Kathleen Creighton - The Rebel King

"Your sixth sense," he said quietly. Not mocking, not questioning. The relief that flooded her almost made her knees buckle. And she knew she'd never loved him more than at that moment.

She nodded and clutched at his arms. "Something's wrong, Nik. Don't ask me how I know. I just do." She twisted to throw an anguished look at the closed door to the king's private rooms. "We can't just go barging in there-he's the king. What-"

"Who says we can't?" Nikolas crossed the room in long strides and gripped the ornate brass door handle. He pushed it, then looked at Rhia, who was right behind him. "It's unlocked. Do you think that's normal?"

"I don't know," she murmured through rigid jaws. The sizzling was more of a crackling now. she could feel it running along her scalp, lifting her hair. Her chest was tight with the certainty that she needed to get through that door. "But I think we should find out."

He nodded grimly. "I'll go first-"

"Like hell you will. I'm the one with the training here."

"Look, you don't even have your gun. If anything-"

"Who says I don't?" She lifted up her skirt to show him the Walfher strapped snugly against her thigh. "Now-are we going to stand here and debate, or open this door?"

He shook his head wonderingly. "Have I mentioned you're giving me an inferiority complex? Okay…you first, but go low. I'll cover your back. And…maybe you should leave the gun where it is until we know…"

"Right. Ready…let's go."

Adrenaline surged into her veins as Nikolas pushed down on the handle and silently opened the door; she scarcely felt her feet touching the floor as she slipped through. She was a breath of wind, nothing more. A wide paneled hallway stretched ahead of her…empty. She moved swiftly along it, glancing into open doorways as she went, aware that Nikolas was right behind her, and that what she was looking for was somewhere ahead of her… somewhere close.

And so was danger. She could feel it lurking, like something watching from beyond the firelight…

The Walther lay heavy against her flexing thigh muscle as she crept closer to the end of the hallway. There was only one door left, the one door that wasn't standing open. She approached it like a cat stalking her prey…took her position to the right of the door. Nikolas moved silently to the left side, facing her.

On her nod, he lifted a hand, knocked sharply on the door panel and called out. "Your Majesty, it's Nikolas. Are you all right in there?"

They waited, frozen, listening to the pounding of their own hearts.

Rhia held up three fingers, and he nodded, then pointed to her skirt and lifted one eyebrow. She shook her head; something told her it wasn't yet time to reveal her hidden ace. She held up one finger, then two, then three.

Again Nikolas gripped the handle and pushed open the door, but this time he managed to slip through before her, effectively shielding her from whatever might be waiting for them on the other side. The irresistible force that was her adrenaline-charged body collided with the immovable object that was his, and as the resulting explosion burst from her lungs in a gasp of helpless fury, she heard a cold, quiet voice.

Vladimir's.

"Come in," he said pleasantly. "I've been wondering when you two would decide to join us."

Nikolas barely heard the words. For those first seconds he seemed to be swathed in a gauzy film that muffled sound, paralyzed muscle and cloaked vision so that he saw the impossible scene before him through a reddish fog: Henry Weston, his father, sitting in an upholstered Queen Anne chair that had been positioned to face the door. Behind him, Lord Vladimir, clean-shaven now, and dressed in black fatigues and beret, holding a handgun with the barrel pressed to the king's temple.

Nik came abruptly back to the moment when he felt Rhia try to slip past him. Catching her arm, he pulled her against his side and stretched his lips in a smile. "Silas…"

"How did you get in here?" Rhia's voice could have etched glass.

King Weston's smile was wry. "It appears not quite all of those tunnels have been found and disposed of. after all. The blackguard came right through the wall in my library, if you can believe-"

Nikolas felt Rhia jerk as Vladimir's whip-crack laugh slashed across the last word. "Believe it, pretender. You can't keep me out. I know this palace better than you do-better than anyone does. And why shouldn't I? It's mine."

Holding himself in a grip of steel. Nikolas said. "What do you want, Silas?"

"My name is Vladimir," the intruder thundered, grasping Weston's arm and jerking him to his feet. "Lord Vladimir-Duke of Perthegon! I want what is mine -what was stolen from me. Nothing more, nothing less. And I shall have it- or die. But if I die, before I do, this-this thief will die, too!"

"Lord Vladimir," Rhia said quietly, "you must know it's over. Your secret is out-you can't possibly get what you want now. But if you give yourself up, you will have a chance to tell your story, get it out there for the people to hear, so everyone will know what was done to you."

Nikolas edged closer, still holding on to Rhia and trying his best to keep himself between her and the madman with the gun. He could feel her muscles vibrating and bunching under his fingers. It would be just like her, he thought, to do something unthinkable-like go for her weapon, or put herself in front of Vladimir's gun to save him or the king.

Vladimir's glittering eyes flicked at Rhia like the tongue of a snake. "Give myself up? So they can put me in a cage? What, wench, do you think I'm stupid enough to barter my freedom for my story? No-I'll die first, and die a happy man, so long as this -" he gave Weston's arm a vicious yank "-dies first. And before he dies…he will know the worst pain a father can feel." A terrible smile stretched his lips. The barrel of the gun slowly shifted.

Nikolas went cold. He felt Rhia's muscles gather under his fingers.

But before anyone could move or speak, there came a thunderous booming from the far end of the hall. From the reception area. Someone was pounding on the outer door.

Vladimir froze, teeth bared in a grimace of madness. He looked quickly one way, then the other, like a cornered animal, and then began backing in a tight circle toward the door to the sitting room Nik and Rhia had just come through, dragging Weston with him, the gun once more pressed tightly against the king's temple.

Henry Weston's face was pasty gray, but his eyes were calm as they met Nikolas's.

Nik didn't think. He just let go of Rhia's arm and stepped forward, hands out to his sides. Heard himself say harshly, "Let him go. Take me with you."

"No!" Color flooded back into the king's face as it contorted with anguish. "I'm the one he wants. I'm old, my reign is over. You're my son, Nikolas. You mean more to me than my crown. More than my life…"

The pounding was louder, now. A preemptory voice was shouting, "Maximillian-security. Your Majesty, is everything all right in there?"

Vladimir's eyes flicked from side to side, then narrowed. "This way-all of you," he hissed. Gesturing with the gun, he herded them through the door and into the hallway. "In there- hurry!" He pointed toward the first open door on the left.

Nikolas pulled Rhia with him into what was obviously the king's private study. Like his mountain lodge, the room contained floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with obviously well-read books. Vladimir shoved Weston in after them and followed, slamming the door behind him just as a loud bang and running footsteps were heard in the reception room down at the far end of the hallway.

"Don't move-any of you." he snarled, "or I kill him now." He backed across the room, still holding the gun on Weston, then let go of him long enough to grasp the carved molding that framed one of the bookcases and give it a mighty yank. Ancient gears creaked as the section of shelves slowly began to move.