She pulled out a crank-style flashlight and gave the handle a spin. “Is this the one Thad built from instructions he found on the internet?” When she pressed the button, the light turned on.
Kirk laughed. “He salvaged parts from a broken eggbeater, as I recall. His inventions nearly always worked.” Kirk pulled out a stiff backpack that had a handle dangling from a string.
When Stasi reached for the handle, Kirk quickly moved the pack out of her reach. “Don’t try it. This was Thad’s emergency parachute.”
“Does it work?”
“Too well. The chute ejects with too much force.”
Stasi’s eyes widened. “Is that how the statue on the backyard fountain lost its head?”
“I knew we’d never live that down.” Kirk stashed the pack back inside the secret compartment.
A brass-hinged wooden box caught Stasi’s eye. “His chess set?” Stasi reached past him and pulled the game from the bottom of the bin. “How did Thaddeus play chess alone?”
“I came out to visit him when I could.” Kirk reached for the set and opened the box, which when fully opened became the playing board.
Stasi watched as Kirk set up the carved-wood pieces. “Are you planning to play?”
His eyes twinkled as he glanced up at her, then back to his task of lining up pawns in a row. “If you’ll play with me. Chess is a game of military strategy. It might help us plot our next move.”
“Good idea,” Stasi agreed. She’d convinced Kirk to check his phone again that morning, but there were still no messages. Rather than risk running the battery down, she’d agreed they wouldn’t check it again until after lunchtime. That left them with time to kill.
She settled her chin onto her hands and surveyed the board. It had been years since she’d played the game that had once been a favorite of her brother’s, but she quickly warmed back up to it. Before long, she had a growing pile of Kirk’s pieces.
“You just sacrificed your rook,” she chastised him, claiming the piece.
“Anything to protect the king.”
His words nagged at her, and she made her next move absentmindedly. “That’s an important part of your life philosophy, isn’t it? Protecting the king?”
“I’m a sentinel in the royal guard. It’s my calling.”
She looked up from the board and studied his face, which was bent in concentration over the board. She’d seen the injuries he’d sustained on her behalf. She’d seen him endure the long trial and threat of a death sentence for her brother’s sake. “Chess is just a game. No one expects you to sacrifice yourself for the royal family. My life isn’t worth more than yours.”
He didn’t answer, but moved his piece. “Checkmate.”
Stasi looked down at the board.
Kirk had won. He began to clear the pieces away.
Stasi watched him, her heart trembling. She was nervous enough about their precarious position—and that was before she’d begun to worry about the risks Kirk might take on her behalf. “Did you want to play again?”
“I suppose.” Kirk shifted position and winced.
His obvious suffering from his cracked rib sent a spear of guilt stabbing through Stasi. She’d realized while he was gone to Sardis that she needed to apologize for the way she’d treated him the last six years. But it was difficult to find the words. She cleared her throat.
“I appreciate everything that you’ve done—not just rescuing me, but also—” She pulled up the courage to look up from the chessboard, and found his eyes on her face. Her breath caught.
“Also?” he prompted her, his deep voice so low she might have missed it if she hadn’t seen the word fall from his lips.
He’d always had nice lips.
She chased the thought from her mind. “Also, what you did for my brother. I blamed you for taking him away, even though I knew deep down that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. I was angry—mad at him for leaving, mad at you for helping him leave. And I didn’t understand why he had to go, and why you wouldn’t give me a straight answer to any of my questions.”
“If I could have answered them, I would have.” Sincerity glimmered in his eyes.
“I believe you. At the time, I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be so bad that you wouldn’t explain everything to me. But after witnessing the attack on the motorcade, and fleeing for our lives.…” Emotion caught in her throat. She shook her head. “It’s bad, isn’t it? Why Thad left—why the insurgents attacked us?”
“It’s bad.”
“Why would my father do something like this?”
“Stasi—” Kirk shuffled toward her, wincing as he did so “—your father didn’t do this. He made some choices—I don’t know a lot of the details, but as I understand it, he got himself backed into a corner. He thought he had no way out. By the time he told your brother what was happening, there was no way out. Thad left as a matter of principle. He couldn’t undo what your father did, but he wouldn’t be a part of it, either.”
“So he left us to fend for ourselves?”
“No. He left to keep you safe. And he didn’t leave you alone.” Kirk’s eyes met hers. In spite of the injury to his ribs, he’d been leaning closer to her across the game board as they’d spoken. “He left you in my care.”
Stasi’s face felt hot. The sun had peaked in the sky and shined down on them, but she sensed the warmth that flooded her had more to do with Kirk’s words and his proximity than the glowing orb above them.
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t been stalking you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But I’ve always watched out for you, even when you were little. And with Thad gone and Alexander training half the time with the military in who-knows-where, and your sister on all her mission trips, you needed someone in your corner. Remember when your folks didn’t want you studying gemology in the States?”
“They changed their minds overnight. I never understood why.”
