Kirk asked the bus driver to let them out at an alley a block from the hotel. Fortunately, given their proximity to the bus stop, there were plenty of identical bright red, double-decker tourist buses swarming around. Even if their pursuers had figured out they’d hopped a bus, Kirk hoped they’d at least be confused about which one they might be on.
As they stepped down onto the cobbled path, Kirk glanced around and, seeing nothing, slipped a protective arm around Stasi’s shoulders as they ducked up the alley toward the hotel.
A windowless steel door greeted them, and Stasi gave the handle a tug, smiling up at him as it opened. They stepped into a tiny foyer, where another, equally nondescript door barred their way. The side walls each held a door: one labeled Cucina, and the other Domestica.
The door in front of them was locked.
Stasi didn’t look surprised. “There’s a pass code, changed for every visitor. They give our family the same code every time we visit. If it works, that should tell us they’re up there.” She took a deep breath, but her fingers hovered over the buttons without pressing any of them.
Kirk leaned closer. “Do you remember the code?”
“Yes.” Her voice squeaked, and she looked up at him with rapidly blinking eyes.
Since his arm was already draped protectively around her shoulders, Kirk pulled her closer against him. “It’s all right.”
“I know.” She gulped. “The clock is ticking. I—I guess I’m just afraid. Why would they be here, hiding? Why would they leave me behind if they even suspected I’d survived? Surely they’ve seen on the news that Isabelle returned to Sardis. Why would they let her go alone?”
She trembled as he held her tight to his chest, and he wished he could calm the frantic beating of her heart.
“If you believe it may be dangerous, perhaps we shouldn’t go?”
Stasi gave her head a tiny shake and clung to him. Kirk had never allowed himself to dream she would do such a thing, and guilty as he felt for thinking it, he felt honored that she would trust him enough to look to him for comfort.
But then, who else did she have? If she’d been reunited with her parents already, she’d be hugging them, not him. He had to get her back to them. It was his duty to keep her safe from every threat.
Kirk cleared his throat. “Your Highness?”
If she budged at all, it was only to burrow a little closer against his shoulder.
Unwilling to let their interlude continue, Kirk tried again. “Stasi?”
She looked up, and a minuscule smile bent the corners of her eyes. “So you do know my name.”
“We need to keep moving. Either we try the door, or we need to seek safety far away from the men who are after us.”
“The door.” Stasi gulped a breath and punched a series of buttons, and they stepped through into a more lavishly appointed foyer, with a narrow set of stairs on one side and an elevator waiting with an open door on the other.
As they stepped into the elevator, Stasi pressed the button for the top floor. “None of the other elevators service the penthouse suites. Only those with the pass code can reach them.”
The system made sense to Kirk, and he felt grateful for the added security it offered. Stasi would be safe with her parents there, and he could leave her behind with a clear conscience.
The elevator climbed rapidly, opening to an even more lavish landing, with a thick gold-and-cream rug, wide sparkling skylights, a hall table topped with an enormous vase of fresh flowers and two thick candlesticks that shone as though they were made of solid gold. Gilt-edged crown molding descended from the high ceilings until it met the arched molding above three doors.
Stasi turned to the door labeled with a gold A. “This is their favorite suite. It has a lovely view of the river.” She approached and rapped the gold knocker.
Kirk hovered behind her, tense. Would the king and queen be inside? What would they think of his presence with their daughter?
He didn’t have to wonder for long. Moments later, Queen Elaine opened the door herself, and Stasi threw herself into her mother’s arms.
From somewhere in the suite, King Philip stepped out and approached his wife and daughter. The man’s face looked drawn, almost sad. Well, that fit. Kirk figured the king and queen had been through plenty, with everything that had happened, and not knowing what had become of their daughter.
Kirk met the king’s eyes. Philip took hold of the door. Stasi had followed her mother into the suite, sobbing and embracing happily. Kirk remained in the atrium, fairly certain he wasn’t welcome inside. And yet, as King Philip held his gaze, the older man seemed intent on communicating something. Not animosity, though that would have made sense given their history. Not even thanks for returning his daughter safe and sound.
Whatever it was, Kirk didn’t get a chance to figure it out before the door closed in front of him, cutting off his view of the royal family.
He hesitated in the atrium a moment longer. It was over. He’d done his job—delivered the princess into the safety of her parents’ arms.
And yet, what had Philip been trying to tell him with his mournful eyes and half-open lips?
Kirk shrugged it off. He and the king would never see eye to eye. That reality had been ingrained in his heart long ago. Stepping into the elevator, he punched the button for the ground floor and rode the car down, away from Stasi.
At the bottom, he stepped through the door with the code he didn’t have to the tiny foyer with its three doors. Once he closed the door behind him there would be no coming back.
He grasped the handle resolutely and exited. The door closed behind him, and he stepped through the vestibule to the steel door that led outside, away from Stasi. There wasn’t any reason for him to stay.
Except that he still had Stasi’s cash in his pockets.
