by B. B. Hamel
I look over at Bran and smile. He smiles back as the car zooms along a back road through the Bellestanian countryside. We just left one of the largest cities in the country and we’re headed out to a string of towns and villages, with tons of stops in between. We’re traveling in a five-car caravan, with us in the middle black SUV that’s basically a military-grade tank.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Bran in Bellestanian.
He smiles at me. “Well, and you?”
“Well,” I say, grinning, before switching back to English. “How was that?”
“Better,” he says. “You’re picking it up fast.”
“That stuff is easy,” I say. “I’m nowhere near being conversational.”
“You’ll get there, if you want to.”
“I do,” I say, looking back out at the beautiful country. I have to admit, I really like learning this language. I don’t know any other languages other than English, but learning Bellestanian has been an amazing process. Part of me though that I’d never be able to pick it up, but apparently I have the capacity, because I’m starting to understand people when they speak to me.
I can’t exactly speak back, or at least not very well. But I guess since I’m immersed in the language, I’m picking it up much faster than normal. It also helps that Bran is tutoring me on the side, and his idea of tutoring is much more fun. Let’s just say it involves clothing and ends with it all on the floor, which is exactly where I like it.
I don’t think anything could be better than this. I finally feel like I have a purpose in my life, like I belong somewhere, even if this isn’t my country or my culture. I still love doing this with Bran, mainly because I’m feeling something intense for him, something I never thought I’d feel.
Without thinking, I reach across the car and take his hand. He glances at me and smiles, squeezing my hand back. We’re coming up to a bend in the road where the cars have to slow down, and there’s a beautiful lake to our left. I notice a couple of men are down there fishing. I look back up at Bran, but his face is twisted and strange.
“Bran?” I ask.
“Fuck, Mila, those aren’t—“
There’s a loud roar and a pulse that pushes into my chest like a horse’s kick. I try to hold onto Bran’s hand as the whole world goes flipping, but I can’t manage it. He slips through my fingers as the car flips. I can hear myself screaming, almost from a distance, and the men up front are yelling as the car smashes onto its side. The last thing I remember is flailing for my seatbelt as the car bounces and flips again, tossing my head against the glass.
Light comes back slowly. I’m groggy and I have no clue where I am, and my ribs hurt like hell with every new breath, but I’m alive.
It takes me a second to realize that I’m in a bed. It takes me another few seconds to figure out that it’s a hospital bed. I’m hooked up to some machines, and it takes all of my willpower not to rip the tubes out of my arm. I’m sure they’re there for a good reason. I blink up at the harsh fluorescent lights before turning my head to the left.
Sitting in a chair next to my bed is Bran. He’s wearing a hospital gown, just like me, and his arm is in a sling. His head is turned to the side and I can tell that he’s sleeping.
I smile at him then turn to look the other way. It’s dark outside, and I have no clue what time it is.
I stare out the window, trying to remember what happened. The only thing I can recall is Bran yelling something, and then the car was flipping through the air. Everything is chaos, but my memory stops there. I must have been knocked unconscious, because this is the next thing that I remember.
I turn my head toward Bran, so happy that he’s alive and next to me. As soon as I look at him, he smiles.
“You’re awake,” he says.
“So are you.”
He grins then grimaces. “You’ve been out for a few hours now.”
“What happened?” I ask him.
He hesitates. “There was an explosion,” he says.
“Is anybody hurt?”
“Yes, but nobody’s dead,” he says.
“We were in the car,” I say slowly. “And you said something.”
He nods a little. “We were coming around a bend with a little lake to our right. Two men were down the embankment fishing, or at least they looked like they were fishing from far away.”
“You were talking about their fishing poles,” I say, starting to remember.
“They weren’t fishing poles. They were rocket launchers.”
I blink and stare at him. “Rocket launchers?”
“Rocket-propelled grenades, I think is the actual term.”
“Where the hell would someone get that from?”
“We don’t know,” he admits. “We’re looking into it.”
“How are we not dead?” If they had some serious explosive power, we should be blown to smithereens. They were right there at point blank range.
He smiles at that. “Apparently, my guards are faster than I am. One of the men in the front car rolled down his window and opened fire just as the two men lined up their shots.”
“Are they dead?” I ask him.
“The men are, yes. The first grenade was launched into the air and landed on the other side of the road in a field. But the second one hit the side of the embankment right next to our car.”
I remember the sound of the blast suddenly. It’s the sound of screaming metal and a deep concussive bass that smashes down into my chest.
“It flipped the car,” I say.
“Right. I tried to grab you, but I was thrown away. You hit your head pretty hard as we came to a stop.”
“But I’m alive,” I say.
“You’re alive. With a bad concussion, but you’re alive.” He stands and leans down over me, putting his free hand on the side of my face gently. I reach up and take his head and look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mila,” he says softly.
“Sorry? For what?”
“For doing this to you.” He sighs, shaking his head. I can see how much this hurts him. “You’re here because of me. I brought you into the middle of a dangerous civil war.”
