The Missing Monarch

by Rachelle Mccalla

  If he let himself care for Monica, even a little, he’d fall right back into Octavian’s clutches. This was why the egomaniac had sent her with him—to weaken him and make him easier to defeat. No, Thad had a duty to the crown of Lydia and plenty of wrongs to put right. It wouldn’t do to let his emotions get in the way at this point, no matter how strong the feelings she roused inside him.

  Thad lingered in the restroom until one of the guards, apparently concerned that he might be hatching an escape plan from the toilet at thirty thousand feet, rapped on the door and urged him to return to the cabin. As he made his way back down the aisle, he saw Monica’s eyes were still closed.

  Good. She needed her rest. It was going to be a long day.

  * * *

  Monica awoke to bright light streaming in through the jet’s windows. It took her a moment to remember which flight she was on. Then the recent past caught up to her with terrifying speed, and she sat upright, gasping.

  When she caught her breath and looked around, she realized the guards were snoring in the seats nearest the kitchen.

  The sunlight streaming in the windows seemed to indicate they’d caught up with morning at some point in their flight, and were likely approaching their destination, as well. Monica found where the guards had tossed her bag, and made her way back to the restroom to brush her teeth and prepare to meet Thad’s extended family.

  Heading back to her seat, she looked out the window at the island-studded coastline of Greece. She remembered the view from six years before, when she’d arrived in Lydia breathlessly happy, delirious with the wedding plans she was sure would usher in a state of perpetual happiness.

  How quickly all that had changed.

  As the plane continued its descent toward the tiny Christian kingdom squeezed along the coastline between Albania and Greece, the others aboard the jet began to rouse, and the general stood over them again with an update.

  “I’ve been in contact with Octavian. He’s established his ground rules. My men and I will untie you once we land, but we will follow you everywhere. If at any point you attempt to escape, you will only make things more difficult for yourselves and for your son. Do you understand?”

  Monica risked glancing at Thad. His expression was stony, unreadable.

  “Octavian will arrive with Peter by noon on Saturday. That’s tomorrow,” the general clarified, in case the long flight had blurred their sense of passing time. “He’ll meet us at the palace throne room for the transfer—the scepter and your signature, for your son.”

  Monica absorbed the news. After accounting for all the time zones they’d flown through and the length of their flight, Saturday at noon was two days from the time Octavian had brokered his deal with them. They’d lost many hours in the flight over, and Octavian hadn’t credited them back in any way.

  What surprised Monica most was that they were going to be untied. Did Octavian really trust Thad not to give him the slip this time? She’d been somewhat surprised that he let them fly back to Lydia at all. But then, Thad had suggested that Octavian might be just as inclined to rule through Peter as to take the crown himself. And surely Octavian understood that if he was ever going to get his hands on the scepter, Thad would have to have use of his hands.

  It wouldn’t surprise her if Petrela took the scepter the moment Thad uncovered it, just as Thad had predicted the night before. Or did Octavian have something even more awful up his sleeve? From what Monica understood of the man, he’d quickly concocted plans B, C and D every time his plan A was defeated. Perhaps it was enough to assume their adversary had a pocketful of contingency plans.

  In any event, she wished Thad would discuss his thoughts with her. Surely he knew Octavian better than she did, and could guess with more accuracy what the evil man might be up to. Though he hadn’t spoken to her for most of the flight, she leaned close to him as the plane began its descent, and asked in a conspiratorial whisper, “Are we going to look for the scepter as soon as we land?”

  Thad leveled her a look that sent her heart dipping along with the descent of the aircraft.

  “If I go to fetch the scepter, I’ll go alone.” His words were hardly audible, though she leaned close to hear.

  “If?” She wanted to shake him, but figured there was no way she was ever going to rattle him enough to make him understand. “There is no if. This is our son we’re talking about. You’ve got to get the scepter. It’s not optional. Besides, you don’t have the choice to go alone.” She shot a pointed look toward the general, who’d already promised to follow them everywhere.

  “First I need to talk in person to my siblings. They’ve risked their lives to keep Lydia out of Octavian’s control. They deserve to be part of this discussion.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You’ve simply got to do what Octavian says.”

  Thad leaned forward and dropped his voice. “And what will happen then?”

  Monica stared at him, unsure what he was asking, exactly. “Then he’ll return Peter—”

  “Why should he?”

  “He said—”

  “Don’t ever trust anything Octavian says.” The hard look in Thad’s eyes seemed to be rooted in experience. “Once he has the scepter, we’ll have nothing left to bargain with. We’ll be a liability, contenders to the throne who could somehow take it back again. He can’t risk that.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Thad closed his eyes as though the burden of keeping them open was too much for him under the circumstances. When he opened them, they glistened with moisture. “Remember back in college, that class we took together on ancient civilizations? What have rival kings done throughout history to prevent their adversaries from returning to power?”

