Stasi was in trouble. He needed to get back to her—if he could get his boat to Dorsi without passing out.
Stasi watched the approaching sailboat cautiously. She’d found a pair of binoculars among the many supplies her brother had left on the island, and she trained them on the boat.
“Please be Kirk,” she prayed. The boat looked enough like his, but she’d only been on it once, and that was in the dark and a good part of the time inside a duffel bag, so she certainly wasn’t an expert on what it looked like.
As the little sloop edged toward the island, Stasi spotted a figure slumped over the rudder. Was it Kirk? He looked like he could hardly hold himself up.
Her heart tore. She’d been so horribly worried about him, and had finally concluded that it had been unwise for him to return to Sardis. Too bad she’d realized it too late.
When the prow dipped toward the hidden inlet, Stasi jumped down from her perch on the castle wall and clambered across the smooth rocks to meet him. She wore a T-shirt she’d found among her brother’s things, and the cuffs of Thad’s shorts hung past her knees, the waist folded over and tied securely with an improvised twine belt.
She reached the little strip of beach and spotted Kirk on the deck with a rope in his hands. When he tossed it to her, he looked as though he might come tumbling out after it.
“Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer, but tossed down bags. The first few held food, then a bag she recognized as one of her own travel bags—one that was always kept stocked for impromptu trips. Lastly, he tossed down a first-aid kit.
A groan from Kirk caught her attention, and she looked up in time to see him ease himself to sitting on the edge of the boat. His handsome face looked pale under his tan, and his eyes were nearly closed.
“Do you need help?” She realized he had yet to speak.
Kirk nodded and slumped forward.
“What do—” Before she could finish her question, he keeled off the side of the boat.
Stasi tried to catch him or at least break his fall, but he’d always been much bigger than she was, and rather than do much to help, she ended up flat on the sand beside him. He dropped onto his side with his face in the sand and his legs in water up to his knees.
“Kirk?” Her level of concern skyrocketed. “What’s wrong?” She turned his head to the side so she could see his face, and wiped away the sand that stuck to his skin.
“Oh, Kirk!” She gasped when she saw the mass of swollen bruises and cuts that had deformed his handsome face. Suddenly realizing what the first-aid kit was for, she grabbed the supplies and set to work daubing at his cuts with cotton balls soaked with rubbing alcohol. She knew it had to sting terribly, but he didn’t flinch.
“Who did this to you?” She realized she was crying only when she saw a tear splash onto his arm.
“Men working for Viktor Bosch.”
“The head of the royal guard? Is he the one behind the attacks?” She winced as she realized his injuries covered more of his body. How had Kirk stayed upright long enough to make it to the island?
Resting on the ground seemed to help Kirk, because his voice grew slightly stronger. “No one has claimed responsibility. But someone has been ordering the soldiers around, and the royal guard, too.”
“Who?”
“I’m sorry.” Kirk drew in a ragged breath as Stasi pressed a fresh cotton ball against a cut on his knuckle. “I don’t know. I barely got out of there alive.” He winced again. “That reminds me. Call Thad. Tell him not to send anyone.”
“I already did.”
“What?” Kirk startled.
“When you were gone so long I started to think maybe it wasn’t wise for Thad to send anyone. So I called him back and told him to wait another week. He’d been watching the news, of course, but there haven’t been any new developments since the attack last night and already the media has moved on.”
“Maybe that’s their plan.”
He seemed to struggle to catch his breath, so Stasi filled in what she guessed he’d been about to say. “To wait until the world stops paying attention before they make their next move?”
“Uh-huh.” His affirmation came out like a groan.
“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you. I don’t want these to become infected.” Stasi tried not to think about how much pain he must be in—and how much pain he’d suffered at the hands of Bosch’s men.
Kirk’s eyes closed.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t open his eyes. “I’m thirsty.”
“Let me fetch you a drink.” Stasi ran to get water. She’d found the freshwater well that morning and been delighted to discover the water quality was excellent. Now she hurried back to Kirk with water in a bottle she’d found among Thad’s things.
Kirk had gotten into a sitting position while she was gone, and had pulled his shirt up past his chiseled abs to his chest. He sat on the sand gingerly prodding a spot near his sternum.
“I don’t think it’s broken in two,” he reported. “Just cracked.”
“Your rib?” Stasi couldn’t help gasping at the thought.
Kirk reached up for the water she offered him, but pain crossed his face as he raised his arm higher.
“Here, let me help you.” She fell down on her knees in the sand in front of him and raised the water to his lips. His hand trembled as he reached for the bottle.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” she assured him, tipping it for him to drink. She watched him carefully, not wanting to pour more than he was ready for. Then she wiped away the drops that clung to his chin.
His weary eyes met hers, and she paused, her heart full of the many things she wanted to tell him or ask him about, but none of them seemed so important now. First and foremost, she needed to take care of his injuries.