“You didn’t know it was dangerous.”
“That’s not a good excuse.” His face is twisted with pain and frustration. “I failed you, Mila. I said I wouldn’t let you get hurt, but here you are, in a hospital bed.”
“Bran,” I say softly.
“No, you have to understand this. I am so sorry. I will never, ever let this happen to you again. I should have sent you home when I first thought of it.”
“Bran,” I say more sharply. That gets his attention. “Listen to me,” I say, softening my tone. “I’m here because I want to be. I know what the stakes are and what the risks are. I… I’m starting to love Bellestan. I’m starting to understand why this is a beautiful place.”
“This place just tried to kill you,” he says, grunting as he shifts himself to sit down on the side of my bed.
“No. Bad people in this place tried to kill me. But we’ve met so many other people, Bran, good people. I finally feel like I’m doing something good. I finally feel like I belong somewhere.”
He frowns, staring into my eyes. “How can you say that, lying in a hospital bed?”
“It’s easy,” I say, smiling back at him. “It’s just the truth. I’m not afraid, Bran. I want to be by your side. I want to save this beautiful place. I don’t want the people that did this to us win.”
He stares at me quietly for a second, and I feel a resolute power rise up through me. I’m lying in this hospital bed, feeling worse than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and yet I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything else. I want to be here. Maybe not in this bed in this moment, but here, in this country, with Bran.
I want to do more than just get some special job. I can see that now. I can do so much more if I help Bran. The people of Bellestan are just afraid of what comes next. They don’t understand that their problems stem from things more c
omplicated than they can ever imagine, and so they’re trying to blame the monarchy, or foreigners, or any of the other boogeymen that people like Perko take advantage of. But I can show them that there’s still beauty in this world, and we can all embrace that beauty together.
Bran goes to say something, but he’s interrupted by a nurse entering the room. “How do you feel?” she asks me.
“Groggy and tired,” I admit to her. “But I think I’m fine. My ribs hurt.”
She smiles at me. “That’s because they’re broken, Princess.” The nurse checks my IV drip and goes over my vitals. “The doctor will be in to see you shortly.”
“Thank you,” I say.
The nurse turns to Bran. “And as for you, it’s time for your X-ray.”
He groans. “Do I have to?”
“Yes, my Prince,” she says. “Please, get up now and come with me.”
Bran looks down at me and smiles. “I’ll see you soon then,” he says. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
“Okay, my Prince,” I say.
He grins and leans down, kissing me softly on the lips. He gets up and follows the nurse to the door, but hesitates before leaving.
“By the way,” he says. “You realize that we were just speaking in Bellestanian, right?”
I blink at him, surprised. I suddenly realize that ever since the nurse came in, I just switched languages and didn’t even notice it.
“I guess so,” I say, still speaking Bellestanian.
“Your accent is still awful.” He winks before leaving.
I laugh softly to myself, which makes my ribs hurt again, but I don’t care. I just survived an assassination attempt and I should be afraid for my life, but I’m not. I should want to run away and get somewhere safe, but I don’t.
I just want to be with Bran.
I don’t have time to think too much about that, though, because there’s a knock at my door. I assume it’s the doctor, so I tell him to enter.
Instead, it’s Aleks. “Hello, Princess,” he says. Usually he’s smiling, but today he doesn’t look happy.
“Aleks,” I say. “How are you?”
“Fine. The lead car was unharmed.”
“And the men driving our car?”
“Broken bones, bruises, that sort of thing. Actually, I think you got it the worst.” He comes forward and kneels down next to my bed. “My Princess, I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, waving him away. “Really. Your men saved our lives, after all.”
“You shouldn’t have been in that position to begin with.”
“I’d like to thank the guard that starting shooting, if I can.”
Aleks nods. “Of course. He’ll be commended and promoted, and I’ll make sure that you’re at the ceremony, if you wish to be.”
“Thank you.” I smile at Aleks and wish he could understand the sort of revelation I’m having right now.
“Princess,” he says slowly. “I wish I could say that I were here just to check on your health, but I’m afraid I’m here for something more… pressing.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Anything. What is it?”
He glances back at the door. “Can this remain in the room, just between us?”
“Probably not,” I admit, laughing, and regret that laughter immediately. “I’ll try, though.”
“I want this violence against the crown to stop,” Aleks begins, launching into what’s clearly a difficult thing for him. “I want Perko brought to justice, but so far, we don’t have any proof that he’s involved. I believe that if we can find a way to catch him, or at least to disgrace him, we’ll be able to slow down or halt these attacks entirely.”
I nod my head slowly, smiling at Aleks. “And what can I do for you?”
Before Aleks can speak, the door opens again. I’m surprised to see Queen Ana step into the room. She shuts the door behind her as Aleks stands and snaps a salute to her. She waves her hand at him and smiles at me.
The Queen is wearing a dark suit, like something an FBI agent would wear. She steps over to the side of the bed. “I’m sorry to intrude, dear,” she says. “How do you feel?”