  Monica could barely get the words out. “They have them killed.”

  Thad nodded solemnly.

  “But he can’t have us killed. That would be so wrong. Surely the world won’t sit back and watch as such an injustice is carried out.”

  Thad looked at her with sorrow in his eyes.

  And Monica thought of all the horrid headlines that had told of troubles in distant corners of the world, of dictators and devilish acts performed all over the globe. It happened all the time and left her wishing there was some way she could have stopped it, some way she could intervene to help. Peace on earth remained an unachievable dream no matter how sincerely she and her son prayed for it in their bedtime prayers.

  But this time, the injustice was happening to her little boy. Her voice squeaked up a notch. “But Peter is so innocent.”

  “I know you don’t trust me, and you have no reason to believe my promises, but I will do my best to give you back your son.”

  “Your best?” Monica shook her head. So far, Thad’s best had been hiding at the edge of the earth, reneging on his wedding vows mere weeks after making them. And even that sacrifice hadn’t accomplished what he’d wanted after all. So far, Thad’s best efforts had failed.

  The plane gave another lurch and rocked as the landing gear kissed the tarmac. Monica began to wonder if she’d ever see her son again.

  Once they’d taxied to a stop and the general instructed his men, he nodded to Monica and Thad and they stood obediently while he slit the bonds that had held them. Then they filed off the plane, with Monica shadowing Thad toward waiting limousines.

  A man stood by the cars, and Monica recognized him as Kirk Covington, her husband’s best friend from growing up, who’d served as the bes
t man and sole witness of their wedding. There was only one other person on earth who’d known about their nuptials—the Lydian deacon who’d officiated, Dom Procopio.

  Thad walked toward Kirk, who’d been accused of murdering Thad, having been the last person seen with the missing prince. Kirk had gone on trial but had refused to say anything about what had happened to Thad. Eventually, he’d been acquitted for lack of evidence, but by that time, he was hated by most of Lydia.

  Kirk had made many sacrifices to keep Thad’s whereabouts a secret. In addition, if the news reports Monica had watched the week before were to be believed, Kirk had saved the life of Princess Anastasia, Thad’s youngest sister, and in the process, fallen in love with the princess. Kirk and Stasi were engaged.

  Appreciation welled in Thad’s eyes as he approached his friend. Thad glanced at the general, who was still a couple of steps behind him, watching him carefully. Thad seemed to waver, however briefly, over how he should respond to his friend.

  Then he stretched out his arms to embrace him.

  The overwhelming envy Monica felt caught her off guard. She told herself she didn’t want Thad to embrace her, but her heart seemed to think otherwise.

  Petrela barked a warning as Thad’s arms rose. When the crown prince embraced his friend in spite of the general’s words, Petrela nodded to his men. Four of them swarmed Thad, grabbing him by the arms and shoulders and pulling him back from Kirk.

  Suddenly men in uniforms of the Lydian royal guard stepped out from the other vehicles.

  Kirk raised one hand, and the guards paused.

  Monica watched the men carefully. They were on Lydian soil. No doubt the Lydian royal guards could easily outnumber the men Octavian had dispatched with Petrela. But if they did, what would Octavian do to her son?

  Thad hadn’t explained that part to Alexander over the phone. He’d given only a very brief explanation. None of Thad’s siblings knew about Peter.

  As the guards holding him relaxed their grip, Thad turned around just far enough to face Petrela. “I haven’t seen my friend in six years,” he informed the general briskly.

  “I have my orders.”

  Thad’s expression didn’t soften in the least. “We’ll be seeing my family shortly. I’ll have you know I have every intention of embracing them, as well.”

  “Octavian didn’t finance a family reunion. You are on a mission.”

  Petrela and Thaddeus glared at each other as though either of them might happily command his men to tear the other to shreds at any moment.

  What would happen to Peter then?

  Monica stepped in between the men and placed a gentle hand on Thad’s arm. “You’ve got to cooperate,” she reminded him.

  Anger sparked in Thad’s eyes, but he blew out a long breath and seemed to calm down, however slightly. “We have very little time before Octavian arrives for the exchange,” Thad reminded the general. “I can’t have your men jumping me every time I make a move.”

  The general didn’t appear to be about to back down, either. “I will use my judgment.” He raised his right eyebrow slightly. “I’d appreciate it if you would use yours.”

  “I intend to.” Thad stood a little taller, and the guards who held him stepped back. “Can we get going now?”

  Petrela extended his hand toward the waiting limo. “After you.”

  While Thad climbed into the car, Petrela exchanged words with his men, who dispersed to the other waiting vehicles.

  Monica and Thad squeezed into one seat together with one of Petrela’s guards, facing Kirk, the general and another guard.

  It was a full vehicle. The luxury-sized seats accommodated them, but Monica still felt the press of Thad’s body next to hers, and nearly choked on the conflicting emotions the contact generated. She hated Thad for endangering her son. So why did she find it so difficult not to reach for the hand so close to hers, or lean on his shoulder, or bury her head in his chest to cry?