“How did you ever manage to sail your boat in this condition?” Stasi recalled all the sail adjusting that required free use of his arms. She couldn’t imagine how painful any one of those motions must have been with a cracked rib. It was obvious he’d been brutally beaten, and had clearly made it back to the island on sheer grit and determination.
“I think the adrenaline masked the pain.” He took another slow sip of water. “I had to get back to you.” He began to cough, and immediately winced, his shoulders bunching tight, no doubt against the increased pain his coughing fit provoked. “News.” He fought to speak. “Your family. Your sister.”
Stasi wasn’t sure which worried her more—the thought of what had become of her family, or the pain that seemed to overcome Kirk as he tried to deliver his message.
He shook his head, almost in apology, before spitting on the sand.
Bright red blood colored the spot.
“Are you bleeding internally?” Stasi asked, her concern rising.
“It may be from the cut on my lip.” Kirk took a slow breath, his eyes almost closed.
She could tell it was taking all his effort just to catch his breath without triggering another coughing fit.
“Your sister,” he said slowly, his eyes still closed. “She’s alive.”
Stasi’s squeal of happiness startled her own ears, and she had to catch herself before she threw her arms around Kirk. “Alive? Is she injured? Is she okay? Did you see her?” She bit back her questions as Kirk slowly opened his eyes.
“She was spotted at the embassy after the blast. She’s on the run. I don’t know much more than that.”
“That is the best news.” Stasi bit back her tears. “Should I try to bandage up your cuts?” She turned to the side and pulled a packet of bandages from the first-aid kit. When she faced him again, the expression on his face made her pause.
“Thank you.” His hazel eyes held
sincerity.
Stasi blushed. “It’s the least I can do. It seems none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been trying to help me. I shouldn’t have let you go back to Sardis.”
“I needed to go.”
The strong scent of rubbing alcohol met her nostrils as she drew in a deep breath. “I’m not dreaming, am I? I was just coming to grips with the likelihood that she’d died.” Giddy hope swirled in her chest. “Perhaps no one was killed, then.”
His expression remained grave. “Following the attack on the motorcade, three bodies were found. Two drivers and a guard.”
Stasi bit her lip and looked up at the sky. People had died, then. It was so awful. “There were no other bodies?”
“None.”
“They’re not just hiding them, covering up what they’ve done?” She daubed the cotton ball as gently as she could along his bloody jaw, blowing on the spot to soothe the sting.
“It wouldn’t make sense. There was even a rumor that the two of us had been tossed into the sea, but that was quickly squashed. No body, no death. It seems the members of the royal family have made an art of vanishing into the ether.”
“So you believe my parents may still be alive?” As Stasi cleaned the blood from Kirk’s face, she was relieved to discover much of it had come from just a few cuts.
“It’s realistic to hope. And your siblings, too. We know of at least Isabelle. I can’t help but hope Alexander might have made it out, too. He’s a soldier. He’s always been a fighter.”
Stasi squeezed her eyes shut and let grateful tears flow silently down her cheeks.
The brush of Kirk’s hand across her chin caught the tears before they could fall. She opened her eyes to see his face so close to hers, and gratitude welled up inside her for all he’d done. He’d whisked her away before the insurgents could find her. He’d found a safe place for her to hide and brought her good news about her family. And he’d risked so much to do so.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You deserve a medal, or possibly a statue in the park.”
Kirk laughed, but there was pain behind his laughter. “I don’t want a medal or a statue.”
“Then what do you want?” She looked at his face as she asked the question, and watched as his eyes swept down over her.
He was tired. She knew that. The sweep of his gaze couldn’t possibly mean anything more than that he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open, but she found herself blushing anyway.
His gaze fell to the bandages he’d brought. “If you could fix up those cuts, we can lie low here for a while, until we hear it’s safe to leave the island.”
“Oh, yes.” Stasi leaped back into action, pulling out bandages and antiseptic ointment, and tried to avoid meeting his eyes as she worked on restoring his handsome face. But her thoughts swirled, taunting her with fearful threats, from what might have become of her family, to wondering where she would go once she left the island, and how she would get there, and when.
But mostly she thought about the injured man on the sand and her increasingly complicated feelings toward him.
A distant, thumping sound prodded Kirk from sleep. He opened his eyes against the pain that seared through his ribs. Someone was beating a drum in the sky, or possibly against the dull ache in his head.
Thrum-thrum-thrum.
A helicopter.
Kirk snapped his eyes open and shifted his head to see the dark night sky. Where was it? Not too close, not yet, but from the sound of it, it was moving closer. Slowly. Not as though it was headed somewhere, but almost as though it was hovering. Watching.
Looking for someone.
Instinctively, Kirk began to roll to his back, to get up, but the pain that shot through him from his cracked rib put a quick stop to that. Where was he going to go, anyway? To warn the princess? And then what? If they put out to sea, they’d be spotted immediately.
Their only hope was to lie low and pray.
Lord, hide us. Cover us, please.