“I’m feeling okay,” I say, though I’m lying a bit. Aleks remains standing at attention.
“Did Aleks here brief you yet?”
I blink at her, a little surprised. “He mentioned Perko,” I say.
Queen Ana smiles at me. “This little job isn’t coming from Aleks. He was just my messenger, but I decided to ask you myself.” Ana sits gently on the side of my bed and looks at Aleks. “Sit down.”
Aleks sits as Queen Ana looks back at me. “I believe Perko will let you get close to him,” she says. “I’ve been studying his habits and his moves for a long time now, and I believe you’re just the sort of person that he thinks he can use.”
I watch her, not really sure where this is going. “You think I can help?” I ask her.
“I think we can use you as bait,” she says. Aleks winces and she laughs at him. “Why dress it up for her, Aleks?” she asks. “The girl should know.”
“I would have put it more delicately,” he says.
“No matter.” Queen Ana looks back at me. “You can help the crown, dear. Truly help the crown, more than you already have. We owe you a lot, for many different reasons. I know this wasn’t something you always wanted.”
I’m a little surprised by that last bit. She’s looking at me with a sly smile, and for a second I think she might know our secret, but the moment passes.
“He’ll open up to you, my Princess,” Aleks says. “We’ll keep you safe and stay nearby, but you’ll have to speak with him.”
“Suggest that you’re unhappy,” Queen Ana says. “Make him believe you want a better deal.”
“A better deal,” I say softly.
“Do this for us, and we’ll be forever in your debt.” Queen Ana smiles and stands. She looks at Aleks. “Let’s give her some time.”
Aleks nods, looks at me for a second, and walks out of the room. Queen Ana lingers by my bedside.
“He really cares about you, you know,” she says to me softly.
I raise an eyebrow. “I know.”
She hesitates and smiles. “Of course you do.” She puts my shoulder gently. “Feel better, dear, and think about what we said. If you do this, it may save lives.” She turns and leaves without another word.
I stare after her, trying to understand what the hell just happened. I’ve never seen Queen Ana dressed like that before, although I don’t have a lot of experience with her. And that mission she wants me to go on… could it really help? It seems like it might be dangerous.
But they wouldn’t ask this of me if it weren’t important. I’ve already made up my mind, I realize, and I know that I can’t turn back. That bomb sealed everything for me, and I’m finished doing this half-assed.
What’s really lingering, though, is what she said about Bran. She says he really does care about me, and that makes me feel better than anything else. If she sees it then it must be true.
I was feeling it between Bran and me. I could sense it growing. But I think Queen Ana just confirmed it for me.
I’ll take on this mission. But first I have to convince Bran.
24
Bran
I’m sick of all the goddamn tests. I’m totally fine, but because I’m the Prince, they’re going to triple check every last possibility before letting me go.
I hate being in this fucking hospital room. At least Mila is up and moving around, despite her condition. They’re treating me like a fucking child. We’ve been here for a day now, pushing two days. Mila is downstairs finishing up an MRI while I eat dinner from a little tray in my bed like I’m an invalid.
All told, we got off easy. I have a fractured arm, which isn’t even that bad, plus some bruising. The driver has a broken arm and the guard in the front passenger seat has a fractured skull and a broken ankle. Mila is probably the worst of all us: fractured skull, broken ribs, and more
bruising than I care to see.
But she’s an amazing woman regardless. She’s up on her feet already, although it’s probably hard to walk around with all that pain from the broken ribs. I can tell she labors sometimes when she starts to breathe too fast, but she’s going to hide any discomfort as much as she can, just because that’s the way she is.
I can’t help but smile when I think about her. I hate myself for putting her into this position, but I’m so proud and impressed by the way she’s handled things. She hasn’t run away, and instead insists that she’s staying longer. I don’t think that’s going to happen, but I’ll let her think it for now at least.
I look up as the door clicks and slides open. Mila steps into the room and shuts the door behind her. She looks so gorgeous, even in her silly hospital gown. She grins at me as she walks over and sits in the chair next to my bed.
“How was it?” I ask her.
“Doctor says I’m fine,” she says.
“I don’t believe you.”
She shrugs. “No serious brain damage. I’ll be good to go in another day.”
“Perfect,” I say. “We can get you on a flight back home the day after.”
She watches me for a second and takes a deep breath. I catch her wince but she doesn’t look away from me. “Bran, we need to talk.”
“You’re not staying,” I say to her.
“Bran,” she says.
“Mila, please.” I reach out and take her hand. “You have to go. I can’t stand to see you get hurt again.”
“Bran.” She stares into my eyes. “I’m going on a mission for your mother.”
I blink, surprised. “You’re doing what?” I ask.
“She came to me yesterday while you were getting your arm X-rayed,” she says, keeping steady eye contact. I can feel myself getting angry already, but I have to admit that I’m impressed by how serious she is.
“And she wants you to go on a secret mission?” I ask a little jokingly.
“Yes,” she says. “Something like that.”
“Come on, Mila. What are you talking about?”