It was a great deal of money. He couldn’t possibly keep it.
Kirk’s fingers slid between the door and the jamb, stopping it from closing completely. As he was about to pull it open again, he heard one of the side doors opening.
He froze.
Though the narrow slit of open door, Kirk saw two men enter the foyer through the side door marked Cucina.
One man punched the pass code buttons, and the men stepped through toward the elevator. The elevator door opened, and as the men stepped inside, they turned to face him.
No! They weren’t room service waiters at all, but the men who’d chased them from the helicopter. Kirk burst through the door and got his hand between the pass code door and its jamb an instant before it snapped shut. He pulled it open and slipped through just as the elevator door went completely closed.
He tried to jam his finger into the crack, to pry it open if he had to, but the illumined numbers above indicated the elevator had already begun to move.
They were headed straight for the princess.
Kirk dived for the stairs and vaulted the fire-code cement steps three at a time.
He had to reach Stasi and warn her.
He had to stop those men.
The throbbing spot near his lungs began to pinch.
There was no time for pain. If he failed to reach Stasi in time, anything might happen to her. The thought goaded him on, up flight after flight, until he’d lost count of the steps, and finally burst through at the top.
The door to the elevator was open.
So was the door to the A suite.
The men were nowhere in sight.
Stasi pulled back from her mother just enough to wipe her eyes. Her father had closed the door.
“Where’s Kirk?” She cleared her throat and found her voice. Hadn’t he followed her in?
Her father only shook his head. His eyes looked so sad, even sadder than they’d been after Thaddeu
s had disappeared.
Stasi tried to think. Her parents were alive! They were safe. It was what she’d been praying for, and yet, all she could think about was that Kirk had gone. And she hadn’t even had the chance to tell her father how wonderful he’d been at protecting her.
“My baby.” Queen Elaine smoothed Stasi’s hair back from her cheeks. “I’ve been praying for you, for your safety.”
Before the queen had quite finished speaking, Stasi heard a rap at the door.
Kirk!
Her heart leaped inside her. Of course, he’d been shut out by mistake. She crossed the room to open the door.
“Stasi.” Her father stepped forward as if to stop her.
But she already had the door open.
Two rough-looking men stepped inside. One of them held a gun.
“Sorry to interrupt.” The taller of the two spoke, while the shorter, stockier fellow kept his gun trained on both of them. Neither man looked sorry at all. The tall man sneered. “I need to claim something for my boss.”
Stasi gasped. A hand clamped around her wrist.
Her father spoke from across the room. “Lucca, you can’t—”
“They have every right, Philip.” The voice behind her cut off the king. “The transfer is long overdue.”
Stasi twisted around to see Corban Lucca, one of her father’s three head generals, dressed in his customary uniform of the Lydian Navy. He pulled her toward the waiting men.
“No.” Stasi dug her feet in. She didn’t know the men. “I’m not going anywhere. Father?” Her father was king. Surely he could tell these men to stand down.
“I’m sorry, Stasi. I made deal. I thought it was the right choice.”
As her father spoke, General Lucca dragged her across the marble floor toward the waiting men. Stasi tried to wrench her arm away, but the larger man was too strong for her, and his fingers only dug in that much more tightly as she fought him.
“You’re hurting her!” Queen Elaine waved her arms as though torn between helping her daughter, and fear of making the situation worse. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Then she needs to come nicely.” Lucca gave her arm another tug.
Suddenly the vase of flowers from the hall table flew into the room, sending water and fresh-cut blooms flying. The solid vase hit the shorter man in the head, knocking against him with a hollow thud, sending him crashing to the floor. His gun tumbled across the room, landing somewhere near the sofa.
Taking advantage of Lucca’s momentary surprise, Stasi lunged toward the doorway, escaping her captor for half a second before he grabbed her by the ankle.
She landed with a thump on the floor and kicked frantically, trying to free herself from Lucca’s awful grasp.
The shorter man who’d held the gun was out cold on the floor, but the taller fellow who’d spoken wrestled with someone above her. When he went down in a slump, Stasi thought perhaps she might be able to get away after all.
Then boots thudded across the floor from one of the back bedrooms.
Stasi scrambled to her feet just in time to see a man throw a punch at Kirk. He ducked stiffly and tackled the man head-on.
Lucca let go of her ankle just long enough to grab her wrist but she stumbled forward, intent on reaching Kirk. She couldn’t let him be hurt any worse.
Her mother was shouting from over by the couch. Her father tussled with another man who’d come from the bedroom. Kirk exchanged blows with the man near the door. Stasi struggled against Lucca’s iron grip, and all the while her mother continued shouting.
A loud shot snapped them all to attention, and plaster rained down from the ornate ceiling. Stasi turned to see her mother holding the gun, still pointed at the ceiling.
“Stasi will go with Kirk.” The queen gestured with the gun pointed toward Lucca.