Kirk heard himself whispering the prayer, his voice weak in comparison to the steady thrum of the helicopter that grew louder, closer, bringing detection nearer with every beat of its rotors.
Light flashed across the cliff tops.
Give Stasi the wisdom to keep her head down.
After Stasi had bandaged him up, Kirk had fallen asleep on the sand, too weary to move. He’d awakened once before nightfall, and Stasi had insisted he eat something, but he hadn’t lasted long after that. Between his injuries and the sleepless night before, he was spent.
He imagined Stasi had gone back to the queen’s tower, and he could only pray she’d tried to hide any evidence of their presence on the island, but no amount of stray survival gear would be more obvious than his boat bobbing in the inlet. Years before, when he’d left Thad on the island, he and his boat had spent a minimum of time there. Thad had stayed at the island alone, and Kirk had only come and gone occasionally. When he had visited, he’d left his boat at one of the nearby islands or anchored it in the open sea before swimming out to visit his friend.
He hadn’t had that option the day before. He’d been too exhausted to even move. A fatal mistake?
The light strobed, came again, dipped and flashed. They were circling the island, no doubt shining their bright lights at the shoreline, looking for any evidence that anyone had ventured near. As long as they didn’t fly directly above the inlet, or over the cliff that blocked the sight of his sailboat from the open sea, there was a slight chance they might miss the signs that he and the princess were hiding out there.
The jagged turrets of the ancient fortress jutted high into the sky, as imposing a barricade now as they’d been centuries before when the castle was built. For the helicopter to fly high enough to clear them, it would be so high in the sky the party inside wouldn’t be able to see much on the ground. Kirk could only pray the team in the copter would realize that, and avoid flying directly over the castle for that reason.
They didn’t know about the inlet. They wouldn’t know what secrets the island held.
For several long rotor-thrumming minutes, the helicopter circled the island. Then the thrum-thrum-thrum began to fade ever so slightly in the direction of Sardis on the mainland.
His ears strained after the sound until he could no longer tell if its echoing reverberations still beat through the distant air, or if they’d simply become so ingrained in his mind that he could hear them even though they’d faded.
“Kirk?” A feminine cry drowned out the echo of the distant sound.
Near-silent footsteps padded across the stone path until a petite set of bare feet came to rest directly in his line of sight.
“Kirk?” Stasi crouched down beside him. “Did you hear that?”
“It would have been difficult to miss.” Kirk bit back the pain as he strained to sit up. At the very least he ought to look the princess in the eye while they talked. “Did they come by before—when I was away?”
“No.” Distress filled her voice. “Do you think they’ll come back?”
“That depends.” He eased himself gingerly into a sitting position. “It may be they’re just searching, with no firm idea of where we are. They know you left the palace with me right before the ambush. It’s possible they may have guessed why I was at the dock last evening, and suspect you’re out here, somewhere. There aren’t that many places to hide off the coast of Lydia.”
“They’ll be back, then,” Stasi pronounced. “Unless they give up looking for me.”
Kirk couldn’t imagine that happening, but he wasn’t going to voice his thoughts aloud. Stasi didn’t need to hear another grim prognosis.
“You do still have my phone?”
“Of course,” Stasi assured him. “I turned it off to save the battery.”
“Smart girl. I told my father to text me if there’s any news. Your sister survived the attack. She must be out there, somewhere. I’ll check my messages on my phone. If Isabelle has reached safety, I’ll do whatever I can to bring you to her.”
Stasi scrambled away up the rocks. In a short time she was back, phone in hand.
They both waited as the little screen powered on and found its signal. It didn’t escape Kirk’s notice how close Stasi’s forehead was to touching his as they bent over the phone, awaiting news. Kirk was more than aware, too, of the rumble of feelings he felt for the young woman beside him.
He’d always cared for her—but in an older brother protective sort of way. He’d missed her friendship when she’d stopped speaking to him six years before, but he hadn’t blamed her for resenting him. Being around her again did more than revive the friendly feelings he’d once had for her. She was no longer a little girl, but a lovely young woman, and he found himself becoming more attracted to the spunky sprite. But he had no right to do so. She was a princess, and he was an accused man.
Thankfully, the screen finally illuminated, and Kirk rushed to check his messages.
Nothing. No voice mail. No texts.
He shook his head apologetically.
“Now what?”
“We wait.”
“But the helicopter could return anytime.”
“Or it may never return. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. You’ll need your rest.” Pain and weariness had already begun to overtake the alarming effects of the helicopter’s shocking arrival. Kirk would need his rest, too, especially since there likely wouldn’t be time for him to heal from his injuries before they had to leave the island. There simply wasn’t time to spare. Each thrumming beat of the helicopter’s blades had driven that point home. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow.
FIVE
Stasi rummaged around through the hidden storage bin that had held her brother’s things, scavenging for items that might be of use to them. Her brother had left all sorts of odds and ends tucked away, many of them his own inventions.
Protecting the Princess Page 6