“I didn’t threaten them that time—just reminded them that they’d let your siblings choose their own area of study.”
“That time? Did you ever threaten them?”
The touch of a smile played with the corner of Kirk’s mouth, though the rest of his expression was grim. “After your father got your sister engaged to that awful Greek billionaire, there were murmurs around the palace, and a visit from another billionaire. He was a dozen years older than you are. I can’t imagine what they were thinking.”
Stasi’s felt her eyes widen. “I knew about some of that. It gave me the worst feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. They wanted me to come home. I purposely missed my flight back.”
“It’s a good thing you did. That gave me the chance to talk to them. I simply reminded them their children would rather disappear than follow an ill-advised plan.” The smile faded from Kirk’s mouth, replaced by a stern look. “I always respected your parents, but some of the things your father did…” He shook his head and sighed. “It’s a big responsibility, running a country. It’s not my place to judge.”
Gratitude overwhelmed Stasi, and she leaned the last couple of inches toward Kirk, wrapping one arm gently around his shoulder, squeezing him in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, a moment before realizing how close she’d come to him, and the odd stirring of affection she felt toward him.
She pulled back quickly, and Kirk, too, looked uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should check the phone again. There might be a message.”
While Kirk punched buttons on his phone, Stasi put the chess game away. As she held the rook in her hand and considered how quickly Kirk had sacrificed the game piece, she couldn’t help but see the parallels to his behaviors. He’d put himself on the line for her brother, and also for her. She f
elt guilty enough knowing how he’d suffered for each of them. She’d never forgive herself if something worse happened to him on her account.
And yet, as the blank face of the chess piece stared back at her, Stasi considered the unknowns of the path ahead of them and shivered. She couldn’t let Kirk sacrifice himself for her.
A sudden cry from Kirk had Stasi fearing his rib injury had worsened. But when she spun around to see the bright hope on his face, she nearly fell on top of him trying to read the screen on the phone he held toward her.
ISABELLE IN SARDIS MEETING W/ PARLIAMENT
If she hadn’t just experienced the awkwardness of hugging Kirk, she might have tried to embrace him again. It didn’t escape Stasi’s notice that Kirk’s father hadn’t attempted to encode his message. He wasn’t communicating classified information, then. Isabelle’s meeting with Parliament must have been common knowledge. “She’s meeting with Parliament. It must be okay, then. Can we go home?”
“It sounds like it. Let me call my father.”
Kirk dialed the phone with trembling fingers. His father answered immediately, but his tone didn’t sound nearly as excited as Kirk might have hoped.
“It’s over already,” his father moaned.
“What is? Is Isabelle okay?”
“I don’t know. We’ve not been told much, but the meeting was brief, and when they showed the clip of her on the news going to the car, she looked as though she might faint. Rumors are swirling. The matter is far from settled.”
“Do you think it’s safe for Stasi to return? She’d love to see her sister.”
Silence.
“Father?”
“Personally—” Albert Covington seemed to be weighing his words carefully “—I think Isabelle may have walked into a trap. If Stasi wants to see her sister, we may be able to make it happen, but don’t let anyone know it’s her. Come tonight. Don’t let anyone see you. Hopefully the situation will improve before nightfall, but I fear…”
“What?” Kirk felt a sense of dread creep up on him. Perhaps he should have established a code with his father, as well. Already he regretted openly discussing the princess.
“You don’t want to know my fears. Just be careful, whatever you do. Your mother and I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Kirk closed the call and wished he didn’t have to meet Stasi’s eyes. But she had to have picked up enough from his end of the conversation to know the situation hadn’t been resolved.
“Is it safe?” Stasi asked, the moment Kirk looked up at her.
“Not really,” he admitted, “but it’s not safe here, either. We need to get off this island.”
Stasi didn’t balk at his words. “How soon are we leaving?”
“Tonight. As soon as it gets dark.”
Stasi had never been much for killing time, but waiting for nightfall to enact Kirk’s plan was nearly driving her crazy with worry.
“Are you sure you’ll be strong enough? I can’t have you passing out on me,” she asked for the fifth time.
And for the fifth time, Kirk made no promises. “I won’t be recovered for another month or more, and we don’t have the luxury of waiting. Not when that helicopter could return at any time. If they find you here there will be no escape, and I am in no condition to defend you. I won’t let you fall into their hands.”
As he spoke, Kirk headed for his boat, grimacing as he raised his arms to pull himself aboard.
Stasi rushed to stop him before he hurt himself. “Here, let me help. What are you after?”
“In the cabin, under the seat cushions, starboard side, there should be a set of sheets.”
“What do you want with them?”
“I’d like to bind my ribs before we leave. We don’t know what’s ahead of us, and I don’t want the rib to become displaced—that could cause internal injuries.”
Stasi placed a gentle hand on Kirk’s arm. “Stay here. I’ll find the sheets and help you. You can’t bind your own ribs.”
