The Missing Monarch

by Rachelle Mccalla

  Far ahead, he could see a bouncing light and the shadows of Octavian and Monica running through the corridor.

  There was no point trying to sneak ahead—not if it meant splashing through the puddles. They’d hear him coming. Besides, Thad had no desire to go any farther into the unstable passageway. All he wanted to do was grab Monica and run for the surface.

  But first he had to face the enemy who had nearly destroyed his kingdom and his family.

  “Octavian!”

  The light ahead stopped bouncing.

  “I have the scepter!” Thad held it up, shining his brother’s penlight on it so Octavian could see clearly that he wasn’t bluffing. “You have my wife. Shall we trade?”

  Water splashed as Octavian approached.

  Was it Thad’s imagination, or was the water rushing in even faster now?

  His heart slammed inside his chest. The more the sea leaked inward, the more it would push aside the stones. The deluge would only increase. He had to get out of the tunnel. It was a death trap! But he couldn’t leave without Monica. Couldn’t live with himself if he never got a chance to tell her how much he loved her. And he had to be careful with Octavian. The man had never been trustworthy, and on top of that, he was now desperate.

  “You hand me the scepter—” Octavian spoke slowly as he approached “—and I will give you back your wife.”

  “Agreed.” Thad held out the scepter. He wished Octavian would hurry. They needed to escape. But Octavian approached warily, as though fearing a trap.

  Octavian stepped forward cautiously, his gun nearly trembling as he held it under Monica’s ribs.

  “Please.” Thad spoke slowly, smoothly, unwilling for the reverberations of his voice to further upset the delicate balance of the volatile space they occupied. “Take the scepter.”

  “But if I give you back your wife—” Octavian licked a line of sweat from his upper lip “—how do I know you won’t turn around and tackle me? How do I know you don’t have more men waiting in the darkness behind you?”

  “I’m alone.” Thad tried to make his voice soothingly calm. “This tunnel can’t withstand any more traffic. We need to get out quickly before the sea rushes in.”

  “This tunnel is hundreds of years old,” Octavian said, shuffling closer through the standing water. “It’s not going anywhere.”

  Thad tried not to let his sense of impatience get the best of him. He moved forward, the scepter extended like an olive branch. If it hadn’t been for Octavian’s gun, he’d have lunged forward, grabbed Monica and made a run for it back up the tunnel.

  But he couldn’t risk letting the man get a shot off. Not only was Monica within point-blank range, but firing the weapon would undoubtedly disturb the already fragile corridor. Even if Octavian’s shot missed both of them, a single bullet could bury them all in a watery grave.

  “Here,” Thad said, coming within a couple of meters of Octavian. “Take the scepter.” He held it out toward him.

  “I believe I will!” Octavian pushed Monica back behind him and lunged forward, gun extended, to nab the scepter from Thad’s hands.

  Thad realized, a second too late, that Octavian was aiming his weapon at him.

  He kicked at the gun just as it went off. The bullet ricocheted off the side wall before slamming into the softer stone of the ceiling. The light of their flashlight beams danced crazily. Octavian’s light, by far the stronger of the two, fell to the floor with a splash and went out.

  Thad could hardly see. Octavian’s hand’s closed over the scepter, and Thad tried to pry it from his fingers.

  Monica pulled on his arm, tugging him in the direction of the palace, and safety. “Leave it! We’ve got to run!”

  As water poured down from the ceiling, Thad realized she was right. The gun had cracked a fissure in the unstable rock. Already the force of the moving water was shoving the stones apart, widening the stream as the sea sluiced in toward them. They had to leave the scepter behind if they were going to have any chance of getting out of the tunnel alive.

  Thad scooped his arm around Monica’s waist and ran with her back up the tunnel, his tiny penlight hardly able to illumine the path before they ran through its beam, tearing up the passageway as fast as their legs could carry them.

  Behind him, he could hear Octavian’s cries over the sound of the rushing water. “The scepter! The scepter!”

  “Forget the scepter!” Thad called out as he ran. “Run for your life!”

  “Just run!” Monica panted beside him.

  The water rose quickly, nearly up to his knees before they reached the section of the tunnel that sloped upward. Still, Thad knew they couldn’t risk slowing down.

  “This way!” He pulled her in the direction of the cliffside spur. “It reaches high ground more quickly.”

  They raced upward, panting. A swell of water caught them just as they reached the stairs, its soaking embrace overtaking them, lifting their feet from the floor. For an instant Thad thought they’d be sucked back into the tunnel. But the influx of gushing water pushed them upward, buoying them toward light and air and freedom. Thad kept his mouth closed tight and his arms around Monica as the rising wave carried them upward.

  Then the wave receded, beaching them on the rise of steps. Thad scrambled to take hold of the wet stones.

  “Are you okay?” Monica panted beside him.

