavilas had asked. Or was it the one about . . . ? Tia pulled her lower lip into her mouth, pressing her teeth into it, stopping as she caught Damon’s gaze and his frown at the action.
A queen never questions her own actions. It was a phrase her father was fond of. For once, he might be onto something.
“About forty minutes. She started about twenty minutes after Damon went for a ride, and that was an hour ago. She kept getting up and moving around, but now she is just lying there. Rafe went for Mr. Kavilas as soon as she started getting restless.” The catch in Alena’s voice made her own heart tighten at the mother and foal’s predicament. Tia pushed up the sleeves of her jumper and stepped forward.
“In that case, we need those”—she scanned the stable again, pointing at a box of bandages—“to bandage her tail. And iodine for when the foal comes and long rubber gloves just in case the vet does not get here in time and we have to deliver the foal ourselves.”
Her eyes sought Damon’s, and he nodded slowly, “Alena, go and get the gloves, and I think there is iodine in the stable office. Then call Rafe and see where he is. Thee mou, Tia and I will stay here and do everything we can. I cannot, I will not, lose this foal.”
The strength in his voice fed hers, and Tia stepped back as Alena tiptoed past her, leaving them alone once again.
“You should wear the gloves. Damon and I will bandage her tail. It makes it easier for when the foal emerges but first we need to put on a bridle. Some horses do not take well to having their tails wrapped if they are not used to it.” Her scalp prickled as she moved past him, though she wasn’t sure if that was from the itchiness of the wig or the closeness of him. She reached for the bandages just as his hand closed around the other side of the packs. His fingers brushed hers, and her skin danced at the brief touch before he let go and stepped back, turning hurriedly towards the horse.
She dug her nails into the plastic wrapping and pulled it open, glancing back at the sound of metal clunking against metal.
“Issuing more orders, princess? Fine, I will bridle her while you wrap her tail. Watch out, she likes to kick.” His hands worked quickly as he whispered words she couldn’t decipher at the horse, and she smoothed the mare’s coarse tail, wrapping it between the layers of material.
“There, we are finished. And by the way, my name is Tia. Not your highness, not princess, just Tia. Would you like it if I called you . . . oh I don’t know, Baldy?” Baldy? That was the best she could come up with? Shameful. Bastian said she was never good at comebacks.
His lips twitched unexpectedly, and
her own pulled up in reply. “I may have shaved my head, Tia, but I am far from bald. Nice try, though.”
“Damon! Damon! I have the gloves, but there isn’t much iodine. Good news, Rafe has got Mr. Kavilas and is bringing him here now. They are only a few minutes away. It was the phone lines all along!”
Tia turned at the sound of Alena’s bright and relieved tone and glanced sharply at the door. Hell! If anyone could reveal who she really was, it was Mr. Kavilas. And not only that but he would be calling her family straight away to inform them where she really was.
She flattened her hands over her stomach to silence the bees buzzing around in it. Keep it together, Tia, just a little bit longer! “Well, since the vet is on his way, I will go and wait . . . ” She dragged her tongue over her lips and glanced towards her only exit, sidestepping towards it and the pitch blackness outside. “Um, out there. Too many people in here will only distress Persephone.”
That, and if she were lucky, she could avoid Mr. Kavilas altogether.
• • •
What? Where was she going? Damon pushed himself onto his feet and waved Alena across to Persephone.
Okay, he may have been a little wrong about the royals and Tia may still be flagging red on his radar, but she was his best bet—at least until the vet got there.
“Where are you going? You have to help.” He dragged his hand over his head, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat as his gaze sought hers in the dim light of the stables. He didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but he was. For the sake of his first foal and his favourite mare, he would get down on his knees and beg if he had to. Even if she had been sent by Phillipe.
“I have. Alena needs to hold Persephone, and you need to put on the gloves and pull the foal out. It may be that it has twisted around and comes out back legs first.” Her fingers wrapped around the loose thread on the bottom of his jumper, and she cleared her throat. “Look, there really is nothing else I can do. I am not a vet. I just have some knowledge of this stuff and—” She stopped as bright headlights lit up the fields, highlighting them both, and a small squeak slipped from her lips. “Trust me, I am better out of the way than in it. Excuse me.”
The Runaway Queen Page 3