She felt the man behind her hesitate, as though debating whether to call the queen’s bluff. But the frantic look in the queen’s eyes must have convinced him she wasn’t stable enough to be messed with. She’d already pulled the trigger once, and her finger trembled against it still.
Lucca’s grip relaxed, and Stasi tore away from him, securing her bag over her shoulder before wrapping her arms around Kirk and looking into his eyes, trying to determine how much pain he was in.
“Go!” Her mother gestured with the gun. “Go quickly.”
“But the two of you must come with us,” Stasi protested.
“I’m sorry.” King Philip shook his head sadly. “Not this time.”
Stasi gave her mother a pleading look, but the queen only shook her head, her expression firm. “Use the key,” she told her daughter, then winked.
Kirk pulled her back into the hallway, and Stasi hurried after him, her thoughts conflicted. Everything had happened so quickly. She couldn’t sort it out.
They stepped onto the elevator, and Kirk winced as he raised his arm to press the button for the ground floor.
Stasi pressed it for him, then let her fingers fall lightly on the spot where his rib had been cracked. “Is it worse?”
“I’m not sure. There’s no time to look into it now. We need to get to the airport.”
“The airport?” Stasi still hadn’t absorbed the fact that they were leaving her parents behind. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know, but we obviously can’t stay here. Those men could come after us again any second. What did your mother say to you?”
“‘Use the key.’” Stasi repeated the cryptic words. “Do you think she means the pass code to the door? But that would only bring us right back to them.”
“‘Use the key,’” Kirk repeated. “Wasn’t there a key inside the locket on the crown jewels?”
“Yes.”
“What does it open?”
“My mother’s journal.” Stasi nodded resolutely. “You’re right. We need to get to the airport. My mother mentioned to me just the other day that she’d left her journal at my grandparents’ house. We need to catch the next flight to Atlanta.”
NINE
Kirk eased himself into the back of the taxi next to Stasi, who immediately swept her hands across his chest, obviously looking for the spot where his rib was cracked.
“It’s all right for now. We don’t have time to mess with it.”
“The airport is at least a half an hour’s drive from the hotel.” Stasi shushed him.
Kirk caught her hand gently in his. “There’s not enough room here to rebind me if you take the wraps off.”
“Then I won’t take them off.” She slid her small hand between two of the buttons on his shirt. “Inhale as much as you can.”
Since the woman seemed utterly determined, Kirk inhaled as ordered, and Stasi’s fingers slipped under the bands. He felt a horrid pinch as she homed in on the tender spot at his rib.
“I don’t think it’s dislocated, even if it has broken in two,” she determined, sliding her hand back out into the open. “You can exhale again.”
Kirk allowed himself a few shallow breaths. “Your bindings held it in place. I’m glad for them.”
“So am I.” She sighed, and he could see all that had happened catching up to her, shining in the fear in her eyes. “What would I have done if you hadn’t come back?”
“I was foolish to leave you without making certain the location was secure.” Kirk had been kicking himself ever since he’d realized his mistake. But he’d been in such a hurry to part with her—before he did something foolish like act on his growing feelings—that he hadn’t thought through the possible dangers. “I thought you’d be safe there. I was wrong.”
“I was wrong to distrust you all those years. The more I learn, the more I’m convinced you did us all an enormous favor by helping my brother
get away six years ago. My father was going to send me away with those terrible men.”
“How do we know they’re terrible?” Kirk had been trying to sort the good guys from the bad guys, but wasn’t sure where to draw the line. “General Corban Lucca is the head of the entire Lydian Navy. He answers to your father.”
“Apparently they’ve switched the pecking order around.” Stasi’s expression was grim. “Those men said they needed to claim something—me, apparently. And Lucca said the transfer was long overdue. I suppose that means I’ve been traded for something.” Stasi bit her lip. “Do you think my parents will be safe there? I wish they would have come with us.”
Kirk rubbed his face with his hands, thoughts of Stasi and King Philip and Prince Thaddeus all swirling about. Somehow they were all connected. And he was sure, if he could just sort out how they all came together, he might get at what was going on, and maybe even identify who their enemies were.
But in the meantime, he had a princess to reassure. “They looked unharmed. Distressed, but otherwise I don’t think they’ve been injured. There were food wrappers at the kitchenette, so they’ve likely been fed.”
“But what are they doing there? Why stay if they could get away?”
“I got the impression from what your father said that they felt by staying there, they were keeping you safe.”
As he spoke, Stasi laid her hand on his shoulder, and her eyes went wide. “Listen,” she whispered.
Kirk listened. The taxi driver had the radio on, tuned to someone talking in Italian. Probably a newscast. Whatever it was, Stasi began to smile.
“I don’t speak Italian,” he reminded her.
“The coronation has been postponed indefinitely. Valli has fallen under question. Isabelle is meeting with the United Nations. Oh, Kirk.” Stasi threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face to his neck.
“Gentle,” he reminded her, easing her back, though her actions didn’t so much hurt his ribs as his heart, which thudded anxiously inside him.
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