She clambered about and quickly located the sheets, tearing one into thick strips at his instruction. Fortunately, the shirt he wore was the button-down variety, so she was able to help him take it off without lifting his arms above his head. She gasped when she saw the extent of his bruises in full daylight.
“What did they do to you?”
“Not as much as they might have.”
Stasi gathered up the first strip of cloth and tried to decide how best to go about the delicate matter of trying to wrap the bands of cloth around him without hurting him. She’d hoped it could be accomplished by simply walking round and wrapping him like a maypole, but he would have none of that.
“I’m going to inhale as much as possible to my lungs. Then, quickly wrap it around me as snugly as you can. When I exhale, it will be that much tighter.”
Stasi did her best, but when Kirk inhaled, he shook his head. “It’s got to hold my ribs in place. What if we have to run—or worse yet, fight? I can’t be worried about my broken rib breaking free and lacerating my lungs.”
Much as Stasi prayed their adventures that evening wouldn’t go that far, she knew his concerns were valid. So she took a deep breath and held the end of the fabric clamped to his side farthest from the injury. Then she extended her arms around his back, passing the length of cloth into her other hand, essentially embracing him. Though he was a tall, well-muscled man with very broad shoulders, his torso tapered considerably around his waist, permitting her to reach her hands all the way around him without difficulty.
Unless she thought about the difficulty of having her arms wrapped around a handsome man in such a manner. It wasn’t as much a difficulty as it was a distraction, but she turned all her attention toward making the binding as snug as possible.
“That’s not too tight? I’m not pinching you?” She paused once she had it three times around, half expecting him to protest that she’d gone too far.
Instead, he smiled, and she watched as he inhaled slowly, testing his breath. “That’s just right. Do another stretch a little higher, and then one more over them both to secure it. That should hold.”
Stasi knotted the cloth in place and repeated the process, focusing on following Kirk’s instructions, and not thinking about the tender way his eyes followed her as she worked. “Are you sure that’s not too tight?” She knotted the last band of cloth firmly in place, and looked up to see Kirk’s eyes dancing with merriment.
“Are you thinking about the time you put a Band-Aid on your finger too tight, and your finger turned blue from lack of circulation?”
Stasi felt her mouth drop open. She had been thinking about that very incident—though it hadn’t crossed her mind in years.
“I believe, at the time,” Kirk continued, “I told you if you didn’t loosen it up, your finger might fall off.”
“I couldn’t let that happen,” Stasi reminded him. “It was my ring finger.”
A moment’s awareness snapped between them, but Kirk blinked and the moment was gone. He gestured with one hand toward the bands she’d tied around him. “This is different.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She tried to match the teasing tone she’d heard in his voice. “You might turn blue and pass out, and then how will I ever be reunited with my family?”
“You’d make it just fine. I have faith in you.”
Somewhere in the middle of his statement, the lighthearted tone disappeared, and his expression became one of earnest sincerity.
Stasi felt the need to correct his overestimation of her capability. “I’m not strong and brave like you are.”
“You’re tenacious—always have been.”
“Hardly. Are you forgetting all the times you had to carry me around as a kid because I couldn’t keep up with the others?”
“You’re forgetting—” Kirk leaned a little closer “—the only reason I carried you so much was because you refused to be left behind. You’d scramble after all us bigger kids, and you wouldn’t give up. You are strong and brave.”
Stasi blinked and tried to think of a response, but her mind seemed stuck on how close Kirk stood to her, how the cuts and bruises on his face did nothing to detract from his handsomeness, and how she wanted so much to believe his words were true.
Me—strong and brave? She hadn’t even been able to get out of her own bedroom without help. A few out-of-place necklaces had been enough to frighten her. “Thank you,” she whispered, finally finding her feet and managing to step away from Kirk. “I don’t think you’re right, but I appreciate your kind words.”
Kirk felt frustrated by his injury. He hated that Stasi had to do all the grunt work of sailing his boat back toward Sardis, but she insisted he sit still and not move, and he knew he was in no condition to protest. If he was going to do a decent job of protecting her, he couldn’t risk injuring himself over something as inconsequential as the angle of the jib sail. So she clambered around the boat keeping everything pointed in more or less the right direction, and he told himself it would have to be good enough.
Good enough to get them into port at Sardis, and that was all he needed.
She leaped about in the darkness, her black slacks and button-down shirt camouflaging her against the dark night sky. Even her low-heeled boots were black, and the dark kerchief she’d tied around her blond hair gave her a sort of monochrome pirate look as she set the sails.
Princess Anastasia was an exceptional woman, and Kirk fought against the pinch near his heart—the one that didn’t come from his ribs. Watching her gave him a melancholy, bittersweet feeling. Like the jewels she’d worn the night of the ambush, Stasi was a treasure—sparkling, beautiful…and not his. Kirk reminded himself that it was an honor to spend time in her presence. That was enough.
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