  Kirk made sure they were all synchronized at the local time of eight-thirty in the morning, and helped Thad input recently changed numbers into his phone. Kirk looked as though he wanted to talk, but he kept glancing at Petrela.

  “Speak freely,” Thad told his friend. “Pretend he isn’t there.”

  Petrela bristled visibly at Thad’s words, but he made no move.

  Kirk gave a wry smile before jumping in. “Your family is waiting at the palace. I told your siblings that you’re on your way.”

  “What about my mother?”

  “She won’t leave your father’s side. He’s at the hospital. Since Alexander didn’t know much about your status, we all thought it best not to tell her anything until we knew more about the circumstances.”

  “Thank you. That was wise,” Thad agreed. “How are the others faring?”

  “They’ve got a lot of questions about your visit. As you’ve probably heard from the media reports, Parliament established a temporary ruling council after your father disappeared during the ambush. In order to meet the requirements that the ruling monarch be a descendent of Lydia, they created an oligarchy of contenders to the throne, open to all those with a claim to the crown.”

  Monica listened carefully, filling in the blanks with what she knew of the tiny Christian nation. The kingdom had been founded by the members of the house church formed by a woman named Lydia, who was actually mentioned several times in the Bible in the book of Acts. The ruling family could trace its roots all the way back through the centuries to the first Lydia, after whom the kingdom was named.

  “The crown has officially passed from your father, and by law cannot revert back to him, even if he recovers.” Kirk plowed ahead with his updates. “Isabelle and Anastasia signed the oligarchy documents.”

  “What about Alexander?” Thad named his other sibling.

  “I’m afraid Alexander didn’t arrive to sign within the time limit set by Parliament, but that shouldn’t be much of an issue at this point, since Alexander is now engaged to one of the other members of the oligarchy, Lillian Bardici.”

  “Bardici.” Thad scowled at the name. “David Bardici, the Lydian general, has been killed, has he not? I caught just a bit of that story on the news. Explain to me exactly how the Bardicis fit into the picture.”

  Kirk took a deep breath. “At Octavian’s prompting, the Bardicis claimed to be descendants of the ruling line from four generations ago, but we’ve uncovered documents that have disproved that theory. Neither of the Bardicis on the ruling council, Lillian nor her father, Michael, have any actual relation to the Lydian line.”

  “So the oligarchy council has no basis, then?”

  Kirk nodded, regret on his features. “It was created to solve a problem that no longer exists. All that remains now is for the rightful ruler to be crowned.”

  Monica watched the men discussing the future of the kingdom, and saw clearly what Kirk was hoping. He wanted Thad to be crowned king. With the recently dethroned King Philip in a coma, unable to be recrowned, and without any basis for the oligarchical council, it only made sense for Thad to take the position he’d been born to hold. But Octavian and his determined plans barred the way.

  More than likely, Marc Petrela heard the implication underlying Kirk’s words, but Monica figured it wouldn’t be any great revelation to him.

  Nor did Thad respond to his friend’s implications. There wasn’t time to talk further. They arrived at the palace and shuffled around in the courtyard until Pet
rela and his men seemed satisfied with the formation they’d created around Thad.

  Then they hurried inside the large marble foyer with its twin staircases curving down, where Thad’s sisters Isabelle and Anastasia tackled him with hugs. Petrela’s men tensed and looked at the general for direction, but his expression seemed to indicate that he didn’t consider the princesses to be a threat.

  The smaller blonde sister, who Monica understood to be Anastasia, called Stasi, turned to her next. “You’re Monica?” Obviously Kirk had told the sisters about her, as Thad had instructed Alec.

  “Yes.” As Monica awkwardly wondered whether she should curtsy or shake the princess’s hand, Stasi surprised her with a hug.

  “Thank you for bringing my brother home.” The petite princess squeezed her tight, followed by Isabelle, who embraced her and thanked her, as well.

  Too dumbfounded to respond, Monica wondered if she should explain that Thad hadn’t returned because of any winsome request on her part. Did anyone understand why Petrela stood among them? They seemed far too distracted by their brother’s return to consider the question. But they’d learn the details soon enough. Besides, Monica wasn’t entirely certain she could trust her voice, having often wondered how her sisters-in-law might receive her, but never envisioning them welcoming her so warmly.

  Of course, once they learned she’d hidden their nephew away for five years, only to have him kidnapped and used as a pawn in exchange for the crown they’d worked so hard to reclaim, they might feel quite differently.

  “Where’s Alexander?” Thad asked, looking around.

  “He isn’t doing very well on the stairs, or else he could have come down to greet you. He and his fiancée, Lily, are waiting upstairs in the conference room. We promised to join them the moment you arrived,” Isabelle explained.