  He gulped a breath and tugged her higher up the stairs, in case the rising waters surged upward again. “I’m okay.”

  She sagged against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, peeling back the wet mat of hair that clung to her forehead.

  “There’s light ahead.” She pointed.

  Thad nodded and trudged a few more steps forward before his wet shoes slipped on the steps and he fell forward with her in his arms.

  “Monica?” he panted as he searched for her face in the darkness.

  “Yes?” She blinked at him, and he realized she’d been right there beside him the whole time.

  “I love you.” His lips found hers, intending just to leave a light peck there before declaring his intentions to marry her all over again and never leave her side this time.

  But somehow, the little kiss became a bigger kiss, and he found himself instead trying to make up for six lost years, kissing her and apologizing and declaring his love. She kissed him back fervently and did the same.

  Voices echoed above them.

  “Did I hear rushing water?”

  “Does this cave lead to the ocean?”

  “Let’s keep looking.”

  “No, wait, I see them. There they are!”

  “Are they okay?”

  “I think so.” Kirk’s relieved laughter echoed through the cavern. “I think they’re finally okay.”

  * * *

  Monica held her son on her lap as she waited for the meal to begin. The afternoon had passed by in a crazy scramble of hugs and tears and sodden sneakers. After a quick shower she was finally dry and warm.

  Thad entered the dining room, looking handsome and clean shaven. He crossed the room toward her and wrapped one arm round each of them.

  Peter looked up at his father with admiration.

  “How are my two favorite people in the whole world?”

  “Great!” Peter declared.

  Monica could hardly speak. She met Thad’s eyes, and saw warmth and affection shining back at her. After so long, the man she’d fallen in love with was finally back.


  He bent his head toward her ear and murmured quietly, “They’ve found Octavian’s body.”

  “Inside the tunnel?”

  “Apparently the tunnel has washed out completely. His body was found floating in the open sea.”

  She found his ear, whispering so Peter wouldn’t be frightened. “Dead?”

  “Yes. He had the scepter inside his jacket.”

  Monica startled backward and met her husband’s eyes.

  He smiled at her and raised his voice with a newfound note of triumph. “We got it back. We have everything—the crown, the kingdom...”

  “Enough evidence to put all of Octavian’s associates away for the rest of their lives,” Levi added as he entered the room behind them. “But we’ll leave the rest of sorting that out to the courts. This family deserves a celebration.” He linked his arm around Isabelle’s waist.

  “And a celebration it will get,” Philip declared as his wife wheeled him into the room.

  “Father,” Stasi chided him, “don’t you need your rest?”

  “I’ve been sleeping for a week.” He laughed. “And I’ve awakened into the happiest dream.” He pointed at Peter. “I have a grandson.”

  Monica had told Peter about the king and queen. Now the boy looked at his grandfather with curiosity. “Are you my other grandpa?”

  “Yes.” Philip’s eyes twinkled happily.

  “I thought you were the king,” Peter challenged him.

  “I was,” Philip acknowledged. “But now it’s time for your daddy to be king. Would you like that?”

  Peter looked up at his father, and then down at Monica. “What about my mommy?”

  Monica was about to shush him, to insist she was fine just the way she was, but Thaddeus placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Your mommy will be my queen.”

  “Will she?” Peter asked.

  “I guess it’s up to her.” Thad met her eyes. Then, apparently uncomfortable standing above her while she sat, he dropped down on one knee and took her hands in his. “They’d like to crown me at noon tomorrow. Would you do me the honor—” His voice caught with emotion, and he squeezed her hand before continuing. “When I am king, will you be my queen?”

  Thad hardly made it through the question. Monica cupped his face in her hands and drew him close. “Yes,” she whispered just before he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her until she nearly forgot they were not alone.

  A roar behind them startled her. She broke away from the kiss to find Thad’s siblings and their fiancés cheering with approval. After wondering how his family might receive her, she blushed at their enthusiastic response to the passionate kiss she’d have preferred to keep private.

  Thad stood and faced his younger brother and sisters. “I can think of no better way to begin my reign than with a series of celebrations. And there is no greater celebration than a wedding feast. But, so we don’t step on one another’s toes, I think you should all work out when you’re getting married. Who’s going to go first?”

  The siblings looked at one another with broad smiles.

  “Isabelle was engaged first, so I suppose she should go first,” Stasi suggested.

  “And Stasi is always late, so I suppose she should go last,” Alec declared with a laugh.

  Everyone chuckled, until Isabelle spoke up in a sad voice. “But Thaddeus, we all missed your wedding.”

  A hush fell over the room.

  Then Dom Procopio stepped out from where he’d been standing in the corner of the room. “I’ve been thinking about that. You may have been married for the last six years, but no one in Lydia knew about it. It seems the right and proper thing to do would be to renew your wedding vows tomorrow prior to the coronation.”

  There was an approving murmur until Stasi asked, “What is Monica going to wear?”

  Monica looked up at the wedding portrait of Philip and Elaine, and the classic gown her mother-in-law had chosen for her royal wedding. “I would want it to be something regal and formal, like this.” She gestured to the portrait.

  “Do you like my dress?” Elaine asked.

  “I love it.”

  “It should fit you nicely.” The former queen nodded her approval. “We can try it on this evening and make any necessary alterations, but that can wait. For now, let’s eat.”

  Philip cleared his throat. “Deacon, would you bless the meal?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  As the family bowed their heads around the table, Monica held tight to Peter’s hand on one side, and Thad’s hand on the other, and gave thanks that God had seen fit to keep her family safe and bring them back together.

  EPILOGUE

  King Thaddeus of Lydia took his wife’s hand and, with a rustle of sashes and silk, pulled her past the milling throngs toward a hallway.

  “Thank you.” Queen Monica leaned against his shoulder as they walked. “I needed a breath of fresh air. The coronation reception has been overwhelming. I never imagined shaking so many hands—or hugging so many people!”

  “They’re delighted to have you as their queen.” Thad led her around a bend in the hallway. “And they should be. You look radiant. The crown jewels Stasi designed for you are exquisite.” He touched the ruby-inlaid crown that graced her head as though she’d been born to wear it. “You’re exquisite.” His fingers trailed from the crown down her cheek, tilting her chin up to exchange a kiss.

  “Mmm, Thad.” She kissed him back, then paused. “Did you hear the Sardis University chancellor offer me a teaching position?”

  “Is that why you looked so happy chatting with her? I simply thought you’d found a new friend.”

  “I think we will be friends. But what do you think of the idea of me teaching? Won’t my duties as queen preclude that?”

  “Your role will be whatever you shape it to be. Now that Octavian is dead and the Royal House of Lydia has reclaimed the crown, you’re free to do whatever you like. The most important thing is that you’re happy.” He kissed her again, amazed at the way every moment with her felt so perfect, and so right.

  Monica broke off the kiss just long enough to ask, “Do you think we should check on Peter?”

  “Your parents have him. That’s where I’m taking you now.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Actually...” Thad hesitated to tell her of his plans. What if she didn’t like the surprise? He’d almost told her a dozen times, but he didn’t want to spoil the secret. It was a joy, for once, to have a happy secret. “It was my mother’s idea. After she and my father were married, they greeted their subjects from this balcony.” He opened the door, and together they stepped out onto a wide balcony where their parents, Thad’s siblings and their fiancés, and even Monica’s sister stood waiting to greet them. Peter reached for his parents and Thad scooped him into his arms as a cheer rose up from below.

  “Oh, Thaddeus!” Monica looked down at the crowd spread below. Each person held a candle, and the glowing flames glimmered like a sea of stars in the evening darkness. “Where did you get so many candles?”

  Elaine explained, “When Thaddeus disappeared, the people held a candlelight vigil in the courtyard to pray for his safe return. I found the candles in storage while I was getting out my wedding dress.”

  Candlelight sparkled in the happy tears on Monica’s cheeks. Thad wiped them away.

  Philip placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “When we prayed you would return to us, we didn’t ima
gine that God would answer our prayers threefold!” The former king looked at Thaddeus, Monica and Peter, and beamed proudly.

  Overcome by the emotion of the moment, Thad bent to kiss his wife, and a roar of approval rose from the crowd below. Startled, he pulled away. As Monica reached up and kissed him again, Thaddeus felt the last cold fear melt away from his heart, and he thanked God for bringing them together again.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Threat of Darkness by Valerie Hansen!

  Dear Reader,

  Sometimes what looks like the end is really the beginning. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story of The Missing Monarch, in which the Royal House of Lydia finally reclaims the crown, and the last of the four siblings finds his happily ever after. It’s been a long journey, but I’ve enjoyed sharing every step of it with you.

  As it turns out, this isn’t the end. In December 2012, Love Inspired Historical will release A Royal Marriage, which tells the story of Gisela, daughter of Charlemagne, and the Lydian King John. Learn how the Scepter of Charlemagne first came to Lydia, and how the tiny Kingdom of Lydia survived through some of the darkest years in history.

  And keep your eyes out for more stories about the brave men and women you’ve met in Lydia. You can find news about upcoming releases on my website, www.rachellemccalla.com. Sometimes what looks like the end is really the beginning.

  Blessings on your journey,

  Rachelle

  Questions for Discussion

  1. Thad is afraid of getting close to Monica again because he fears Octavian will use his emotions against him. Have you ever felt the need to remain emotionally distant? When is it okay to let our emotions rule us? When is it better to keep our emotions out of things? Can you think of examples in your life when you wished you’d remained objective? Are there times when you should have given in to what you felt? How do those experiences influence your current attitudes and relationships?